Page 1 of The Pursuit
CHAPTER 1 (First Meet)
TRISHA
Three Years Back
The pulsating beat of the music reverberated through the walls ofInferno Fusion Nightclub, each thump syncing with the rhythm of the crowd’s collective heartbeat. It was the weekend, and the club was alive with an electrifying energy that drew in Delhi’s youngsters like a magnet.
The crowd was a sea of faces, each one lost in the music, surrendering to the rhythm of the night. As I weaved through the packed dance floor, bodies swaying and lights flashing, my eyes scanned every face I looked at, waiting to spot the one I was here for. The bar counter was bustling with activity, the laughter and chatter merging with the melodious tunes that echoed around me.
Dressed in black jeans and a full-sleeved button-down cream satin shirt, neatly tucked into the waistband, I felt the gentle brush of the fabric against my skin as I pushed the crowd to move ahead. The V-neck highlighted my neckline, an intentional decision to seamlessly blend into the vibrant crowd without arousing any suspicions that I had a different agenda than the carefree people around here enjoying their lives to the fullest. I never had the desire to live the kind of lives they did. My purpose in life was defined the very day I turned 21 and was selected to be a part of one of the best foreign intelligenceagencies in India to monitor the activity that affects national security. Although I was no longer a part of that agency anymore, my purpose was still the same—fighting against the lawbreakers.
With my dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, I moved with purpose, the urgency in my steps hidden beneath the facade of someone out here for a good time. Handsome men attempted to approach me, drawn by the enigmatic aura, but my steely glance kept them at bay. Ignoring their advances, I focused on my mission, determined to find the man I was here for. The earpiece, nestled discreetly in my ear, was my lifeline, a connection to the unseen but ever-watchful eyes of my team who were here and monitoring the club like me.
“Any eyes on the target?” I whispered into the microphone concealed beneath my collar, my voice drowned out by the thumping bass.
“Negative.” The reply crackled in my ear.
Gritting my teeth in frustration, I pushed my way through the crowd of dancing bodies. Every beat of the music fuelled my determination, and every flash of coloured lights heightened my senses. I was on a mission—chasing the son of Mumbai’s famous drug cartel amidst the chaos of the nightclub. We had received a tip that he was here every weekend to have fun.
“Team Alpha, I’m checking the restrooms,” I declared, striding purposefully toward the men’s facilities.
“Trisha, cool down. Give me five minutes; I’ll join you to check the restrooms,” Paul urged.
I dismissed Paul’s suggestion with a quick shake of myhead.
“Five minutes is all it takes to jeopardise this entire mission, Paul. I’m going in.” Asserting my decision, I swung my foot, kicking the restroom door open before marching inside.
“What the f*ck—” A man screamed aloud. He had just finished his business and had thankfully zipped up his expensive suit pants before glaring at me in disbelief.
The guy in front of me was the definition of eye candy—tall, handsome and well-built with a square jaw that could probably cut glass. My eyes couldn’t resist lingering for a moment, making a mental note of every detail, from his piercing eyes to his perfectly styled hair.
“What nonsense is this? You can’t be here, miss. It’s a men’s washroom,” he insisted, breaking the spell.
“I know,” I replied nonchalantly, dismissing his concern and continued scanning the rest of the area. The washroom was spacious, with several private doors lining the walls.
In an abrupt fit of annoyance, he marched over to me. “What do you mean, you know?” His anger was palpable, but I had a mission to complete.
“I’m looking for someone here,” I stated matter-of-factly, not bothered by his intrusion.
The man seemed taken aback.
“What was so urgent that you couldn’t wait for that ‘someone’ to finish his business here in the washroom and come out? Oh wait...” he chuckled. “That someone is your boyfriend or fiancé, right? And you suspect he is here with another woman, doing the other kind ofbusiness, right?”
I scrunched my nose at his bizarre guess and glared at him. “You find this funny, Mr...?”
“Krish Rajvanshi,” he replied with a wink. “And no, I don’t find this funny, but you were a second away from making it awkward had I not zipped up on time. And so what if I am a man. I still don’t like strangers taking a peek when I am doing ‘my thing,’ you know?”
I rolled my eyes in anger. “I don’t have such fantasies either. Wash your hands and get out of here,” I scolded him.
It was then that Krish realised he hadn’t washed his hands. He chuckled again. “Good observation. But whether I wash my hands or not is my problem, and walking out of here or not is my wish. I have the freedom to be where I want to be.”
“Fine!” I screamed. “Then be here, but don’t interfere in my business.” I pushed him away to check the other doors, leaving him alone. It wouldn’t affect him, but a minor error could jeopardise my entire mission tonight, a risk I couldn’t afford to take.
I was about to push one of the many doors inside the washroom to check if the man I was pursuing was hiding there, when the same door swung open abruptly, and the very man I was here for shoved me behind and ran towards the exit. I stumbled, but Krish caught me at the right time.
“Stop,” I screamed, but before I could act, the man locked the washroom door from the outside, trapping Krish and me inside. I banged on the door in vain, frustrationbuilding with every futile attempt. Krish, still in a state of shock, laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
“Washeyour boyfriend?” he teased, enjoying my mess. “Poor guy! What have you done to scare him this much?”
