The gravel crunched softly beneath their polished shoes as Raunaksh and Yashwardhan strolled through the rose-lined garden of the party company’s estate. Early sunlight filtered through the chinar trees, the dew on leaves catching gold.

“The dashcam footage,” Raunaksh began, his voice steady, “is partially corrupted. Blurry at best. But Unit Zarrar is working on it. We’ll try to enhance the frames, maybe isolate the license plate or the direction it came from.”