Page 81 of Born in Grief

“Without finding just cause?” Amay asked, sending Ishaan a quelling look.

“Just cause?” Virat looked at him incredulously. “Have you forgotten what they did all those years ago? To us?”

“And to her,” Amay added quietly. Because that was really the crux of Virat’s problem, the crux of his very existence even.

“And they got away with it.” Ishaan lost his irreverence, the pain of the past, of his best friend’s suffering seeping into his voice.

“We couldn’t do anything about it then,” Virat said, his voice raw and unfiltered. “All these years, everything I’ve done, all the power and money I’ve accumulated... It’s been for this moment, for a chance to take them down. And we’ve found nothing. Online or offline. Nothing to even tell us what they’re involved in. And they are,” he said fiercely. “Whether we found evidence of it or not, they are fucking involved in something. The way they’re scrambling like rats to confuse and confound the police is evidence enough of that.”

“Then we’ll keep looking,” Amay told him. “We won’t stop until we find out what it is.”

“And then my friend,” Ishaan added with a fierce grin. “We’ll burn their fucking worlds down and dance in the ashes.”

Virat stared at the two of them, a small smile finally breaking through, his customary calm returning. “So dramatic, the two of you.”

“Puhlease,” Ishaan scoffed. “Dramatic my ass. I haven’t even asked you to mix your blood with Amay’s and mine as yet. What’s the point of a vow of vengeance if blood is not involved in the vowing and swearing?”

“Shut up, Ish.” The other two chorused, grinning at each other.

“I’ll get the knife,” Ishaan shouted, walking off towards the kitchen.

Amay shook his head, resigned to Ishaan’s shenanigans.

“She’s all alone in that house, Ams,” Virat said now, his even tone somehow carrying the weight of his judgement.

“I know.”

“She’s packing up her stuff and selling whatever else she can before she moves out. It’s a purging of her past, I think.”

Amay stayed silent, his gaze on his hands. “She needs this,” he said, his voice hoarse with his longing for her, one that never truly left him.

“She needs you.”

“Not right now.” He met Virat’s gaze. “She needs a little time and space to bury the past before we can think of the future.”

“And have you told her that you want a future with her?”

Amay’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Virat watched him carefully.

“If you do, it’s time to say something now because, from what I can see, I think she’s planning for a future alone.”

The words struck at the center of his heart, sending fear and insecurity lancing through him.

“I don’t want to put pressure on her when she’s already vulnerable.”

“Do her a huge favour and don’t presume to tell her how she feels. Ask her what she feels and wants, and then see if you can meet it, dumbass.”

“I got the knife!” Ishaan appeared suddenly, brandishing a rather large, ominous looking knife and startling the living daylights out of Amay. With an ivory inlay handle and a serrated edge to the large blade, it looked like an elegant assassin’s favourite weapon. Was Virat branching out in his line of work?

“What the fuck do you use that thing for? I’ve never seen something like that in anybody’s kitchen before.” Amay swatted Ishaan’s hand. “Stop waving that thing around.”

“Put that away before you hurt yourself idiot.” Virat reached for the knife, but Ishaan sidestepped him.

“It’s time for the blood rites,” Ishaan intoned. “We need the head of a chicken, the blood from the maidenhead of a virgin, and some chewing gum.”

Amay rolled his eyes. “None of us chew gum. What do you need gum for anyway?”

“Interesting that that’s the bit you want more information on,” Ishaan mused.

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