Summary: Rani Didi is dead—killed in a supari hit from outside. The queen of the prison, gone in seconds. With her, Maya loses everything—her shield, her hope, her way out. The jail turns savage. No law. No safety. Just survival. Jaya has a plan—risky, reckless, the kind that demands a price in blood. Maya hesitates. Jaya is already bleeding. Time’s running out. One mistake means death. Two women. One shot at freedom. No guarantees. No heroes. Because even escape comes with its own cage.
Section 1: No Justice, No Escape
The prison yard moved in its usual rhythm. Gates groaned open. Guards barked orders. Prisoners shuffled in slow lines. But inside the legal consultation room, it was still and heavy. Maya sat across from Joshi, her lawyer. Her elbows rested on the cold steel table. Her eyes stayed locked on him. Her body was tense, but her mind raced—calculating, scanning, deciding her next move.
Joshi flipped through the case file silently. Only the rustle of paper broke the stillness. Maya watched him. Her jaw was tight, her shoulders rigid. It had been days since her bail was denied. Everything now felt staged—the courtroom, the legal motions, even Joshi’s calm face.
“There’s no justice for people like me,” she said. “That courtroom’s a show. My fate was sealed the day I stood next to Arjun.”
Joshi looked up briefly. “Justice won’t come easy. But there are gaps in their case. That’s where we start.”
“And?”
“There are cracks,” he said. “But they’re closing fast—new witnesses, fake records, media noise. They’re not trying you for a crime. They’re punishing you for being with Malik.”
Maya leaned back slightly. “So we dig deeper, Joshi. Because this isn’t about justice anymore. It’s about surviving their version of the truth.”
“I’ve asked the court to allow re-questioning of the resort staff. Their earlier answers don’t match. Ravi Kapoor shared some internal notes too—some parts seem staged or selectively shown.”
“It won’t matter,” she said quietly. “They’ll bury everything under noise and headlines.”
“Maybe,” he replied. “But it’s movement.”
Movement. Bloody, relentless movement. But no progress. None. Maya wanted to scream—tear the world apart with her rage. But she couldn’t. She stayed quiet. Her chest was tight, breath trapped like a stone pressing down. Every step in the system felt heavier than the last. She wasn’t moving forward. Just deeper into a trap. Still, she kept going. Jaw tight. Focus sharp. The only way was through.
Maya clenched her fists, pushing back the doubt threatening to swallow her. Joshi could keep fighting the legal battle, but she couldn’t rely on that. There had to be another way. She had to think of something—anything. Rani’s wise counsel might offer a new perspective. Rani, who always seemed to have the right answers. Maya walked toward Rani’s cell.
Section 2: The Queen Cracks
Rani stood outside her cell in the courtyard. It was early. The light was soft. She tossed grains across the ground—broken rice, bits of wheat. Her pigeons swarmed around her, pecking and fluttering. They came expecting her. They knew the drill. One or two hesitated at the edge. Rani called them gently, coaxing like a mother, ending with a soft 'aww aww.' The birds dove in, grabbed their share, and flew off. It had always been a ritual. Peaceful. Meditative.
But not today. Her hands moved, but her eyes were elsewhere. Her face was still. Her rhythm broken.
Jaya, her confidant of many years, stood beside her. Quiet. Watchful. One of the very few Rani still trusted.
Maya stepped into the courtyard. She spotted Rani and slowed down. Something was off.
Rani usually noticed anyone coming near. If not her, Jaya would give a subtle nod, glance, or gently touch Rani’s arm to let her know someone was approaching. But today, neither of them reacted to Maya’s approach, although Jaya briefly stared at her with a blank gaze. That silence was unusual. It felt wrong.
Maya approached quietly.
Maya shifted awkwardly. It felt strange—unnatural—to speak first. She had never addressed Rani by name. You didn’t just call her 'Rani' like anyone else. She carried the weight of power. Of fear. Of respect.
Maya hesitated, heart thumping. What do you even call someone like her?
"Didi? Rani didi?" Maya called out, unsure, her voice soft but urgent.
Rani didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze stayed fixed on the pigeons, her fingers trembling slightly as she scattered the seeds. Jaya gave a blank stare that held more questions than answers.
Maya stepped closer, concern creeping into her voice. "Is everything alright?"
Rani pushed herself up from her squat, slow and heavy. Her legs trembled. She dusted her palms, and a few grains fell. The pigeons swooped in, pecking at the scraps. Rani raised both hands above her head and let them fall. “Over,” she said, eyes fixed ahead. “It’s over.”
Maya blinked. “What is? What happened didi?”
Rani turned to her, voice raw. “Encounter. Two of them. My best boys. Rathore killed them.”
Maya’s heart skipped a beat. The word hit her like a slap. Encounter.
Her body went still. Her breath locked. That word held a nightmare. She had seen it. Once. With her own eyes.
Arjun. One bullet. Head gone. Brain sprayed. Man down. Just like that. The cops didn’t blink.
Now it came rushing back. The sound. The smell. The silence after. Her stomach turned. Her legs shook. Her conscience cracked open.
She wrapped her arms around herself. Her body trembled. The horror wasn’t new. But this time, it slammed into her chest like a stone. Her legs felt weak. Her breath, jagged. Her mind couldn’t unsee it. Not again.
Rani’s best boys. Gone the same way. No court. No mercy. Just another file marked closed.
"They weren’t just my boys," Rani continued, her throat tight. "They were my babies."
Maya blinked, stunned. Rani’s voice trembled. Her posture cracked. The woman who ruled this prison like a fortress now looked lost. Maya’s throat dried up. She glanced at Jaya. Even she looked shaken, her arms folded tight, her eyes fixed on the ground. Rani stood there, words spilling like wounds, her grief laid bare. And for the first time, Maya saw not the queen—but the woman beneath. The weight of it hit her chest like stone. Fear. Grief. And a sense that the prison had shifted.
