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Chapter 2: Berlin Was Just the Beginning
The red envelope trembled in my hand.
“We know what you did in Berlin.”
Seven words — that’s all it took to send a chill down my spine. Because Berlin wasn’t just another mission.
It was a mistake.
A bloody one.
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I looked around. The alley was still empty. The streetlights flickered. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked — or maybe it cried.
I wasn’t sure anymore.
I shoved the note back into my purse and walked briskly toward the main road. My heels clicked like gunshots on the pavement. I had to disappear — again.
Back to the Safehouse
My safehouse wasn’t luxurious, but it was secure — top-floor of an abandoned building in Bandra. Only three people knew about it. Or at least, that’s what I believed.
I pushed the steel door open, scanning every corner. Nothing was touched. No movement. No scent. Just stale air and shadows.
I placed the chip I stole from the politician’s phone into my encrypted laptop. The data was still intact — call logs, foreign transactions, hidden contacts.
But one file stood out. A folder named:
“Berlin - BLACK WIDOW”
My code name.
I hesitated for a moment before clicking.
The Berlin Files
Images loaded.
- A man’s body, shot in the neck.
- CCTV stills of me running through a snowy alley.
- Heat signatures.
- Airport security scans.
- Facial recognition reports.
Someone had gathered everything. Things I’d erased. Wiped. Buried.
How did they get this?
Only one person could have leaked it.
Rafael.
He was my handler in Berlin. The one who gave me the target. The one I... trusted.
The one I thought was dead.
Flashback: Berlin, 2023
Rafael had charm. Cuban accent, smooth voice, and a scar above his lip that made him look like a bad boy straight out of a spy novel. We were close. Too close.
He handed me the mission — eliminate Viktor Jessen, a Russian arms dealer hiding in Germany. But he didn’t tell me Viktor had ties to global intelligence… or that he was Rafael’s brother.
I completed the job. Clean shot. One bullet to the throat. But Rafael vanished before I could confront him.
Now, two years later, someone drops my entire Berlin file in a red envelope.
Coincidence? Never.
The Trap is Set
I stepped out onto the balcony, staring at the rain-soaked skyline.
Mumbai always looked beautiful when it cried.
It hid things.
Like blood.
Suddenly, my burner phone rang. A blocked number.
I picked up.
“You should’ve killed Rafael when you had the chance.”
I froze. “Who is this?”
A laugh. Slow. Mocking.
“Berlin was just your trial run. Tonight, the real game begins.”
The line went dead.
I didn’t panic. I don’t panic.
I grabbed my leather jacket, stuffed the chip, my Glock 26, a small vial of poison, and the red envelope into my backpack.
Time to visit someone who owed me answers.
A Visit to the Underground
The Mumbai underworld doesn’t work on money. It works on secrets.
I reached “The Cage,” a speakeasy beneath an old slaughterhouse. It's where spies, hackers, mercenaries, and dead men drink. And where one man waited for me — Farooq.
He was once RAW. Now he sells information to the highest bidder.
He saw me walk in and smirked. “Zara Malik. Still alive, I see.”
I sat across him. “Who’s leaking Berlin intel? Who wants me dead?”
He chuckled, sipping his rum. “Someone who knows your every move. Someone closer than you think.”
I slammed the red envelope on the table.
His eyes widened.
Then he whispered, “Rafael’s alive. And he’s in Mumbai.”
Trust No One
I walked out of The Cage with my heart racing. Rafael… alive?
Why? Why now?
I always believed I was the predator. The one seducing, manipulating, and escaping.
But now?
Someone had flipped the game.
I was being hunted. Watched. Tested.
As I got into my cab, I noticed something chilling — the driver had a black scorpion tattoo on his wrist.
My tattoo.
But I’d never seen him before.
He looked at me through the mirror and smiled.
“Long time, Black Widow.”
To Be Continued…
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