A Web of Secrets

A Web of Secrets
Siara sat in her office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound filling the room. The coffee Ayesha had brought her had long gone cold, untouched. Her fingers drummed against the desk, her mind a storm of unanswered questions.

She had been going in circles, trying to make sense of everything, but the more she thought about it, the more tangled it all seemed.

Pehle ek waiter mujhse takrata hai aur mujhe kuch inject karta hai… (First, a waiter bumps into me and injects something into me…)

She frowned, recalling the exact moment she had felt the strange dizziness that night. At first, she thought it was exhaustion, but now she knew better. Someone had drugged her.

Phir jab maine us waiter ko dhundhne ki koshish ki, mujhe pata chala ki koi aur usse pehle hi wahaan pahunch chuka tha… aur usse maar diya. (Then, when I tried to find that waiter, I found out that someone else had already gotten to him… and killed him.)

The memory of the lifeless body flashed before her eyes, making her stomach clench. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. The pieces of the puzzle were scattered, and she had no idea how to put them together.

Why had the waiter been killed?

Had he been involved in something dangerous, or had he simply known too much? Was he trying to harm her, or was he just a pawn in a bigger game?

She gritted her teeth.

Aur sabse bada sawaal… kya Black Serpents ka is sab mein haath hai? (And the biggest question… are the Black Serpents involved in all this?)

The very thought sent a chill down her spine.

Ayesha’s words from earlier still echoed in her head—

"Ye log normal logon jaise nahi hote, Siara. Inka naam lena bhi chhoti maut bulaane jaisa hai." (These people are not like normal people, Siara. Even mentioning their name is like inviting death.)

The Black Serpents weren’t just a small-time mafia gang. They were the underworld. Ruthless. Powerful. Untouchable. If they were involved, then she wasn’t just in danger—she was in serious danger.

She exhaled slowly, trying to think rationally.

Whoever had killed the waiter… it was clear that he didn’t want her dead.

Warna us din mujhe bhi maar diya hota… (Otherwise, he would’ve killed me that day too…)

That meant two things:

The killer wasn’t after her—at least, not yet.

He had some reason to keep her alive.

But why?

Her eyes darkened.

Ek taraf mujhe kisi ne drug kiya… doosri taraf ek aadmi ne ussi insaan ko maar diya jo mujhe nasha dene ki koshish kar raha tha… (On one hand, someone drugged me… on the other, a man killed the very person who tried to drug me…)

Was the killer trying to protect her?

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Par kyun? (But why?)

She hated this.

This helplessness.

This uncertainty.

Siara Rajawat was not someone who waited for time to unravel secrets.

If no one was giving her answers, she would find them herself.

And if she couldn’t find them through conventional means… she would take the unconventional route.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, her fingers pausing over a name.

Ojas.

She smirked slightly.

Ojas Malhotra—the man who somehow always had information no one else did. He wasn’t exactly a friend, nor was he an enemy. He was just someone who knew too much and was willing to sell information—for a price, of course.

And right now, Siara was more than willing to pay.

She pressed the call button and waited.

After a few rings, his lazy drawl came through the receiver.

"Siara Rajawat, what a surprise. Aaj kiski jaan leni hai?" (Siara Rajawat, what a surprise. Whose life are you ruining today?)

Siara rolled her eyes. "Filhaal toh khud ki jaan bachane ki koshish kar rahi hoon." (For now, I’m just trying to save my own life.)

There was a brief pause before he chuckled. "Interesting. Aur mujhe kyun lagta hai ki iske piche koi bada khel hai?" (Interesting. And why do I feel like there’s a bigger game behind this?)

Siara didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t trust people easily, but Ojas wasn’t someone who did things out of goodwill. He needed incentive.

"Mujhe ek favor chahiye, Ojas." (I need a favor, Ojas.)

"Tch. Tumhe toh sirf maangna aata hai." (Tch. You only know how to ask for favors.)

"Aur tumhe sirf bechna." (And you only know how to sell things.) She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. "Bolo, deal karni hai ya nahi?" (So? Do you want to make a deal or not?)

He hummed. "Pehle batao toh sahi, mujhe karna kya hoga?" (Tell me first, what do I have to do?)

Siara’s fingers tightened around the phone. "Mujhe Black Serpents ke baare mein sab kuch chahiye. Kahan se operate karte hain, unka network kaise kaam karta hai… aur sabse zaroori baat—unke leader kaun hai?" (I need everything about the Black Serpents. Where they operate from, how their network works… and most importantly—who their leader is?)

The silence that followed was heavier than she expected.

When Ojas spoke again, his voice had lost its teasing edge.

"Siara… tumhe andaza bhi hai tum kya maang rahi ho?" (Siara… do you even realize what you’re asking for?)

"Pura andaza hai." (I’m fully aware.)

"Toh tum bhi jaanti ho ki ye log mazak nahi hai." (Then you also know that these people are not a joke.)

"Main mazak nahi kar rahi, Ojas." (I’m not joking, Ojas.)

Another pause. Then, he sighed.

"Tumhe kuch der mein call karta hoon." (I’ll call you in a while.)

The call disconnected, leaving Siara staring at the phone.

She knew Ojas wouldn’t refuse. Not when there was money involved.

Now, she just had to wait.

And if there was one thing she was terrible at—it was waiting.

An hour passed. Then two.

Her patience was wearing thin when her phone finally rang again.

"Tumhare liye ek chhoti si cheez nikal ke layi hoon." (I found a little something for you.) Ojas sounded amused, but there was a sharpness to his tone. "Black Serpents ke baare mein jo normal duniya ko pata hai, woh bas ek façade hai. Jo sach hai, woh sirf andar wale jaante hain." (What the normal world knows about the Black Serpents is just a façade. The truth is only known to the insiders.)

Siara’s heart pounded. "Mujhe sach sunna hai." (I want the truth.)

"Suno toh sahi." (Listen first.)

There was a pause before he continued, his voice lower this time.

"Yeh log sirf underworld ke dealers nahi hain, Siara. Yeh log ek system hai. Drugs, arms, intelligence—yeh log sirf mafia nahi, balki ek invisible empire hain jo pichle das saal se shuru ho chuka tha." (These people aren’t just underworld dealers, Siara. They are a system. Drugs, arms, intelligence—they’re not just a mafia, but an invisible empire that has been in motion for the last ten years.)

Siara felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Aur unka leader?" (And their leader?)

"Koi nahi jaanta." (No one knows.)

She clenched her jaw. "Koi toh jaanta hoga, Ojas." (Someone must know, Ojas.)

"Jo jaanta hai, uski kabar ban chuki hai." (Whoever knew is already dead.)

Siara’s breath hitched.

This was bigger than she thought.

She had walked into something much more dangerous than she had imagined.

And there was no turning back now.