The red lights flashed once.
Then again.
Zoya stood frozen in the dark room, her sister’s fingers digging into her arm.
Through the speaker overhead, Kabir’s voice remained calm.
Almost gentle.
“I know you can hear me, Aalia.”
Zoya’s real name.
The name she had never known.
The name that felt wrong in her own ears.
“You took everything from me,” she said.
Kabir laughed softly.
“No, beta. Your mother took everything from you. I simply waited.”
Vihaan moved toward the door and tried the handle.
Locked.
“They’re sealing the corridors,” he said.
Naina checked her gun. “How many exits?”
“One,” the girl—Zoya, the real Zoya—said.
Everyone turned toward her.
She was standing beside the one-way mirror, her face pale in the red emergency light.
“How do you know?” Vihaan asked.
The girl did not answer.
Zoya watched her carefully.
“You know this place,” she said.
The girl’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I grew up here.”
The answer was too quick.
Too practiced.
Zoya stepped closer.
“No. You know more than that.”
The girl looked at her.
For a moment, something vulnerable passed through her eyes.
Then it disappeared.
“There’s a maintenance corridor behind the supply room,” she said. “It leads to the old laundry wing. From there, we can reach the service exit.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I cleaned those corridors for six years.”
The words settled heavily in the room.
Vihaan looked at her. “They made you work here?”
“They made me do a lot of things here.”
Naina lowered her gun slightly.
“Then lead.”
The girl moved to the back wall and pressed against a panel Zoya had not noticed. It slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a narrow passage lined with pipes and flickering emergency lights.
Cold air rushed out.
“Stay close,” the girl said. “And don’t make noise.”
They entered.
The corridor was narrow, damp, and endless. Pipes ran along the walls. Water dripped somewhere ahead. Every few seconds, the red lights above them pulsed, turning their faces the color of blood.
Zoya walked behind her sister.
She could not stop staring at her.
The same face.
The same eyes.
The same scar near the eyebrow.
But where Zoya saw fear, she also saw something else.
Familiarity.
The girl moved without hesitation.
She knew which doors were locked.
Which cameras were dead.
Which turns to avoid.
“You’ve escaped before,” Zoya said quietly.
The girl did not turn around.
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“I got caught.”
“And?”
“And Kabir made sure I never tried again.”
Zoya’s stomach tightened.
Ahead, Vihaan stopped at a junction. One passage led left, toward a metal door marked LAUNDRY. The other continued straight, into darkness.
“Which way?” he asked.
The girl pointed left.
“That way.”
Naina frowned.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Zoya looked at the dark passage ahead.
“Why not that one?”
“Because it leads to the observation rooms.”
“What observation rooms?”
The girl’s face tightened.
“Rooms where they watch people.”
Zoya felt a chill run through her.
“Watch them do what?”
The girl did not answer.
Vihaan looked at Zoya.
“We should trust her,” he said.
Zoya did not respond.
Because she was watching the girl’s hands.
They were shaking.
Not from fear.
From something else.
They moved left.
The laundry wing smelled of detergent, damp fabric, and something chemical beneath it. Huge washing machines lined one wall. Folded sheets sat in carts. A row of industrial dryers hummed quietly in the dark.
The girl stopped.
“This way.”
She pushed open a door at the far end.
Beyond it was another corridor.
Narrower.
Darker.
Zoya followed.
Then she heard it.
A sound.
Faint.
A child crying.
Zoya froze.
“Did you hear that?”
The girl kept walking.
“No.”
“I heard it.”
“It’s the pipes.”
“It’s not pipes.”
Zoya turned toward a door on the right.
It was slightly open.
A thin strip of light fell across the floor.
The crying came again.
Softer this time.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Please. Please, not again.”
Zoya’s blood turned cold.
Vihaan reached for her arm.
“Zoya, don’t.”
But she was already moving.
She pushed the door open.
The room beyond was small.
A hospital bed.
White curtains.
A girl no older than sixteen lay curled on her side, wrists strapped to the bedframe. A woman in a nurse’s uniform stood beside her, holding a syringe.
The nurse turned.
Her eyes widened.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Zoya stared at the girl on the bed.
Then at the nurse.
Then at the syringe.
The same label.
The same black circle.
The same white line.
Memory suppression.
“What are you doing to her?” Zoya demanded.
The nurse reached for an alarm.
Naina moved first.
She grabbed the nurse’s wrist and slammed her against the wall.
The syringe fell to the floor.
The girl on the bed began to cry harder.
Zoya rushed to her.
“Hey. Hey, look at me. I’m getting you out.”
The girl’s eyes were glassy.
“They said my family forgot me,” she whispered.
Zoya’s chest broke.
“No,” she said. “I haven’t. I don’t know you, but I haven’t.”
The girl’s fingers weakly closed around Zoya’s wrist.
“You promise?”
Zoya looked at her.
At the bruises on her arms.
At the fear in her eyes.
At the number written on her hospital band.