Rani didn’t look at Maya. Her gaze remained fixed on the pigeons, as if they were the only thing still tethering her to this world. "After Arjun was gone, Vikas started making his moves—one after another, trying to take control. First, he tried to get me to sell the matka business. Offered me peanuts for it. I refused. Then he tried to buy my people. Promised them money, power, anything they wanted. When they refused to betray me, he didn’t hesitate—had Rathore deal with them. An encounter. Clean. No questions. Just bullets. Quick and easy. I’ve lost most of my territory—maybe 3-4 areas are still with my people. I’m worried. Not just about losing those areas, but for the lives of my people managing them. Rathore’s itching to hit his century—a hundred scalps of people he’s killed in encounters. Fake encounters. Bloody. All staged. All for money."
Maya had seen brutality before—Arjun’s death, the cold efficiency of it. But this? The cruelty of it hit her harder. To kill like that, in such a raw, merciless way—no hesitation, no remorse. It wasn’t just death. It was a message.
Rani’s voice dropped to a whisper, raw and shaking. "They didn’t just kill them, Maya. They tortured them for hours. Not to get confessions—those were scripted in advance. They wanted details—names, codes, territories. Everything about my matka empire. And they got it. With blades, rods, boots. Fingers crushed with hammers. Ankles snapped. Skin flayed in strips. They poured hot water on their wounds, laughed while they screamed. This wasn’t just to break them. It was to send a message. 'Fall in line with Vikas—or this is your fate.' And the cops—those bastards—they enjoyed it. Pure sadism. One officer rubbed salt into the wounds himself. Another filmed it. They dragged the bodies out only after they stopped moving. Then, two bullets each. One in the chest. One in the face. For the record. For silence. Stamped it 'encounter' and called it justice. The rest of my boys saw the photos. Now they’re either hiding or waiting to die."
Maya stood frozen, the weight of Rani’s words crushing her chest. She had seen this world’s violence before, but hearing it from Rani—who was always the one in control—made it feel all too real.
Rani’s fists clenched. "Vikas thinks he can take over without me. But he’s wrong." Her voice trembled slightly. "I built this empire. I’ll fight till the end if I have to." She paused. Her eyes darted toward the gate. Her voice dropped lower, slower. "He won’t break me so easily." But her words didn’t carry the weight they once did. Maya saw it in her face—the tight jaw, the shifting eyes, the shadow of something deeper. Not anger. Not rage. Fear. Real fear. The kind Maya had never seen in Rani before.
Maya, still trying to process everything, stepped closer. "What are you going to do?"
Rani took a deep breath. Her shoulders slumped. "I don’t know, Maya. I’m stuck in here. Can’t do much from this damn cell." Her voice cracked. She looked away. "I’m trying. But every step I take, it’s like the noose gets tighter. Like they’re waiting for me to slip up."
Maya nodded, her stomach sinking. Rani’s power was fading. She could see it now—the cracks, the fear. Rani wasn’t invincible.
Maya glanced around, her mind racing. The prison felt more dangerous than ever. If Rani could be taken down like this, what about me?
She was part of this world now. Because of Arjun. But she was not Rani. Not strong like her. Not feared. And after today, not even safe.
Just then, footsteps echoed down the corridor. Maya turned. A tall, broad woman was walking toward them—confident, imposing, almost regal. For a moment, she looked like a younger version of Rani. Behind her, six women followed in loose formation, their steps casual but synchronized, like a ritual long practiced. Who was she? And why did it feel like everyone already knew?
She was Radha Bai—queen of hooch, ruler of every back-alley liquor den. A bootlegger through and through. Maya didn’t know it then. But she was about to learn just how feared that name was.
Rani and Jaya looked up as Radha Bai and her gang approached. They hadn’t seen them coming. Their steps slowed in surprise, but not fear. Rani’s hand paused mid-motion. Jaya glanced at Maya, then back at Radha Bai. Maya studied the group. The way they walked. Calm. Measured. Like they were marking new ground. Something about them made Maya uneasy. She didn’t know why. Not yet. But something told her—they weren’t just here for a visit.
Radha Bai was in her mid-thirties. Broad shoulders. Thick wrists. A strong, silent kind of presence. Not beautiful, but not forgettable either. Her face was plain, but her eyes were sharp. Focused. Used to power. Her gang matched her—tough women with heavy builds and quiet discipline. They didn’t smile. They didn’t glance around. They followed like a unit. Clean hair. Brisk steps. No wasted motion. Radha Bai looked more polished than anyone in the prison. Her clothes sat crisp. Her voice, when it came, was smooth. She didn’t belong to Rani’s world. She came from somewhere colder. More dangerous.
"Namaskar, Rani didi. How are you? Looks like fate brought me and my girls back to you. What, ten years now? Yes, ten years since I moved to Pune from Mumbai. Good to see you again, didi—after all this time," Radha Bai said with an easy smile, her voice warm with old ties and friendship.
"You know how jail life is, Radha. What can I say? It goes on. They’ve booked me and my people under strict laws. No chance of bail. I’m managing somehow. But tell me—why are you here? Pune jails not big enough for your gang? Or did your liquor kill more people again? How’s everything with you?” Rani asked casually. She didn’t want to talk. But she had to—for old times’ sake.
Radha Bai laughed loud and easy. She slapped Rani’s thigh, like old friends do when the years fall away. It was warm. Familiar. No edge.
"What to say, didi? We were doing fine in Pune jail for a few months. They had busted some of my distilleries in the forests—same old drama. Happens every year. They just need Radha Bai in jail once a year to make headlines. But these girls with me—they’re new. Got into fights with inmates, even staff. Pune jail staff couldn’t handle us. Soft types. So they packed us off here. When I heard we were coming near you, I felt good. At least now, time will pass better. Right, didi? We’ll chat like old days. What do you say?” Radha said with a friendly grin.
