The day had begun like a hundred others before it — tapping into Kiaan's phone feed, decoding voice signals, screening his texts, recording his calls. Rex sat in his glass-encased office, the skyline of London stretching behind him, arms folded, eyes locked on the laptop that fed him live updates from Kiaan Verma's hacked device. For months, this digital leash had allowed Rex to stay ten steps ahead — blocking raids, shifting shipments, laundering money with perfect silence.
But that illusion shattered in a single, silent move.
Because today… Kiaan made no call. Sent no message. No encrypted file, no whispered conversation to any teammate. Nothing.
And yet, thirty minutes later, Rex's jaw clenched as his assistant sprinted in with a single breathless sentence:
"Kiaan Verma is at Bloodline Automotives."
Rex turned slowly. That name — Bloodline — wasn't just a car showroom. It was his showroom. A polished front for laundering millions. And the fact that Kiaan had just walked in without a single digital breadcrumb—terrified him more than any gun ever could.
"How the hell did he get there?" Rex growled, voice sharp as broken glass. "We didn't see a damn thing on his phone!"
"No messages, no calls, sir. Nothing."
"Call Mikhail. Now," Rex snapped. "Tell him to clean it. Every drawer. Every inch."
–––
One Hour Earlier...
Kiaan stood before a digital pinboard filled with intelligence clutter — maps, photos, shipping trails, coded names. His eyes flicked sharply across the screen, hand trailing a path none of them had followed yet.
"I think we've been circling the wrong shark," he muttered to himself, tapping one name: Bloodline Automotives. No one had even marked it. No one talked about it. Which is exactly why he trusted his gut.
He didn't call anyone. Didn't text. He just grabbed his coat and tossed the keys to Dev. "Change of plan. We're hitting Bloodline Automotives. Right now."
Dev blinked. "What? That wasn't even on our radar—"
"Exactly."
–––
The black SUV skidded to a stop before the chrome-glass walls of the luxury showroom. Kiaan stepped out first, eyes razor-sharp. "Sweep every corner. No questions. Just move."
Tara and Rehaan exchanged looks but nodded. Within seconds, the team was inside — agents disguised as buyers, dealers, customers. The showroom manager rushed forward, stammering with a confused smile.
"Sir, do you have an appointment? We weren't—"
But Kiaan stormed past him like wind slicing glass. "Out of my way."
The tension rippled instantly.
Then came a new presence. Calm. Polished. Deadly.
Mikhail D'Costa — sleek suit, cold eyes, the man who kept Rex's empire's spine straight. He walked up with three lawyers behind him and folded his hands politely. "Agent Verma. This is highly irregular. May I ask what this is about?"
Kiaan didn't answer. He didn't need to.
But just as his fingers reached for a drawer in the back office—his phone buzzed. Private line. Unknown number.
He picked it up. That voice. Smooth, calculated, amused.
"Searching in my house now, little wolf?"
Kiaan's jaw clenched. "Rex Malhotra."
"Oh, don't sound so surprised. You broke into a very personal space today. You know me well enough by now — I don't like uninvited guests."
"You running scared already?"
"No," Rex replied, voice low and icy. "But I do know what you're doing. Trying to push me. But you're not the only one who can push, Kiaan."
A pause.
Then Rex said one line — calm, but laced with venom:
"Keep playing hero, and you'll get people killed. Not yourself — because we both know you never cared about that."
Kiaan froze.
That hit deeper than bullets ever could. Because it was true. Rex knew it. Kiaan would die a hundred times — but hurting his team? That was a price he'd never pay.
Kiaan lowered the phone.
"Abort the search," he said tightly.
Dev spun. "What? What do you mean abort?"
"Captain, we just—" Tara started.
"Abort." His voice cracked like thunder. "Now."
They followed. Reluctantly. Confused. Rehaan lingered, staring hard at Kiaan before turning around.
–––
In the car, silence.
Then Tara finally spoke. "Kiaan… what the hell just happened?"
Rehaan leaned forward. "That place was hot. You felt it. Why did you pull back?"
Kiaan stared out the window, jaw locked. "He knows everything. Rex. He knows how to get to me."
Dev whispered, "He threatened you?"
"No," Kiaan replied, voice low. "He threatened you all."
Tara looked shaken. "So what now?"
Kiaan didn't answer.
Because in the back of his mind, Rex's words still echoed.
You'll get people killed.
And in that moment, Kiaan knew — this war wasn't going to be won by guns or files anymore.
It would be won by silence. Misdirection. Shadows.
And most of all—a move no one could trace.