19.
“I promise.”
Behind her, Vihaan was unstrapping the girl’s wrists.
Naina kept the nurse pinned against the wall.
“Who else is in this wing?” Naina demanded.
The nurse shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“There are more,” the nurse sobbed. “There are more rooms. But they’re not all girls. Some are witnesses. Some are people who saw too much.”
Zoya felt cold.
“People like me.”
The nurse looked at her.
Then at the girl standing in the doorway.
The real Zoya.
“You,” the nurse whispered. “You’re supposed to be in Subject 07’s room.”
The girl’s face went pale.
“I escaped.”
“No.” The nurse’s eyes widened. “You were supposed to bring her to the east wing.”
The room went silent.
Zoya turned slowly.
“What did she say?”
The girl did not look at her.
“Nothing.”
“She said you were supposed to bring me to the east wing.”
“I know what she said.”
“Then why are we here?”
The girl’s jaw tightened.
“Because I changed the route.”
“Why?”
“Because I was trying to save you.”
Zoya wanted to believe her.
But the nurse was still looking at the girl with something worse than fear.
Recognition.
“You always bring them to the east wing,” the nurse said. “Every time.”
Zoya’s breath stopped.
“What?”
The girl turned on the nurse.
“Shut up.”
“You bring them,” the nurse continued, crying now. “You bring them and then you leave. You leave and they take us to the rooms.”
Zoya felt the floor tilt.
She looked at her sister.
“You’ve done this before?”
The girl’s face was pale.
“No.”
“You have.”
“I had no choice.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
The girl’s eyes flashed.
“You don’t know what he did to me.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll hate me.”
Zoya’s voice broke.
“I already don’t know whether I can trust you.”
The girl looked at her.
And for a moment, Zoya saw the little girl from the photograph.
The one who had been left behind.
The one who had grown up in white rooms and learned that survival came at a price.
“I brought you here because Kabir told me to,” she said finally.
The words hit Zoya like a blow.
Vihaan stepped forward.
“You what?”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears.
“He said if I brought Aalia to the east wing, he would let me leave.”
Naina’s gun rose.
“You believed him?”
“I wanted to believe him.”
Zoya stepped back.
“You were going to give me to him.”
“I was going to save myself.”
The honesty was worse than a lie.
Zoya’s chest tightened.
For twenty years, she had believed she was abandoned.
Now she learned her sister had survived by helping the man who destroyed their family.
“I came here thinking I was saving you,” Zoya whispered.
The girl looked down.
“I know.”
“I found you.”
“You did.”
“And you were going to hand me to the man who killed our mother.”
The girl’s face crumpled.
“I know.”
Vihaan moved between them.
“This isn’t helping,” he said. “We need to leave.”
But Zoya could not move.
Because the girl on the bed was watching her.
Her small fingers still wrapped around Zoya’s wrist.
“You promised,” the girl whispered.
Zoya looked at her.
At the fear in her eyes.
At the number on her band.
At the nurse trembling against the wall.
Then she looked at her sister.
The sister who had betrayed her.
The sister who had been betrayed first.
Zoya made a choice.
“We’re taking her with us.”
The girl’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“The girl. We’re taking her.”
“You can’t,” the real Zoya said. “She’ll slow us down.”
“She’s a child.”
“She’s a risk.”
“So am I.”
The girl stared at her.
Zoya stepped closer.
“You spent your life surviving alone,” she said. “I understand that. But I’m not leaving her.”
For a moment, something shifted in the girl’s face.
Grief.
Guilt.
Maybe hope.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
A voice came through the corridor speakers.
Kabir’s voice.
“You always were sentimental, Aalia.”
Zoya’s blood turned cold.
“That’s why your mother chose you.”
Vihaan grabbed Zoya’s arm.
“Move.”
They ran.
The girl from the bed stumbled between them, weak but alive. Naina took the rear, gun raised. The real Zoya led them through the laundry wing, faster now, as if she had finally stopped calculating and started running.
They reached a metal door at the end of the corridor.
The girl pushed it open.
Beyond it was a staircase leading downward.
Zoya hesitated.
“Where does this go?”
The girl looked at her.
“The east wing.”
Zoya froze.
“No.”
“It’s the only way out.”
“You said the east wing is where Kabir wanted me.”
“It is.”
“Then why are we going there?”
The girl’s eyes met hers.
“Because the service exit is on the other side.”
Vihaan looked at Zoya.
“We don’t have time.”
Naina glanced back down the corridor.
Footsteps echoed somewhere behind them.
Many footsteps.
Zoya looked at the staircase.
At the darkness below.
At her sister’s face.
Then she stepped forward.
“Fine,” she said. “But if this is a trap—”
“It is,” the girl said quietly.
Zoya stopped.
The girl looked at her.
“But not mine.”
They descended.
The staircase was narrow and cold. Their footsteps echoed against the concrete walls. The girl from the bed clung to Zoya’s arm, breathing hard.
