The conference room at the Central Intelligence HQ was drenched in a tense silence, disturbed only by the subtle hum of the giant screen booting up at the front. A long obsidian table stretched across the center, occupied by some of the brightest agents the force had trained. Kiaan sat near the front, shoulders stiff, eyes sharp. Tara beside him looked restless. Rehaan tapped his pen rhythmically while Dev leaned back with arms crossed.
And then, the doors opened.
Joint Director Raghav Kapoor stepped in first — tall, crisp, every wrinkle in his uniform perfectly aligned. Following him was the much-feared Director Arvind Bansal, known for making decisions that either made headlines or ended careers.
They didn't waste time.
"Agents," Raghav began, walking to the head of the room, "you are not here today to discuss a usual case. We are discussing a ghost. A myth. A man who's ruled the darkest underworld of England for almost a decade — unseen."
With a nod to the tech agent, the screen behind them lit up. A map of England filled the wall, marked with red Xs scattered like wounds.
"This," Arvind continued, pointing to the red marks, "is every location where we've suspected Reyaan Malhotra operated. None confirmed. And yet—"
He tapped another screen. A list appeared.
"—Every one of these places was eventually raided. Or burned. Or mysteriously bought out and replaced. And every time… no trace of him. No fingerprints. No name on paper. Not a single photograph. Not a strand of DNA."
Tara leaned forward. "Not even CCTV footage?"
"Wiped," said Raghav. "Or tampered beyond repair. This man doesn't exist in the system."
Dev scoffed. "And yet he rules everything?"
Director Arvind's eyes narrowed. "He doesn't just rule. He owns. We're not talking about some underground dealer or street kingpin. We're talking about someone who owns private banks, shipping docks, pharmaceutical shells, and political proxies. All silently. All from the shadows."
Rehaan asked, "Then how do we know it's one man? What if it's a syndicate using a name as a front?"
Arvind smirked darkly. "Because every agent who got too close—only one name escaped their lips before they were silenced."
Tara's voice lowered. "Reyaan Malhotra."
Raghav clicked another slide. Now the screen showed faces. Officers. Agents. All greyed-out. Some marked missing. Others killed in action.
"Every one of them had one mission. To locate, capture, or kill Reyaan Malhotra. Not a single one succeeded. Some never returned. Some were found… mutilated. The rest? Disappeared as if they never existed."
Kiaan's eyes burned into the screen. "So what do we know?"
Arvind nodded toward him. "You all need to understand something. Reyaan Malhotra is not dangerous because of what he does. He's dangerous because of how he does it."
He began pacing.
"No base. No identity. No pattern. Every business we suspect — Bloodline Automotives, Phantom Corp, Silverlight Logistics — they're squeaky clean legally. But the moment we tap deeper… they disappear. Or we lose agents."
"Sir," Tara interjected, "if he's that clean, how do we even find him?"
Raghav looked directly at Kiaan.
"That's where your team comes in. Because you're the only ones who've gotten this close. And you, Kiaan Verma… you made him call you personally. That means you've become a threat to him."
Kiaan's jaw clenched.
Arvind spoke lower now, like sharing a truth they'd all feared.
"We don't just want to catch Reyaan Malhotra anymore. We need to. Before England forgets the line between law and shadows."
Dev leaned forward, voice grim. "What if we fail like the others?"
Kiaan's reply came like steel.
"Then we go down making sure he remembers our names."
The screen faded. The room stayed silent.
But in that silence, a storm had already begun.
Because the ghost of England had finally met the one team brave — or reckless — enough to hunt a man who didn't exist.