The same night at the party...

  Julia stood near the edge of the grand hall, her eyes sharp as they took in the glittering crowd. The opulent surroundings, the influential guests, and the mysterious host, all of it felt like a tangled web, and she felt like right in the middle of it.

  As the evening wore on, Julia and Sam endured the exhausting social dance of the elite. Julia, who loathed forced interactions, was just about to excuse herself when a familiar voice cut through the chatter.

  "Julia! Sam! The room's most famous archaeologists!" The relentless reporter from The Daily News approached with his usual, overwhelming energy.

  Julia forced a smile, masking her irritation. Sam, ever the diplomat, shook his hand. "Good to see you. You certainly helped put us on the map."

  The reporter beamed. "Well, I couldn’t have done it without your story! Look at you two, rubbing shoulders with the big shots. Who would’ve thought?"

  Julia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, wishing they’d never done that interview. Sam chuckled, playing along.

  Before the reporter could press further, a chime rang out, signaling dinner. The guests shifted toward the buffet, eager for the lavish spread.

  Julia followed the crowd, grabbing a plate and surveying the food, but her mind was elsewhere. As she moved down the line, she noticed Mr. Curl standing alone near the far end, his attention focused on the other guests, his smile wide as he played the perfect host.

  She hesitated, unsure whether to approach him. But the truth was, despite her reservations, he was the only person at this party she had genuinely enjoyed talking to. And besides, she was still curious about what he had said earlier.

  Making up her mind, she walked over to where Curl was selecting his food. As she approached, he looked up and met her gaze, his expression pleasantly surprised.

  "Ah, Dr. Julia," he said warmly. "Enjoying the evening? - Oh, do try the local cuisine, a bit spicy but worth it!"

  She returned his smile, a bit more genuine this time. "It’s been interesting. And yes ofcourse, I have started to develop the tolerance for it, Mr. Curl."

  "Please, call me Thomas," he said, waving off the formality as he picked up a piece of bread. "And thank you. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself."

  As they moved along the buffet, Julia took a deep breath and decided to ask the question that had been on her mind. "Thomas, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up as a feudal lord here? You don’t seem to be from around these parts."

  Curl chuckled, clearly flattered by her curiosity. "You’re right, I’m not a native. My father fell in love and married a woman from here, so I’m half English, half Pakistani.” He smirked.

  “I inherited a jewelry business back in England.” Curl continued as he took a bite, “The business wasn’t doing too well, or maybe I wasn’t the right man for it—so about 30 years ago, I decided to reallocate my finances to what I like to call my ‘motherland’.”

  Julia smiled at his playful tone as they moved down the line, selecting more food. "So, you sold the gold and bought the lands and got into the agricultural business?"

  "Precisely," Curl said, nodding. "It’s a bit like the wild west here, as you might have noticed. But if you’re smart and loyal, people treat you like family.”

  His voice carried a casual confidence, but something in his eyes flickered, just for a moment. Julia caught it but said nothing.

  “I bought a lot of land here,” Curl continued, taking a bite. “Much of it isn’t even profitable—just to help the poor. I consider them my people, and I take care of them. In return, they take care of me.”

  Julia studied him, intrigued. This was not the story she had expected from the flamboyant businessman. There was something disarmingly earnest about the way he spoke of his life here. Maybe he truly did see himself as more than just an investor.

  As they reached the end of the buffet, she decided to steer the conversation toward something more pressing. "Thomas, earlier you mentioned ‘concerning whisperings’ about the excavation site. What did you mean by that?"

  Curl hesitated, swirling the drink in his glass. His usual ease wavered.

  For the first time, Julia sensed the shift—not in his words, but in his body language. A slight glance away, a momentary pause. He was choosing his words.

  "Julia," he finally said, his voice softer, "I didn’t mean to alarm you. I respect the work you and Sam are doing. It’s just that… some people here aren’t as thrilled about it as I am."

  A chill ran down Julia’s spine. "What kind of people? And why would they care about us digging up the site?"

  Curl exhaled, his fingers tapping against the rim of his glass. He looked around, as if making sure no one else was listening, then leaned in slightly.

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  "There are people who don’t want Mohenjo Daro further excavated. Probably worried about what you might uncover."

  Julia kept her face neutral, but her mind was already racing. What could they possibly find that would provoke resistance? This site had been studied for decades. There were no legends of hidden treasures or undiscovered tombs—at least, none that held any weight.

  She cleared her throat. "You mean locals? Officials?"

  Curl shook his head. "I don’t ask too many questions. But in a place like this, sometimes it’s better not to. If anything, strange happens, anything at all, I’m just a phone call away."

  Julia forced a smile, though her stomach tightened. "I appreciate the concern, Thomas. But we’re scientists, not treasure hunters."

  Curl gave a small, knowing smile but didn’t argue. "Take care, Julia."

  As she excused herself, she tried to steady her thoughts. Was he just being dramatic? Playing into the mystery of it all?

  Or was there something real behind his words?

  The room suddenly felt smaller, the grand chandeliers and golden décor suffocating instead of dazzling.

  She scanned the crowd and spotted Sam, his usual easy smile in place as he spoke with a group of well-dressed guests. But the moment their eyes met; his expression shifted. He knew something was wrong.