"Sounds good, Radha. But it’s time for my pooja. I was about to go in when you walked over," Rani said, standing up. Her tone was polite but distant. "Nice seeing you. Come another time, we’ll talk properly." She gave a faint smile, then turned toward her cell. She didn’t want new faces hovering too close. Not now. Not here. Familiarity breeds contempt—and danger. She needed space to stay in control.
"Sure, didi. Just came to greet you. You’re senior here, our leader. It’s custom to pay respect." Radha smiled. "We’ll need your help. We’re new here. Don’t know much yet. Thank you, didi. I’ll drop by again." With that, Radha turned and left. Her women followed, each nodding politely to Rani before walking off.
Maya looked at Rani. No reaction. Rani stared ahead, silent. Maya turned to Jaya. Nothing. She tried to understand who this newcomer was. What was her past with Rani? Why now? It felt odd. But Maya stayed quiet. Watching. Waiting.
Rani was silient till Radha Bai and her gang completely disappeared.
"Radha. Good old Radha. Now the famous Radha Bai. Queen of spurious liquor. Ten years ago, just a small-time bootlegger. Smart. Dangerous. Knew how to climb fast. She used charm like a weapon. Got close to the right men in the liquor trade. Then pushed them out. Took everything. Some she got killed. Others she handed to cops—gift-wrapped. Trigger-happy encounter squads didn’t ask questions. Numbers mattered more.
Even Arjun Malik noticed. He watched her rise. He understood her quickly—ungrateful, ruthless, venomous. She would burn down anyone in her way. So he acted. His men and the cops wiped out her liquor dens across Mumbai. Sent her a clear message—leave or die. She got it. Shifted to Pune.
And there, she rose again. Same tricks. New city. Now she runs Pune’s liquor racket like a queen.
She knew me from way back. When she was fresh off the streets. From sex work to bootleg courier. I had taken her under my wing once. And now, the circle has closed," Rani said, breaking the silence, answering Maya’s unspoken questions.
Maya’s chest tightened. If Arjun had banished Radha, would she still hold a grudge? Would she come after Maya once she learned Maya had been Arjun’s girlfriend? The thought spiraled fast. Maya’s pulse raced. Her breath grew shallow. Faces flashed in her mind—men, weapons, blood. She had almost died once. In this same place. She knew how quickly jail politics turned deadly. Maybe Radha didn’t care. Maybe she did. Maya didn’t know. And that not knowing scared her more than anything.
Rani slipped into silence. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Why did they move Radha and her gang here together?" she muttered. "If they were trouble in Pune, they should’ve been split. Sent to different jails. That’s how you break gangs. That’s how you clip wings."
She looked at Jaya, who didn’t speak.
Maya felt a chill, watching them both.
There was no alarm. No clear threat. But something didn’t sit right.
Something was coming.
And none of them could see it yet.
Section 3: Murder in Silence
One morning, Rani sat on a low stool outside her cell, sipping chai, warming herself in the sun. The newspaper lay across her lap. Her pigeons, usually calm and pecking near her feet, were restless today. They fluttered in circles above her, wings slapping the air hard. They came close, then pulled back. Again and again. Their wings thrashed. Their heads jerked. Their eyes darted at shadows that weren’t there. Rani tried to call them, her voice low and soothing. But they wouldn’t come down. They circled fast, like they sensed something before anyone else. Something close. Something bad.
Rani walked closer, her knees aching as she squatted low. Her thick frame moved slow with age. She reached out to call the pigeons again. But before she could speak, a voice cut through the air behind her—low, calm, and familiar.
"Rani didi, how are you?" came Radha Bai’s voice. Unmistakable.
Rani didn’t feel like talking. The pigeons were restless. That made her restless. And now, Radha had shown up—loud, nosy, and unwanted.
"I’m fine, Radha. What about you? Settled in?" Rani asked, not even looking at her.
"Pigeons look overfed, Rani didi. If there’s no chicken, maybe we can use one of these," Radha Bai said with a crooked smile.
Rani froze. Her chest burned. Rage climbed up her spine. The pigeons were like her children—Radha had crossed a line. Still squatting, she didn’t speak. Her jaw tightened. Her fingers dug into her knees. Her breath turned shallow. Her eyes locked forward, cold and sharp. Then slowly, with quiet fury, she began to rise. Her body heavy. Her knees cracking. Her head turned, inch by inch, toward Radha Bai. The look in her eyes said it all. Enough.
Before her stern look could silence Radha Bai, Rani froze. The sight before her wasn’t power—it was death. And it stood right in front of her.
Radha Bai stood there with six of her women. Their faces were hard. Focused. In their hands, towels twisted into ropes, stretched tight between fingers. The message was clear.
Rani’s mind raced. Where was Jaya? She had sent her to get more tea. She was alone.
Her heart pounded. She tried to stand. Tried to move. But Radha was faster.
A kick slammed into her side. Rani stumbled forward and crashed to the ground.
A towel snapped around her neck from behind. Tight. A second woman pinned her legs. Another jammed a cloth over her mouth. She tried to fight. Tried to scream. Her body thrashed. But they were too many.
Radha leaned down. Her voice calm. Cold. "Rani didi… sorry. It’s business. Vikas gave the contract. Rathore got us moved here. I want Mumbai back. Killing you was the price. The liquor trade there—ten times Pune. Too big to ignore. You understand, no? Sorry, didi. Time to go, didi. Join your old boss—Arjun Malik."
"Finish the job. Make sure she’s dead. She’s one strong bitch," Radha ordered her gang.
The pigeons panicked. Wings slapped the air like thunder. They dived at Radha’s gang, screeching, clawing, circling mad. One pecked a woman’s head. Another slammed into a shoulder. But it didn’t stop the kill. The pigeons shrieked louder, wild and useless. The queen was gone. Feathers flew. Wings smashed into bars. The pigeons scattered, screeching. They couldn’t save her. They couldn’t stop it. They just flew—mad and useless.
