Adultery NISHA:: A Hot Spy -Female Investigator Officer - Secret mission

[girrich9486]

Thankyou alll


::::::::Escaped completed::::::

 The craft moved steadily through the dark channels. Behind them the compound lights grew smaller. Ahead, the mainland was still only a direction, not a place they could see. Five people sat low in the hull. For the first time since the barred room, no one was running.
Vidya turned to Nisha. The weakness was still in her body, but her eyes were clear. She pulled Nisha into a tight hug and held on.
“Thank you. Again. I keep saying it because I mean it.”
Nisha held her back, firm and steady.
“No need. I should have come before. Look what they did to you. I am sorry. Really. The mission was mine first. I stopped. You went. That is on me.”
Vidya shook her head against her shoulder.
“You came. That is what matters now.”
Pratap sat near the rear, watching the water behind them. Taboo and Spurthi remained quiet, still absorbing the fact that the private night they had been chosen for had turned into an escape with two officers. Nisha kept one hand on the tiller and one eye on the channel markers. She had done heavy damage to Tony’s den — men down, rooms emptied, both brothers left on the basement floor — but she had no full picture yet of what that damage would cost once the network answered. The political cover in the city, the pressure on her husband’s work, the people who already wanted her broken: none of that had been settled by the escape. She only knew her friend was free and the island was falling behind them.
On the island the remaining guards finally reached the lower levels.
They found men on the corridor floors, some still breathing, some not moving. The barred door stood open. The hospitality suite was empty. In the basement room the scene was worse. Tony lay where he had collapsed after the kicks, blood on his shirt from the earlier wound, body curled from the pain. Christopher was in the corner, still out, the cut on his shoulder dark and stiff. Both were alive. Both had been deep in drink when the fight hit them, and the repeated blows had finished what the alcohol had started. They were down, not finished forever.
One of the men recognised the faces and shouted for help. Others came. Radios went up. The compound that had been confused and half-asleep snapped into emergency mode.
Doctors were brought in under urgency. They worked on Tony first, then Christopher, then the goons who still had a chance. Fluids, pressure on wounds, checks for internal injury from the groin strikes and the falls. Tony’s breathing stayed shallow but present. He did not speak. For two full days his voice did not return in any useful way. He drifted in and out, and every time his mind cleared even a little, the same images returned.
The woman in the stage clothes.
The way she had put his men down.
The moment she and the freed agent had stood over him and finished the job with their feet.
The empty rooms after.
He had not forgotten her face. Even through the pain and the drink and the medical haze, that face stayed fixed. The slut who was supposed to be dead. The officer who had walked into his den, taken his prisoners, and left him on the concrete. Anger sat in him like a second injury — silent, constant, waiting for the day he could use his voice and his network again.
Christopher survived as well. Some of the other men did too. The den was damaged, not erased. The political line in the city was still intact. And somewhere on the water, the woman Tony could not stop seeing was moving toward the mainland with the people she had pulled out of his rooms, still unaware of how wide the counter-strike would eventually reach — into her work, her marriage, and the house where the visiting card had already done its first quiet work.
The island began to stitch itself back together around the wounded.
The boat kept moving toward shore.
The next cost had not yet been named, but it had already started to form.



Home After Four Days
The door opened on the fourth day.
Raghu stood there. For a second his face did not move. Then he put on a smile that did not reach his eyes.
“Hey, Raghu. How are you?” Nisha asked, tired but bright.
“Yes, madam. Fine. What about you, madam?”
“I am so happy, Raghu. My mission was a grand success. I finished Tony. I saved Vidya. Everything is happy. All happy.”
Raghu nodded and wished her well in the same polite, empty way. The words were correct. The feeling behind them was not. Inside, the call, the visiting card, and the story he had been fed were still burning. He stepped aside and let her in.
Nisha went straight to Priya and pulled her into a hug.
“Hey, Priya. How are you? And the kid?”
Priya held her back. Her smile was quieter than Raghu’s, and more real. The hurt was still there, but in that moment she did not put on a full mask. Nisha went to freshen up, came back in clean clothes, hugged Priya again, and lifted the child into her arms. She laughed as the small weight settled against her. For a short while the house sounded ordinary — an officer home from a hard job, family in the room, a child in her hands.
“Congratulations, sister,” Priya said. “You did it. You won.”
Nisha’s face was open with relief and pride. Then Priya’s voice changed.
“But… do you know who bangd me?”
The colour left Nisha’s face. The child was still in her arms. She looked at Priya for a long second, the triumph of the island colliding with the reality of what had happened in this house while she was gone.
“I will sort this out also,” she said. Her voice was steady, full of the same stubborn care she brought to every case. “Within a week. I promise.”
There was real affection in her eyes, and real anger under it — not at Priya, but at whoever had done it. She did not know yet that the same people who had poisoned Raghu’s mind were already shaping the next move against her. She only knew her sister-in-law had been hurt and that she would not leave it unanswered.
Raghu watched from the side of the room. His face stayed polite. His mind was boiling. Every soft word Nisha spoke, every hug, every promise, scbangd against the version of her he now carried — the officer who had “closed the chapter” on them, the woman the recording and the familiar men from his office had painted as the reason for their pain. He said nothing. He only waited.
Nisha had not told Rajesh she was coming. She wanted the door, the shock, the first look. She stayed in the house through the evening, talking lightly, holding the child, checking that Priya ate something. The clock moved toward nine.
At nine the doorbell rang.
Nisha went to the door and opened it.
Rajesh stood on the step with his bag still on his shoulder. For a moment he simply stared, as if the person in front of him might disappear if he blinked. Then the shock broke into pure happiness. He dropped the bag, pulled her into his arms, and lifted her clean off the floor, turning once in the narrow entrance with her against his chest.
“You’re home,” he said into her hair, voice rough with relief. “You’re actually home.”
Nisha laughed against him, arms around his neck, the weight of the island and the basement and the escape falling away for a few clear seconds in the doorway of her own house.
Behind them, in the main room, Raghu’s polite face did not change. Priya looked at the floor. The child had been set down. The reunion at the door was real. The poison that had been planted in the same house was still real too — quiet, patient, and waiting for the plan the voice on the phone had promised.
Nisha did not see it yet. She only felt her husband’s arms and the simple fact that she had made it back....