Games of shadows

The night stretched on, but none of them were at ease.

Zayan leaned against the bar, spinning his empty glass between his fingers. Rudra had switched from his knife to his gun, lazily cleaning it, but his sharp eyes missed nothing. Karan sat in the corner, typing rapidly on his laptop, tracking every movement inside and outside the mansion.

And Veer?

He stood near the window, watching the city lights like a king overlooking his kingdom. His fingers tapped against the side of his whiskey glass, slow and measured.

The woman from earlier still lingered in his mind.

Something about her didn't sit right.

"Found anything?" he asked Karan without turning.

Karan exhaled. "Nothing on her yet. But Rehan? His accounts have been getting unusual deposits."

"From where?"

Karan's fingers danced across the keyboard. "Multiple sources. Some offshore, some linked to companies that don't actually exist. Classic money laundering setup." He smirked. "But someone got sloppy. One of the accounts traces back to Kuragari."

That got their attention.

Zayan straightened. "Kuragari? The smuggling hub?"

Rudra's grip on his gun tightened. "If he's connected to that place, he's filthier than we thought."

Veer finally turned. "He wouldn't be stupid enough to come here unless he wanted something."

"And the girl?" Zayan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Karan shook his head. "No records of her in any official databases. Almost like she doesn't exist."

"Which means she's either a ghost," Rudra muttered, "or someone erased her past."

Silence fell over the room, heavy and charged.

Then—

A sound.

A light, almost imperceptible shuffle.

In an instant, all four of them were on high alert.

Veer's gaze flicked to the doorway. The others followed.

The hall was empty.

Too empty.

Then—

Bang!

The doors burst open.

Men in tactical gear stormed in, guns raised. No words, no warnings—just straight to the kill.

A mistake.

Because they had just walked into a lion's den.

The first bullet whizzed past Veer's ear.

By the time the second one fired, Zayan had already flipped the bar table over for cover.

"Finally!" he grinned, pulling out his gun. "Something fun!"

Rudra was faster. He moved like a shadow, dodging bullets with precision before slamming his knee into the nearest man's ribs, twisting the gun out of his hands, and firing it back at his own people.

Karan stayed low, his fingers flying over his tablet. Within seconds, the mansion's security system was in his control.

"Cutting off exits," he muttered. "Nobody's leaving without permission."

Veer, meanwhile, didn't even flinch as a bullet zipped past his shoulder.

He stepped forward, grabbed the wrist of the man who had fired it, and twisted. The sickening crack of bones filled the air before Veer took the gun and shot him point-blank in the chest.

The others weren't far behind.

Zayan ducked behind the bar, popped up just long enough to fire three clean shots, and smirked when two men dropped instantly.

"Too easy," he muttered.

But then—

A sharp pain.

Zayan's smirk faltered. His hand flew to his neck—a dart.

His vision blurred.

"Shit," he muttered before collapsing.

---

Aftermath

The fight was over in minutes.

The bodies of their enemies littered the floor, the scent of blood thick in the air.

But Zayan—

Zayan was down.

Veer crouched beside him, checking his pulse. It was steady but weak. The dart had been laced with something.

"Get the medics," Veer ordered.

Rudra was already on the phone.

Karan frowned at the device in his hand. "Whoever they were, they wiped their digital trail clean before they entered." He scowled. "Which means this was planned. Someone is playing games with us."

Veer stood, his expression unreadable.

"Then let's remind them," he said, voice cold, "why we don't lose.

Zayan's breathing was slow but stable.

He lay on the couch, his usual smirk replaced by an unnatural stillness. The dart wound on his neck was barely visible, but whatever had been injected into him was enough to bring him down in seconds.

Rudra clenched his fists. "Whoever did this wanted to send a message."

"Yeah?" Karan scoffed, typing furiously on his laptop. "Well, they picked the wrong people to mess with."

Veer stood near the window, silent. His fingers rested on his wrist, where he had just received a message. One single word.

"Checkmate."

His jaw tightened.

"How long until Zayan wakes up?" he asked, voice cold.

"A few hours," the medic replied. "The toxin wasn't lethal, but it was meant to paralyze temporarily. Whoever did this wanted him down, not dead."

Veer's eyes darkened. "Then they don't know us well enough."

---

Zayan Wakes Up

The clock ticked past 3 AM when Zayan's fingers finally twitched.

A groggy groan escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering open. The second he registered his surroundings, his head snapped toward Karan.

"You tracking them?"

"Already on it," Karan muttered, fingers flying over his keyboard. "And before you ask, no cameras caught them. Pro move."

Zayan sat up, rubbing his temples. "Who the hell uses a dart? That's some old-school assassin shit."

"Someone who doesn't want a body," Rudra said. "They wanted you out, not dead. And they left something behind."

He tossed a small, black card onto the table. A single emblem was embossed on it—an intricate design of a chess knight.

Zayan narrowed his eyes. "The hell is this?"

Veer finally spoke, his voice calm but edged with something sharp.

"A calling card."

Silence.

Then—

Karan exhaled. "Damn. That's bold."

"Who do we know that plays games like this?" Rudra asked.

Veer set his glass down with a quiet clink. "No one who's still breathing."

Zayan swung his legs off the couch. "Then we find out who's sending these messages." He rolled his shoulders, ignoring the lingering weakness in his limbs. "And we send one back."

Veer gave him a long look, then nodded.

"Get ready," he said. "We're going hunting."