Rani’s eyes flew open, bulging in panic. Her lungs fought for air, gasping hard. Veins in her neck pulsed and swelled. Her legs thrashed wildly. Her nails clawed the dirt. Blood vessels burst in her eyes. Her body jerked once—then again—then went still. One final tremor ran through her limbs. And then, silence.
The fight was over.
Rani was gone.
The death was quick—brutal, efficient. Rani’s body had just gone still when the guards rushed in. Not panicked. Not shouting. Calm. Too calm. Like they had been waiting just outside. Like they knew.
They moved fast—too fast. Straight to Radha Bai and her gang. No surprise. No hesitation. The women surrendered without a word. The guards grabbed them, put on a show of control, barked fake orders, dragged them out with forced urgency.
But it was all theater. A clean handover. Planned. Timed. Bought.
And Rani’s corpse lay cold on the floor—proof that everyone had done their part.
The chaos that followed was deafening. Sirens wailed. Inmates scattered, running in every direction. The tension in the air was thick, like a storm ready to break. Guards attempted to herd the inmates back into their cells, but the damage was done. Rani, the iron-willed leader, was gone. And no one was safe anymore. The power in the prison had just shifted.
Jaya rushed back, hearing the screams. She saw Rani’s lifeless body on the ground—and froze. Her face twisted in shock. Her knees buckled. She dropped beside Rani, eyes wide, hands shaking. A raw scream tore from her chest. She clutched Rani’s body, wailing like a child. "Didi! No! Didi!"
Her cries ripped through the courtyard.
Two guards rushed in. One yanked her by the hair. The other kicked her side. Jaya screamed again but didn’t fight. They dragged her like a stray dog, hurling abuse, as she cried out for Rani between gasps of pain.
Maya was meditating in her cell when the screams began. Loud. Sudden. Sharp. Her eyes snapped open. Fear punched her chest. She looked around, heart racing. Chaos had broken loose. She didn’t think. She just ran. Rani’s cell was the only place that ever felt safe. She had to reach it.
But as she reached the corridor, she stopped cold.
Two guards were dragging Jaya by the hair like a street dog, hurling abuse. Maya stared in horror. Jaya—Rani’s right hand—was being tossed like garbage. It made no sense.
Something massive had happened. And Maya didn’t know what.
"Jaya! What happened?" Maya shouted.
Jaya cried out, voice cracked with pain. "They killed her! Radha Bai and her gang killed Rani didi! They killed her!"
Killed? Rani?
Maya’s mind blanked.
Radha. Her gang. A murder. Inside this prison.
She had never imagined this. Not even in her worst nightmares.
An inquiry committee was announced within hours. A few jail officials were suspended, names flashed on news tickers. Press notes promised justice. A ‘high-level investigation’ would follow. Files were opened. Files were closed. Cameras moved on. The script was old. Everyone played their part. And everyone got paid. The system had done what it always did—made a murder look like paperwork.
The inquiry was a joke. A show for headlines. Everyone knew it. The real killers—Vikas and Rathore—were nowhere in sight. Radha Bai and her gang took the blame, but it was all planned. A small price to pay for Radha to win back Mumbai’s liquor empire. She could now sit in any jail and run her trade, safe under Vikas and Rathore’s protection. She’d be the queen inside, with guards at her command. Rani was gone. But the game didn’t stop. Another queen was already rising. The system doesn’t punish power. It recycles it.
Maya’s head spun as the truth came out. Whispers turned into facts. Vikas wanted Rani’s matka business. She had refused. He tried to buy her men. They stayed loyal. So he got Rathore to kill two of them in fake encounters. Still, Rani held on. She was strong. Too strong.
She had to go.
Rathore came up with the plan. He took the contract for money—and a share in the matka profits. He pulled strings. Bribed jail staff. Cleared the way. Radha Bai and her gang were moved in from Pune for one reason: to kill Rani.
And they did.
Rani was out. Vikas now owned it all.
Maya was struck. Vikas had attacked Maya once before—just to torment her. Had her stabbed in the yard. No reason. Just a message. The attacks only stopped after Rani took Maya under her wing.
Now Rani was gone.
And Maya was alone.
Fear crept in. Real, cold fear. With Rani gone, nothing protected her. Vikas ran the police. He ran the jail. He had Rathore. He had killers like Radha. Maya felt the noose tighten. She wasn’t safe. Not anymore.
The whispers didn’t stop. Rani was gone. Someone new would take over—someone from Vikas’s side. That much was certain. The only question was who. Was she already inside? Or was another name coming through the system?
Radha Bai and her killer team were gone. Shifted quietly to another jail. That was the only relief—for now.
Probably something worse was on its way.
Maya’s skin crawled at the thought. If someone new was coming—someone from Vikas’s group—then she was no longer just a player in the game. She was a pawn, ready to be sacrificed.
Maya’s fear turned to urgency. Rani was gone. Radha had vanished. Vikas’s grip on the jail was tighter than ever. There would be no safety, no help, no warning. The last shield she had was gone.
She had to move. Fast.
Another queen was coming. Or already here. Maya didn’t care anymore.
She wasn’t going to wait and find out.
She couldn’t wait. Not anymore. If she stayed, her name would be next—on Vikas’s list, Rathore’s list, or someone she hadn’t even met. Time was running out. She had to disappear. Now. Before they came for her.
Section 4: Desperate Equation
Jaya sat on the floor, back against the wall, her legs stretched out. Maya sat beside her, knees pulled in, hands clutched tight. Neither spoke. The courtyard was quiet, but the tension between them was thick.
“They’ll get me next,” Jaya said finally. Her voice was flat. Not scared—just sure.
Maya looked at her.
“I was Rani didi’s enforcer,” Jaya continued. “I broke bones for her. Dragged girls by the hair. Slammed heads into walls. I did what she asked. Now she’s gone, and I’m a sitting target.”
