I remember the smell of my mother’s cooking—spices, warmth, safety. That was before Dharamdas came. Before the screams. Before my father, Inspector Vikram Shukla, arrested the monster, only for the system to spit him back out. I was eleven. My brother Vijay, younger by two years, clung to me that night like I could protect him. We couldn’t protect anyone.

Years passed. Our father ended up in prison for killing his own brother, who had defended Dharamdas in court. We were orphaned, raised by a neighbor who barely had enough for herself.

Now, I’m in jail. Wrongly convicted of murder. The system again. But today, Vijay visited me. He looked different—harder, eyes full of fire. 'I’ll find him,' he said. 'Dharamdas. I’ll go into the underworld if I have to.'

I should’ve stopped him. But I didn’t. I told him to do it. To become what I never wanted to be.

Because sometimes, the only way to catch a monster… is to become one yourself.