The air in the safehouse was thick enough to choke on, heavy with the scent of Sidharth’s expensive tobacco and the musk of a man who had been wearing a three-piece suit for twelve hours too long. He stood by the window, his broad shoulders stretching the seams of his white shirt, his tie discarded on the floor like a piece of trash.

"You're a liability, Shehnaaz," Sidharth rasped, his voice a jagged edge of exhaustion and fury. "I’ve got the biggest case of my career on the line, and you’re acting like a brat who wants to get caught."