Maya didn’t argue. She knew Jaya was right.
“They hate me here,” Jaya said. “The ones I slapped, the ones I silenced. Now they’re just waiting. One night. One loose rock. One sharpened spoon.”
Maya nodded. Her throat felt tight. “They’ll come for me too,” she said quietly. “No one’s left to stop it.”
Jaya leaned closer. “Then we stop waiting.”
Maya turned. “What do you mean?”
“We escape.”
Maya gave a bitter laugh. “Through what? The walls? The sky?”
Jaya didn’t smile. “The water tanker.”
Maya blinked. “What?”
“It comes every other day. Fills the tanks. Leaves empty. Nobody checks it when it rolls out.”
Maya stared at her. “That’s insane.”
“It’s all we’ve got,” Jaya said. “I’ve watched the guards. They’re lazy. Tanker comes, rolls in, rolls out. Same time. Same route. Always empty when it leaves.”
Maya was still quiet. Her mind spun.
“I know the guys who run it,” Jaya said. “They work for Anna Shetty.”
“Who?”
“Old liquor don. Controlled tanker business before. Supplied Rani. Rani trusted him. I know a few of his boys. I used to run messages for her. I’ll talk to them.”
Maya gave her a hard look. “And what will we offer them? You think they’ll risk their necks for free?”
“I have some money I can access once I’m out. Should be enough for the job. But I don’t know if they’ll agree. I’ll have to check,” Jaya said, her mind already mapping the escape.
Maya had no other ideas. She agreed and said Jaya could her idea a tray.
Section 5: The Deal Sealed
The water tanker rolled in late morning. The sun was high. Heat shimmered off the ground. The big blue vehicle rumbled in through the side gate. Brakes hissed. Metal clanked. Nothing unusual.
The driver parked near the cement lid of the underground tank. He and his assistant jumped off. They unlocked the rear valve and started the flow. Water gushed loudly into the tank below.
With nothing else to do, the two men walked to the back of the tanker. The driver lit a beedi, smoke curling lazily from his mouth. The assistant tore open a small sachet of chewing tobacco, tapped it onto his palm, and ground it into paste with his thumb. He packed it under his lower lip and looked around, bored.
Jaya was ready. She had come a few minutes early and kept herself near the tap, pretending to rinse a stained bedsheet. She recognized them the moment they stepped out—Sheikh, the bulky driver with the greasy shirt, and Abdul, his wiry helper. Both worked for Anna Shetty. She hadn’t seen them in years, but she knew they’d remember her.
“Sheikh bhai,” she called quietly.
He turned. His face lit up with surprise. "Jaya? Still alive in this place?"
“Barely,” she said. “I need talk to you.”
He walked over. Abdul followed, curious.
“I need help,” she said.
“What kind?” Sheikh asked.
“I want to escape from here. Me and one more girl. Can you help us get out?”
He blinked. “Out of jail?”
“Yes,” Jaya said.
Abdul laughed. “You’ve lost your mind.”
Sheikh, older and sharper, went quiet. He sensed something beneath the surface. Years in the underworld had taught him to smell an opportunity. Maybe there was money in this. Fast money.
“I’ve been watching,” Jaya said. “The tanker comes in, fills up, and leaves empty. No one checks. No one asks.”
They stared at her.
“We hide inside the empty tanker. You drive out. Simple.”
Sheikh shook his head. “And what do we get?”
“I’ll pay you two lakhs after the job. I have money stashed, but I need to get out first to reach it.”
Sheikh frowned. Abdul gave her a twisted grin, like he couldn’t believe what she was saying. His eyes said it all—Did she think they were fools? That easy to trick?
“Later?” Abdul said. “That’s not how it works. You’ve gone mad sitting in this place too long. Rani kept things steady. Now she’s gone and you’re talking crazy. This plan of yours is nonsense. Not going to happen.”
Sheikh raised a hand to stop Abdul. He looked at Jaya. "No free rides, Jaya. We need something now. An advance. Half now, half later. You know how this works. In our world, if you break a promise, you pay for it. Give us something upfront."
Jaya gave them an exasperated look. "What’s not clear? I said I’ll pay you two lakhs once I’m out. I have nothing here. Not one rupee. How many times do I have to say it? Two lakhs. One for each—or however you want to split it. Do you think you’ll ever see that kind of money otherwise? Maybe in ten years, if you’re lucky. I know how Anna Shetty pays you. Pennies. You know me. I’ve worked with you before. And you’re still treating me like a stranger. What’s this, Sheikh? This is not right."
Jaya knew how to play this game. Fear had sharpened her. She had to get out—before the inmates came for her. Her instincts were on fire. And she could read Sheikh and Abdul like a book.
They looked at her again. Slower this time. Their eyes moved up and down her body, pausing on her chest. Too long. Too clear. Then came the smile. That disgusting, filthy smile Jaya knew too well. The kind that meant, 'I want to fuck you,' but didn’t dare say it. She had seen it since she was a child. From teachers. Neighbours. Cops. Everywhere.
It had faded in jail—no men around. But here it was again. Back on their faces.
Men. Always the same. Always ready. Always filthy. Jaya didn’t flinch.
She stepped forward. Voice flat. Face blank. She said what they were too scared to ask.
“You wanna fuck me now? Fine. Let’s do it. One after another. Behind that bush. You finish, then he takes his turn. How many times you want? How many days of free fucks? One day? Three? A whole week? Is that enough to count as advance? Want more? Want the backdoor too? Done. But this is the deal. You get us out. If you screw me over, I’ll chop your dicks off. Both of you. Now move. Guards never check behind bushes anyway.”
As she spoke, she lifted her saree, exposing half her thick thighs. Her pallu slipped, her breasts bare in full view. It didn’t look like an accident. She wanted this moment of shock.
