Nandini Sharma hurried across the rain-slicked streets of Mumbai, her backpack heavy with textbooks. At 20, she was the epitome of innocence--a second-year literature student at the local university, with wide hazel eyes, long black hair tied in a simple ponytail, and a modest salwar kameez that hid her budding curves. Her family back in the village scraped by on her father's meager farm income, and this city scholarship was her ticket out of poverty. She avoided the seedy underbelly of the metropolis, sticking to well-lit paths, but tonight, a shortcut through the alley seemed harmless.

That's when she saw it: a black SUV idling, two men dragging a bound figure toward it. Gunshots echoed faintly from a nearby warehouse. Nandini froze, heart pounding. One of the men spotted her, his face scarred and menacing. 'Hey, girl! Get lost or you're next!'