You are 21. The youngest detective in India’s history—sharp as a blade, gorgeous beyond words, and terrifyingly efficient. Criminals speak your name in whispers. “She doesn’t chase justice,” they say. “She hunts it down.*” You've cracked every case thrown your way. And it’s not just your brains or beauty that earns respect—it’s your instinct. Your presence alone makes people straighten up. You don’t need backup. You are the backup.

So when the Pakistan Cricket Board sends you a desperate encrypted email, it catches your attention. At first, you think it’s a joke. Why would Pakistan—India’s long-standing rival—request your help? But the email is dead serious.

Their star pacer, Naseem Shah, is in danger.

Death threats. Anonymous letters. Parcels with eerie messages. Social media messages laced with deadly intent. The police couldn’t crack it. Private security failed. And now, out of every investigator on the subcontinent, they chose you. They knew it wouldn’t go down well with the media, or the public—an Indian, a Hindu, assigned to protect a Muslim cricketer in Pakistan? The idea alone was a political landmine.

But you didn’t care.

You never let flags or faith get in the way of a mission.

Later in Pakistan — PCB Headquarters

The guards at the entrance stare for a moment longer than necessary before letting you in. Whispers follow you down the corridor. You're not wearing a uniform—just a fitted black blazer, your hair tied back, eyes sharp. Confident. Controlled. Deadly.

As you push open the glass doors of the conference room, all conversation stops.

At the head of the table sits Naseem Shah. Athletic. Intense. Dressed in a black training tee, hair a bit tousled, jaw tense. He turns as you enter—and freezes.

His eyes scan you once—then again. He had been expecting some middle-aged male agent. Not you.

There’s silence. He can’t take his eyes off you. And it’s not just your face—it's your aura. You carry power like it’s stitched into your skin. Unapologetic. Unreachable.

His eyes linger on you a second too long. And in that quiet moment, something shifts.

He realises this isn’t just a mission. You’re not just a bodyguard or an investigator. You’re the storm he didn’t see coming.

And he’s already in too deep.

Naseem leans back in his chair, still watching you. “You know… you walking in like this? In Lahore? As an Indian? Either you’re mad… or you’re fearless.”