  With a smooth, practiced charm, he excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward her.

  "Sam," she murmured, her voice just low enough for him to hear, "I’m not feeling good. I think we should leave."

  He didn’t ask questions. "Let’s go."

  As they moved toward the exit, Julia’s mind whirled with possibilities, each one darker than the last. Curl’s warning wasn’t just a rich man’s paranoia.

  Something was wrong.

  And she had no idea what she was walking into.

  ***

  Once outside, the cool night air hit her, a stark contrast to the warmth of the party. They made their way to the car in silence, the gravel crunching under her feet. As they slipped into the car, Julia could feel the weight of what she was about to share pressing down on her.

  Sam started the engine, and the car roared to life, the sound somehow comforting in the quiet of the night. They pulled away from the mansion, leaving behind its glowing lights and distant chatter.

  "Sam, we need to talk about what Curl said. It was... alarming." Julia broke the silence as they drove down the dark, winding road.

  Sam’s eyes remained on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. "What exactly did he say?"

  "He kind of warned us, Sam. He mentioned that there are people who don’t want Mohenjo Daro excavated further. He didn’t go into details, but it was clear he was genuinely concerned for our safety." Julia took a deep breath, her hand resting on her temple. After a slight pause, she continued, "It felt like he was giving us a heads-up, in his own way."

  Sam’s jaw tightened; his frustration evident. "I wish you hadn’t pushed him on the subject, Julia. We don’t know this guy well enough to trust him completely."

  Julia bristled at his tone. "It’s better to know what we’re getting into than to be blindsided later."

  The road stretched out before them; a ribbon of asphalt bordered by darkness. The faint glow of distant headlights flickered on the horizon, the only light besides their own.

  "There’s a light following us," Sam muttered, almost to himself. "It’s been there for a while, since we left the party.” His gaze shifted from rear view mirror back to the road ahead, “Probably just a motorcycle.”

  Julia turned in her seat, peering out the back window. Sure enough, a dim light, like a distant candle flame, wavered in the dark. It seemed to be gaining on them, inch by inch.

  "Do you think… do you think it’s following us?" she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

  Sam didn’t answer immediately, his focus returning to the road ahead. "Maybe. But let’s not jump to conclusions. Right now, we need to stay calm."

  Julia bit her lip, her mind racing. "Should we tell Curl about the crystal we found? He seems friendly, but... we barely know him."

  Sam’s eyes flicked toward her briefly before returning to the road. "I was thinking the same thing. But can he be trusted?" He paused for a moment, then continued, "Look, if we’re in trouble, Curl might be able to help us, but involving him means we have to be transparent about what we found and probably hand it over."

  “No,’ Julia said without hesitation, “We’re not giving away anything.” She said decisively, before adding, “Besides, It could also put Curl in danger too," Julia interjected. "He didn’t seem very comfortable when I pushed for more answers."

  The light behind them grew larger, unmistakably closer now. The shape of a motorcycle began to materialize in the rear-view mirror, its lone headlight a glaring eye in the dark.

  "You know what, let’s top at he next station," Sam said, his tone irritated, leaving no room for argument. "Let’s see if that bike is actually following us or if we’re being paranoid.”

  As they closed in on the petrol station, Julia realized it was empty. At this late hour, it felt like a ghost town, with no cars in sight and the pumps standing silent and still.

  As they pulled into the station, the bright lights overhead flickered, casting a harsh glow over the empty lot. Julia’s eyes were glued to the rear-view mirror, watching the motorcycle that had been trailing them.

  Her heart skipped a beat as the bike didn’t speed past as she had hoped. Instead, it slowed, hesitating at the entrance, before turning into the station and making its way toward them.

  "Sam," she whispered urgently, her voice trembling. "He’s coming toward us. We need to get out of here."

  Sam looked up from the fuel gauge, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the approaching biker. He fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking slightly as he jammed them into the ignition.

  "Sam, now!" Julia’s voice rose, her fear turning into desperation.

  Sam’s pulse raced as he turned the key, the car roaring to life. Without a second thought, he slammed his foot on the accelerator, the tires screeching as the car lurched forward. The sudden acceleration startled the biker, who was directly in their path.

  The biker tried to maneuver away from the speeding car, swerving hard to the side. The headlights briefly illuminated the figure, just a shadow, faceless under the dark helmet. The bike wobbled violently as the rider lost control, and with a sickening thud, the motorcycle skidded sideways, crashing onto the pavement.

  Julia couldn’t tear her eyes away as they sped past, her head whipping around to see the biker sprawled on the ground, the motorcycle lying in a twisted heap beside him. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else. Sam’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, pushing the car to its limits as they raced away from the station. The adrenaline surged through his veins, fear and shock mingling in his mind as the distance between them and the fallen biker grew.

  Neither of them spoke, the silence thick with the weight of what had just happened. Julia’s hands were shaking uncontrollably as she finally turned forward, her mind racing as fast as the car. She couldn’t shake the image of the biker on the ground, the way he had been so close, too close.

  But as they barreled down the road, she knew one thing for certain, whatever they had uncovered, whatever secrets lay buried in Mohenjo Daro, they were in far deeper than they had ever anticipated. And the dangers they faced were no longer just rumors or whispers, they were real, and they were closing in fast.

  ***