Halfway down, Zoya noticed something carved into the wall.
Small letters.
Barely visible beneath years of dust.
A + M + R = 07
Zoya stopped.
“What is that?”
The girl looked at it.
Her face went white.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I don’t know,” she repeated.
But Zoya saw the recognition in her eyes.
A.
M.
R.
Alia.
Meher.
Rais.
Zoya’s stomach turned.
Three names.
Three people who had been in her life—or its shadows—since the beginning.
And one number.
07.
They reached the bottom.
A steel door stood before them.
The girl reached for the handle.
Then stopped.
“What?” Vihaan asked.
The girl pressed her ear against the door.
Her face drained of color.
“What is it?” Zoya whispered.
The girl looked back at her.
“There are people on the other side.”
“How many?”
“Too many.”
Naina raised her gun.
“Then we find another way.”
“There is no other way.”
Zoya’s heart pounded.
The girl from the bed began to cry softly.
Zoya pulled her closer.
The real Zoya looked at her.
Then at Vihaan.
Then at the door.
“I can get us past them,” she said.
“How?” Zoya asked.
The girl reached into her pocket and pulled out a keycard.
Zoya stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
The girl’s fingers tightened around it.
“Kabir gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because he told me to bring you to him.”
Zoya stepped back.
“And you still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The girl looked at her.
And this time, her eyes were wet.
“Because I was going to use it to run.”
Vihaan’s jaw tightened.
“Run where?”
The girl swallowed.
“Away from all of you.”
The words hung in the air.
Zoya understood.
Her sister had spent her whole life being used.
By Kabir.
By the Circle.
By everyone who claimed to protect her.
Even Meher had left her behind.
Zoya reached out and took the keycard from her hand.
“We’re not running away,” she said.
The girl looked at her.
“We’re ending this.”
For the first time, the girl’s expression softened.
Then the steel door opened from the other side.
Zoya froze.
A man stepped through.
Tall.
Wet raincoat.
Silver ring.
The man from her memory.
The man from the pharmacy.
Rais.
But Rais was standing behind her.
Zoya turned.
He was still there.
Pale.
Motionless.
Then she looked back at the man in the doorway.
He smiled.
“Hello, Aalia.”
Zoya’s breath caught.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered.
The man stepped aside.
Behind him stood a woman.
Grey hair.
Bruised face.
Trembling hands.
But alive.
Her mother.
Mira.
Zoya’s knees nearly gave out.
“Ma.”
Mira looked at her.
Tears ran down her face.
“Zoya,” she whispered.
Then her eyes moved to the girl beside Zoya.
To the daughter she had left behind.
Her face broke.
“Zoya,” Mira said again.
But this time, she was looking at the other girl.
The real Zoya.
The sister who had been left in the fire.
The sister who had spent her life in Kabir’s white rooms.
Mira took one step forward.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The girl’s face hardened.
“You’re twenty years late.”
Before Mira could answer, the man in the raincoat raised his gun.
Not at Zoya.
Not at Mira.
At Vihaan.
“Everyone inside,” he said.
Zoya’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
The man smiled.
“I’m the reason your mother is still alive.”
Mira’s face went white.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
The man looked at Zoya.
“And I’m the reason you were never supposed to find out who your mother really was.”
Zoya’s stomach dropped.
“What does that mean?”
Mira stepped forward, placing herself between Zoya and the man.
“Zoya, run.”
“Not without you.”
“You have to.”
“Ma—”
Mira turned to her, tears streaming down her face.
“He is not here to capture you,” she said.
Zoya frowned.
“Then why is he here?”
Mira’s voice broke.
“Because he is here to make sure you never learn the truth.”
The man raised his gun again.
This time, he pointed it at Mira.
“Say goodbye,” he said.
A shot rang out.
Zoya screamed.
But Mira was still standing.
Because Vihaan had jumped in front of her.
He collapsed against the wall, blood spreading across his shirt.
“Vihaan!” Zoya rushed toward him.
He grabbed her wrist, his fingers weak.
“Zoya,” he whispered.
“Don’t talk. We’re getting you out.”
His eyes moved to the man in the raincoat.
Then back to Zoya.
“You need to know,” he breathed.
“Know what?”
Vihaan’s lips trembled.
“Kabir didn’t send me to find you.”
Zoya froze.
“What?”
“He sent me to find the other one.”
Zoya’s eyes widened.
“The other one?”
Vihaan’s gaze shifted to the girl beside her.
To the sister who had spent her life in Kabir’s rooms.
“The real Zoya,” he whispered.
The girl went pale.
Mira’s face collapsed.
And the man in the raincoat smiled.
“Finally,” he said. “Someone said it out loud.”
Zoya looked between them.
Between the sister she had just found.
The mother she had just lost.
And the man who had known the truth all along.
“Then who am I?” she whispered.
The man in the raincoat lowered his gun.
And smiled.
“You,” he said, “are the one Kabir has been afraid of all along.”