Midnight came fast in the basement parking of the building. The rain had stopped hours earlier, leaving the concrete floor slick and reflective under the harsh fluorescent tubes that buzzed overhead. Most cars were gone—only a few shadows of sedans and bikes remained. The air smelled of motor oil, damp concrete, and the faint metallic tang of old pipes dripping somewhere in the dark.

The stairwell door creaked open. Aisha stepped out first, barefoot, wearing nothing but a long black trench coat belted loosely at the waist. Behind her came Karan—black jeans, tight black t-shirt, carrying a small leather duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His face was calm, almost bored, but his eyes burned with intent.