Sheikh and Abdul were stunned. Frozen. They’d seen hookers get wild, but this was something else. Raw. Direct. Scary even. It felt like Jaya had snapped. Or maybe something had taken over her.
“Stop it, Jaya. Fucking stop it,” Sheikh muttered.
Abdul just stared. Mouth open. Eyes stuck on her body. On those thighs. Those heavy breasts. Wondering how they'd feel. Behind that bush.
Sheikh snapped out of it. He knew this had to be handled carefully. He could fuck her anytime. That wasn’t the issue. What hit him was her seriousness. If she pulled off two lakhs, he could dump this stinking tanker life and start fresh. It was risky, but worth it. Anna Shetty might get pissed, but maybe he'd understand. Loyalty counted.
“Okay. Done. Deal,” Sheikh said. “We’ll save the bush adventure for later. You’ll hear from us.”
Jaya didn’t smile. She wanted details.
“We’ll come back in two days. Same time slot. How you and your friend get inside the tanker is your headache. We won’t help. We’ll just drive out. Once you're past the prison gate, we’ll drop you. That’s it. Within fifteen days, we want the money. Got it?”
“Done. Two days from today. You’re bringing the same tanker, right? It has a ladder. Don’t show up with one without a ladder,” she said, sealing it.
Sheikh nodded.
The water emptying was already done. A prison guard yelled at him to move—his tanker was blocking the path.
Sheikh and Abdul gave each other that look. Then they left.
Jaya stood still, watching them go. No closure. She had bartered her body before. But this time, it was different. The deal was hanging. She didn’t know when they’d take their share. She would have preferred a time, a place, a number. When she’d have to spread her legs. How many times. For how long.
But for now, she had the plan. That was all that mattered.
She took one last glance toward the gate, then turned sharply.
Relieved. Tense. Hopeful. And terrified.
The deal was done. The countdown had started.
Two days.
She walked off.
And the next time they saw her, it would be time to run.
Section 6: The Cost Revealed
Jaya returned late afternoon. Her walk was slow. Her face unreadable. Maya stood by the corner of the courtyard, waiting.
Jaya didn’t speak at first. She sat down on the stone bench, rubbed her ankles, then looked up.
“It’s done,” she said.
Maya’s heart skipped. “Done?”
“They agreed,” Jaya nodded. “Tanker. Same route. Two days. We go in, hide. They drive out. Simple.”
Maya leaned forward, eyes sharp, voice tight. “What’s the price, Jaya? What exactly did they ask for? What do we have to give them to make this real?”
Jaya met her gaze. “Sex. As advance. They want to fuck.”
Maya froze.
“What?”
“They want it before. Not later. Not promises. Before they help.”
Maya’s chest tightened. Her breath turned shallow.
“You mean I have to—”
This was the last thing Maya had ever imagined. Her stomach twisted. Her heart screamed no. She hadn’t slept her way through modeling or films. That’s why she had failed. She’d said no too many times. Sex had only happened with men she trusted—rarely, and only when it felt right. With Arjun, it had been wild, tender, raw—sometimes rushed, sometimes deep—but always chosen. Always hers.
But this?
This was not choice. This was survival.
Her skin crawled. Her mind raced. She imagined herself behind that tanker. On her back. Eyes shut. Used. Filthy hands. One after the other. Her breath caught. A wave of nausea hit. Her legs weakened.
Would she really have to do this? Just close her eyes and let it happen?
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak.
Trapped.
And for the first time since Arjun died, Maya felt completely powerless. Vulnerable. Alone.
Her body froze.
She waited for the answer.
“No,” Jaya said, cutting her off. “It’s me. I told them I’ll take it. Two men. Two turns. Behind the bush. Whenever they ask. That’s the deal.”
She paused, eyes flat. “Be glad they didn’t see you. Hope they don’t. You’re lucky. You’re clean. Stay that way. Just focus on getting inside the tanker. And getting the fuck out of here.”
Maya staggered back half a step. Her knees almost gave way. Relief washed over her, then guilt rushed in. She felt sick. Ashamed. Like she had just been caught trying to hand off her dignity.
“I thought... for a second...” Maya’s voice cracked. “I thought it had to be me.”
Jaya snorted softly. “You? You can’t handle this. You’re still crying over casting couch offers from ten years ago. This world’s different.”
Maya sat down slowly. Her throat burned. “You didn’t have to. We could’ve figured—”
“There’s nothing to figure,” Jaya said. “I’ve done worse. For less.”
Maya looked at her, eyes trembling.
Jaya stared ahead. Her voice flat. “Twelve. That’s when it began. Mama first. Then the neighbor. Then the shopkeeper. Then the cops. No one stopped. No one cared. At sixteen, I was traded for a bottle of whiskey. At twenty, I sucked off three men on a moving bus to avoid a police case. Standing. Crying. They laughed. I kept going. You think this is new for me? You think this breaks me? This is two fucks. In daylight. For a way out. That’s a fair deal. Compared to what the streets do to women like me? This is mercy.”
Maya’s eyes filled. She covered her mouth, trying not to sob. But the tears came fast.
Jaya turned, saw her crying, and looked away. “Don’t start crying now. It’s worse when you do.”
Silence.
Then Jaya stood. Her face blank. “Two days. That’s it. We’re getting out.”
Her voice turned firm. “You know the plan. No mistakes. No panic. Rest. Stay sharp. Practice getting in and out of that tanker in your head a hundred times. I’ll handle the rest.”
She paused, eyes steady. “Don’t hope. Don’t pray. Just prepare.”
She walked off without a second glance.
Maya sat frozen, tears streaming.
Freedom had a price.
And Jaya had signed the deal with her body.
Behind a bush. With two men. No questions. No mercy.
Maya sat in silence, the truth slicing through her like a blade.
They had two days. If everything went right, they were gone.
If anything went wrong—she didn’t want to think about it.
Because staying back meant death.
Or worse.
Section 7: The Flesh Trade
It was the night before the escape.
