The back gate of the university campus was a forgotten place, a rusted iron door in a high, moss-covered wall, leading to a service alley choked with weeds and the stink of rotting garbage. A single, flickering sodium vapor lamp buzzed overhead, casting a sickly orange pallor that made the shadows seem to writhe. Vikram stood in the center of that puddle of jaundiced light, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The air was cool, but sweat beaded on his temples, under the collar of his simple kurta. He felt naked, exposed, despite the darkness beyond the lamp.

He heard the scuff of shoes on gravel before he saw them. Two figures emerged from the deep shadow of the peepal tree. As they stepped into the dim light, his breath hitched, a cold knot of disbelief tightening in his gut.