Chapter - 1

The night was restless. The sky rumbled with distant thunder as heavy rain poured over the abandoned docks. The air smelled of damp metal and gasoline and the sharp scent of fear.

Amidst the chaos, a group of men moves like hunters, their sharp eyes scanning every corner, their hands gripping weapons —knives, guns, anything that could kill in a heartbeat. Their leader, a tall man with a scar on his cheek, cursed under his breath.

"He couldn't have gone far," he muttered, tightening his grip on his revolver. " Spread out. Find him. Kill him."

Behind a pile of rusted metal boxes, a man lay, gasping for breath. His body was broken, his face smeared with blood and rain. His clothes clung to him, soaked from the relentless downpour. One of his hands pressed tightly against his abdomen, trying to stop the blood from sweeping from the deep wound. Every breath sent a jolt of agony through him, but he can't stop now. He had escaped. He had to survive. 

"I refused to die… Not until I've buried that bastard myself," he growled, his voice laced with fury and an unshakable resolve. 

He peered between the gaps of the stacked boxes, eyes darting between his hunters. Their boots splashed through puddles as they searched, their movement sharp and restless. Lightning flashed, momentarily revealing his hiding spot. He held his breath, hoping that they hadn't seen him.

One of them turned in its direction, flickering suspiciously within its cold eyes. He tensed.

Not now. Not yet

A man started moving towards him, his footsteps splashing through the puddles. But just then, a distant noise—a metal can rolling across the wet pavement —distracted them. It was the only chance he would get.

He took a deep breath, his body aching with exhaustion. "I have no more energy left…I can't fight anymore," he muttered to himself "I have to wait for the right time… but first,I have to escape from here."

Ignoring the pain screaming through his body, he stood up and started moving backwards carefully. In order to save himself from being seen.

Water splashed under his feet with each step, his vision blurred from exhaustion and rain. He pushed his body forward, ignoring the throbbing in his side. He was close to the main road. If he could just get there —

Headlight. Blinding, fast-moving headlights.

A black car sped towards him, too fast to stop. He barely had time to react before it struck him, the force sending him crashing onto the hood before his body tumbled into the air. The world spun. Pain exploded through him. And then — Darkness.

With a loud splash, he hit the river, the cold water swallowing him instantly. The weight of his injuries dragged him down, his consciousness slipping as his body sank.

On the docks, The gangsters still searched, oblivious to what had just happened. Their leader's figure growled in irritation.

"Enough! Get in the car. It's too late now, and it'll be hard searching for him in the rain and darkness. We'll find him later."

One by one, they climbed into the black SUVs, the engines roaring to life before they sped away into the city.

***

The cars screeched to a halt in front of a towering glass skyscraper, its reflective surface mirroring the city's chaos. The neon signs outside flickered, casting distorted shadows against the rain-slicked pavement. The storm had eased to a drizzle, but the air still carried the scent of wet asphalt and gasoline. Cars rushed, their headlights slicing through the darkness. Pedestrians clutched their umbrellas, hurrying along, oblivious to the silent war unfolding just inside the grand building.

The men exited their vehicles with urgency, their soaked boots slapping against the pavement as they moved towards the entrance. Their faces hardened, their eyes sharp—trained killers, each one carrying a deadly weight beneath their drenched coats. The leader of the group, a tall, broad-shouldered brute with a jagged scar running from his eyebrow to his cheek, led them inside without a word.

As they entered, the temperature shifted. The luxurious lobby was a stark contrast to the storm outside. The air was thick with expensive cologne, the soft hum of jazz playing in the background. The polished Marble floors reflected the golden glow of a grand chandelier hanging overhead, but the men had no time to admire the opulence. They move past the reception desk without so much as a glance, making their way to the private elevator.

With a ding, the doors slid open, revealing the mirrored interior. The men piled in, their wet clothes leaving dark stains on the plush carpeting. As the elevator ascended, the tension inside thickened. None of them spoke, but they all shared the same unspoken fear—disappointing the man they were about to face. 

When the doors finally slid open, they were met with a wall of thick, swirling cigar smoke. The scent of expensive whiskey and burnt tobacco clung to the air, mixing with the underlying musk of power and authority.

The room was designed in such a way that it reflected not just wealth but power also. Dark leather couches lined the walls, and intricate abstract paintings decorated the dimly lit space. A massive oak table was set in the center, surrounded by men who ruled the underground world. Their faces were cast in shadow, their sharp eyes barely visible through the Haze of smoke. They were legends in crime, the kind of men whose names never made the news but were whispered in fear across the city.

At the head of the table, he sat—the boss. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, he exuded effortless authority. His shirt was crisp, the top buttons undone just enough to reveal a glint of gold beneath. A thick ring adorned his index finger, the emblem of his empire engraved into the metal. In one hand, he held a half-empty glass of wine, swirling the crimson liquid slowly. In the other, a smoldering cigarette rests between his fingers. Even in the dim lighting, the black sunglasses made him look even more untouchable.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

The leader of the search party stepped forward hesitantly, his head slightly bowed. His scarred face was right with tension, knowing full well that the words he was about to speak could seal his fate.

"Mr. Khan… we couldn't find him."

A deadly pause followed. The only sound was the quiet ticking of an ornate clock on the far wall.

The air grew with tension. The boss took a slow sip of his wine before placing the glass down with a soft clink.

" You're telling me… that after all the resources I gave you after all the time wasted, you still let a half-dead bastard escape?" His voice was calm, almost amused. But danger lurked beneath every syllable.

"Mr. Khan, we—"

Before the man could finish, the boss picked up the wine bottle and, without hesitation, hurled it at him. The glass shattered against the man's chest, dark red liquid spilling like blood.

"What a drag you are," the boss muttered, shaking his head. "Useless."

The man fell to his knees, panting, fear evident in his eyes. The others remained silent, not daring to interfere.

The boss leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long stream of smoke before smirking. "Find him. Or next time… it won't be the wine I'll be throwing. It'll be your damn head, you worthless jerk."

The room remains silent, except for the ticking of a nearby clock.

Outside, the storm raged on.

The boss then turned his gaze towards the other man in the room, one who had been standing in the shadows. "And check on that girl," he ordered coldly. "The one who's locked in the room. If she knows anything, I want to hear it. If she doesn't…" he paused, his lips curling into a sinister smirk, "make her talk."

A tense nod came from one of the men before he disappeared down the hallway. The others exchanged uneasy glances but remained frozen in place, waiting for further instructions.

The boss took another slow drag of his cigarette, his expression unreadable. "I don't like loose ends. That bastard is out there, bleeding, weak, running like a rat. And you idiot, let him slip through your fingers."

He exhaled sharply, flicking ash onto the floor. "I don't care if you have to turn this whole city upside down. You will find him. You will drag him back here, and I will personally deal with him to stop. understood?"

A chorus of quiet "Yes, Mr. Khan" filled the room. But the tension did not lessen.

He gave them a final glare before waving them off dismissively. "Get out of my sight and don't come back until you have something worth telling me."

One by one, the men scurried out of the room, their boots echoing against the floor. The boss remained, swirling the remaining wine in his glass, his thoughts dark, calculating.

"Run as much as you can, brat, I will catch you soon," he murmured to himself, gazing out at the cityscape.

Somewhere in the city, the hunt had begun again.

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