After dinner, Jaya gave Maya a small nod. No words. Just the signal.
They slipped out of the cell in near darkness and headed to the far toilet ward. It was the only place with broken bulbs and blind corners. But even that wasn’t safe. Ever since Rani’s murder, guards were on edge. Inmates whispered less. Eyes watched everything.
Inside, they crouched behind the broken partition near the last stall. Their voices were whispers. Fast. Tense.
Jaya listed every step of the plan again—entry, climb, silence, breathing. Maya tried to focus, but her mind spun with fear.
Suddenly, footsteps. Then a flashlight beam cut across the corridor outside.
A female guard.
Jaya pulled Maya down. They crouched lower, hearts racing.
The torchlight came closer. Shuffling steps. Then stopped.
They held their breath.
The light didn’t turn. The beam stayed on the main path. A few more seconds. Then footsteps faded.
Gone.
They didn’t move for a full minute.
Then Jaya exhaled. “We’re good.”
Maya nodded silently. She was sweating all over.
They finished the plan in hushed tones. No mistakes. No repeats. This was it.
Then they slipped back into the shadows and returned to their cell.
No one saw them.
No one could know.
As soon as they returned, Jaya didn’t rest. She stood by the wall, pulled out a broken comb, and ran it through her hair with sharp, impatient strokes. She dusted her face with the last traces of talcum from a nearly empty bottle, rubbing it in like war paint.
Maya watched, stunned. “Where are you going, Jaya?” she asked, confused. “It's almost lights out. We need to rest before tomorrow.”
Jaya didn’t answer immediately. She kept fixing her hair in the shattered mirror, wiping smudges from her face like it mattered.
“Time to go pay the fuckin’ advance,” she said flat. “The dogs sent word. They want their fix. Tonight. Can’t even wait a few hours to get their cocks wet.”
The words hit Maya like a slap. Her stomach twisted. Her face flushed. She felt like vomiting.
Jaya shrugged. “What’s there to it? Lie down. Spread legs. Let them pump and grunt. Maybe throw in a moan if it speeds them up. Get it done. I’ll be back soon. You sleep. Tomorrow’s the big day.”
And just like that, she walked away. Calm. Like she was off to pay a deposit at a store.
Maya sat frozen.
Was this real?
Is this how it worked—sex for escape?
No hesitation. No resistance. Just a woman walking into the dark to give herself up.
Maya’s stomach churned. Did men really need it like this? Couldn’t they wait? Couldn’t they have taken Jaya after the escape?
But men were men.
Lecherous. Insensitive. Cruel.
She imagined if it had been her. If they had demanded Maya instead. Her hands shook. A cold sweat broke out. The thought of it made her feel filthy, violated—without even being touched.
She lay down but couldn’t sleep. Her eyes stayed wide, glued to the ceiling.
Thirty minutes passed.
Jaya returned.
Her hair was a mess. Her clothes twisted. There was dirt on her legs. Her walk was slow, stiff. She looked like she had been dragged through hell and spat out the other side.
“Bloody bastards,” Jaya muttered as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“They brought a third. Filthy bastard. Said it was his turn too. Didn’t even ask—just yanked me down, shoved it in from the back like I was some garbage heap. No spit. No warning. Just tore through. I bled. Screamed. They laughed. Fucking animals.”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“But it’s done now. Over.”
She leaned back, eyes closed.
“Once we’re out, God knows how much more of this I’ll have to take before I can stand on my own and earn something. And on top of that, I have to pay these dogs two lakhs to get us out.”
Her voice was blank. Not angry. Not sad. Just tired.
Maya sat up. Her throat was tight. Her chest ached.
She reached out and hugged Jaya, breaking down in sobs.
“You’re doing all this… not just for yourself… but for someone like me. A nobody. A stranger you met in hell. Who does that, Jaya? Who gives their body, their pain, their blood for someone who means nothing?”
Her voice cracked. Tears ran down her face. “You must’ve been my mother in some past life. Who else would take the beatings for me? Who else would go through this filth, this horror… just to drag me out?”
She clutched Jaya tighter. “What have I done to deserve this? What have you done to yourself?”
Jaya didn’t answer. She was too tired.
She just hushed Maya softly, like a child, and laid back.
They didn’t speak again.
They lay in silence. One numb. One shattered.
And the night passed.
Section 8: Out, But Not Free
The morning arrived grey and damp. The air was heavy with mist. Maya hadn’t slept. Her body felt numb, her eyes raw from crying. Jaya had woken early. Silent. Focused. Not a word spoken between them. Nothing needed saying.
They wore what every inmate wore—khaki sari and blouse, stiff and sweat-stained. Nothing else. No jewellery, no layers, no extras. Everything had been stripped away on day one.
Jaya reminded Maya of the rules: no noise, no panic. Breathe through the mouth. Lie still. Don’t speak. Not even a whisper.
A tanker rolled in at 10:12 a.m.
Jaya’s eyes locked on it. Her heart skipped.
Wrong shape. No ladder. Different driver. Not Sheikh. Not Abdul.
“What the fuck—” she whispered.
Her breath quickened. Her chest tightened. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t the deal. They’d fucked her—after taking everything.
Maya looked at her, confused. “Jaya? What is it?”
Jaya didn’t answer. Her jaw clenched.
“That’s not them,” she said finally. Voice low. Tense.
Maya panicked. “What? Then who—where—what happened?”
“Shut up,” Jaya snapped. Her eyes never left the tanker.
The guards waved it off to the side—towards the workshop.
Oil.
Her throat burned. Was it betrayal? Did Sheikh back out after using her? Was the entire thing a cruel fucking joke?
Then, another rumble.
A second tanker rolled in.
Same dull shell. Same hiss. But this one had a ladder.
Jaya’s breath caught.
Sheikh. Driving. Abdul beside him, head low.
Relief hit her like a collapsing wall. She stumbled back against the shed.
