The plan came together over the next three days.
Aarohi would get close to Karan. She would attend the same events. She would smile at the right moments. She would let him believe he was charming her.
Kabir would use his political connections to dig into the Khurana family's financial records. If the Council was funding their campaigns, there would be a paper trail. There was always a paper trail.
Rohan would monitor Karan's communications. His phone. His email. His social media. People like Karan could not resist leaving digital footprints.
And Vikram would continue to provide intelligence from his cell in the basement. He had no choice. The Chairman would kill him if he knew about the betrayal. His only chance at survival was to help them destroy the Council before the Council destroyed him.
On the fourth day, Aarohi received an invitation.
Mr. Karan Khurana requests the pleasure of your company at a private dinner. Black tie. Intimate gathering. Please respond promptly.
She read the invitation three times. Then she walked to Kabir's study and placed it on his desk.
"He is making his move," she said.
Kabir picked up the invitation. His face was expressionless.
"Private dinner. Intimate gathering." His voice was flat. "He wants you alone."
"He wants to test me. To see what I know. To see what I will reveal."
"You cannot go alone."
"If I bring you, he will not talk. He will be on his guard." She sat down across from him. "I have to go alone, Kabir. It is the only way."
Kabir set down the invitation. He stood up and walked to the window. His back was to her.
"I do not like this."
"I know."
"If he hurts you—"
"He will not hurt me. He needs me alive. He needs to figure out what I am before he decides whether to recruit me or eliminate me." She stood up and walked to him. "I can handle Karan Khurana."
Kabir turned. His eyes were dark.
"I know you can. That is not what worries me." He reached out and took her hand. "What worries me is that you are getting too close. You are walking into their world. You are becoming part of it. I am afraid that one day, you will not come back."
She squeezed his hand.
"I will always come back. To you."
He pulled her close. His arms wrapped around her. His face buried in her hair.
"Promise me," he whispered.
"I promise."