The police sirens echoed through the night as the inspector’s car raced toward the location by the river. Flashing lights from multiple news cameras illuminated the scene. The air was thick with the damp smell of water and something far more sinister—death.

Two lifeless bodies lay on the cold ground, their fragile forms covered with white sheets. The forensic team worked quietly, their gloves stained with blood as they carefully examined the remains.

A junior officer hurried over to the inspector, his face pale under the harsh lights.

"Sir, both victims appear to have undergone some sort of crude surgical procedure," he reported. His voice wavered as he continued, "Their bodies were stitched back together, suggesting that their organs were removed… and then they were just… discarded."

The inspector stiffened. His jaw clenched, but he remained silent as the forensic doctor stepped forward, removing his mask.

"There are clear signs of sexual assault and prolonged torture before their deaths," the doctor said grimly. "This isn’t just organ trafficking. These girls were brutalized before they were harvested."

A cold shiver ran down the inspector’s spine. He had dealt with criminals his entire career, but this was beyond horrifying. And if this was truly the work of traffickers, it meant the worst—because over a hundred girls were still missing.

He turned to face the awaiting media. Microphones and cameras were thrust in his direction, the hungry eyes of reporters searching for answers.

"Inspector, do you have any leads? Who is behind this?"

"How do you plan to stop them?"

He exhaled sharply before speaking, keeping his tone firm.

"We have reason to believe this is the work of an organ trafficking ring. As of now, we have not identified the victims, but we are working tirelessly to track down those responsible. I urge everyone to be cautious, especially young women—these criminals are targeting them specifically." He paused, scanning the faces in front of him. "To the families waiting for their daughters… be strong. We are with you, and we will bring them home."

He turned away, brushing past the reporters. A constable hurried up to him, handing him his phone.

"Sir… Rajavarthan is on the line," the constable whispered.

The inspector’s demeanor shifted instantly. His expression softened as he took the call with a respectful, almost reverent tone.

"Hello, sir. How are you?"

Rajavarthan chuckled on the other end. "I’m watching the news live. It’s amusing to hear you say you’ll catch me and save the girls."

The inspector smirked. "We have to put on a show, sir. Otherwise, people lose faith in us. You just continue your work, and… don’t forget my payment."

"Of course," Rajavarthan replied smoothly. "As per our agreement, for every girl you deliver to us, you’ll receive 20% after we sell her parts."

"Pleasure doing business with you, sir." The inspector ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket.

A flash of memory struck him—

The girl from earlier. The one who had been walking alone at night.

It was his hand that had struck her from behind. It was he who had left her phone on the pavement, watching as the blood trickled onto the screen before carrying her away into the darkness.

The media would never suspect.

They trusted him.

And that was their mistake.