The first tanker—oil. For the garage.
This one—this one was hers.
Paid for. In flesh.
The tanker hissed as it began emptying into the prison tank. It would take at least fifteen minutes.
Jaya and Maya lingered around the area. No crowd yet—the tank was still dry. Inmates only came with buckets once it filled up.
Sheikh and Abdul were doing their part. Sheikh lit up a conversation with the lady guards, laughing, keeping it casual. Abdul handed out free gutka sachets like candy. Anything to distract. It worked. One guard was busy emptying a packet into her palm, the other flipping through a film magazine.
The tanker finished unloading. Pipes were rolled back. Sheikh gave a small nod toward Jaya.
That was it.
Go time.
Jaya pulled Maya’s sleeve. They moved fast. Low. Quiet. One guard had just walked off. The other was deep in her gutka and glossy pages.
Sheikh revved the engine—soft but urgent. Abdul peeked nervously from the window.
The ladder was at the back. The heavy lid was open. Jaya noticed. Smart move. Maybe the bastards weren’t all scum.
Maya reached the tanker first. She climbed quick. Slipped once. Regained grip. Pulled herself in.
Jaya followed right after. Her hand paused on the lid. She yanked it shut behind her.
The thud echoed.
One guard glanced over.
Nothing.
Sheikh felt the shift in weight. His load was in. He put the vehicle into gear.
As the tanker rolled forward, Abdul touched the black taveez on his neck.
They were rolling.
And they were in.
Inside, it was hell.
Pitch dark. Airless. The metal walls pressed in from all sides like a coffin. Water sloshed beneath them—cold, stale, stinking. Every shift sent ripples that echoed like whispers.
Maya's knees hit the floor hard. Her palms scraped metal. She gasped, reaching blindly.
Something slimy brushed her ankle.
She froze.
“What the fuck was that?” she whispered, voice shaking.
Jaya didn’t answer. She was breathing through her mouth, her back pressed to the curved wall. Still. Silent.
Then came the hiss. Faint. Long. From the far end.
Maya clutched Jaya's arm. Her nails dug in.
“Jaya,” she breathed. “There’s something in here.”
“I know,” Jaya said. Calm. Cold. “Ignore it. Stay low.”
Maya shut her eyes even in the dark. Her heart was racing. Her stomach flipped. The stench, the heat, the fear—it was all too much.
For a moment, she wished it was over. Wished the snake—or whatever it was—would just end it.
She clung tighter to Jaya. Buried her face in her arm.
The tanker roared on. Their coffin moved. And they waited in the wet dark, alive but buried.
The tanker rolled forward.
They were past the gate.
They didn’t speak. They didn’t cry. Just lay still.
Fifteen minutes later, the tanker slowed. A turn. Then another.
Then—silence.
The hatch creaked.
A crack of blinding light tore through the blackness.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The sudden brightness was violent. It stabbed their eyes, burned through the silence, carved a path out of the coffin.
Air rushed in. Real air. Not rust and rot.
“Out. Fast,” Sheikh said, his voice sharp, urgent.
Jaya blinked hard, then moved.
Maya followed, crawling toward the light like a survivor clawing out of a grave.
Jaya went first. Maya followed, falling out more than climbing.
They landed behind an abandoned warehouse on the edge of a highway. Dust. Trees. Broken walls. Freedom.
Sheikh didn’t wait. “Two weeks. That’s fourteen days,” he said. “You owe two lakhs. Don’t make me come looking.”
His tone wasn’t a threat. It was a rule. An unspoken one—known across every slum, street, and cell. A debt in the underworld wasn’t just money. It was blood, honor, survival. You pay. No matter what.
Sheikh started the engine and rolled forward.
From the passenger seat, Abdul stayed leaned halfway out the window. His eyes locked on Maya—wet, shaken, blouse clinging to her chest.
He licked his lips slowly.
“Only if we knew Jaya’s partner was like this,” he muttered, eyes glued to Maya. “We’d have asked to fuck her instead. That Jaya was as dry as old bread. This one—shit—worth the damn risk. Looks like she’d scream and beg both.”
His crotch stirred as he leaned further out the window, saliva thick in his mouth. “Fuck, what a missed chance. I feel like jumping off this truck and dragging her behind a bush right now.”
He looked at Sheikh.
The driver’s face was stone. Eyes on the road. Probably thinking of the two lakhs.
Abdul smirked, his mind filthy and full.
He kept staring as the tanker picked up speed. In his mind, she was already stripped. Moaning. Replaced Jaya without a blink.
His crotch twitched. The regret burned.
He spat out the window, still fantasizing, eyes dark with filth.
As the tanker pulled away and the women disappeared behind dust and trees, Abdul’s breath still came fast. His mind replayed Maya’s face, her wet blouse, her trembling body.
He cursed under his breath. “Fuck. Could’ve had her. Should’ve.”
To calm the fire in his gut and crotch, he tore open a gutka sachet with his teeth and dumped it into his mouth. Bitter grains hit his tongue like gravel. His jaw clenched hard, grinding the filth in.
The nicotine hit. His nerves eased.
But the lust didn’t fade.
The taste in his mouth was harsh, raw.
Like regret.
Maya stood barefoot on dry mud, her legs shaking, breath ragged. The prison walls were gone, but the fear had followed. Her skin still stung from the inside of that tanker. Her hair clung to her face. The stench hadn’t left her lungs.
Jaya didn’t speak. Just stared at the sky like it owed her answers.
They had made it out.
But they weren’t free.
Not really.
They could still be caught. Dragged back. Named. Punished. The system had a long memory—and so did the men who'd let them go.
Maya took a few shaky steps. The road ahead was dirt and silence. No money. No plan. No safe place. Just risk.
She glanced at Jaya. Still unmoved. Still unreadable.
Maya wished she had that kind of armor. She didn’t.
She was scared.
The escape was done.
Now came what was worse.
Survival.