The penthouse in Bandra West became a fortress of silence after the final hunt.

The broken glass was swept away. Bullet holes in the walls were patched with quick-drying putty and covered by a new abstract painting bought from a street artist in Colaba. Arjun’s shoulder healed slowly—bandaged, then scarred. Karan’s knuckles faded from purple to faint yellow. Meera’s body carried new marks: a thin knife graze across her forearm from the fight, faint rope burns renewed in celebration the night after.