Chapter 14: The Meeting with Vikram (4)

Vikram reached into his jacket and pulled out a stack of papers, the crisp edges catching the dim light of the flickering bulb overhead. He slid them across the table toward Ramesh, the sound of paper scraping against wood echoing in the small, suffocating room. The documents looked official, stamped with Kancha's insignia—a coiled serpent encircling a lotus, a symbol of power and danger. Ramesh stared at them, his stomach churning as if he were about to sign away his soul.

"Sign here," Vikram said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He tapped a finger on the dotted line at the bottom of the page, his gold ring glinting ominously. The ring bore the same serpent-and-lotus emblem, a constant reminder of who he represented.

Ramesh picked up the pen, his hand trembling as he scanned the document. The words blurred together at first, a sea of legal jargon and fine print, but one phrase stood out like a knife to the gut: In the event of default, the borrower agrees to surrender all collateral, including but not limited to property, assets, and dependents. His breath hitched, and he felt the room spin around him. Dependents. They meant Chameli.

He hesitated, the pen hovering over the paper. For a moment, he considered walking away, leaving the room and never looking back. But then he thought of Chameli, of the life she deserved, and he knew he couldn't give up. Not yet.

"Is there… another way?" Ramesh asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked up at Vikram, his eyes pleading. "Anything but this."

Vikram's expression didn't change. He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face like a shroud. "You're in no position to negotiate, Deshmukh," he said, his voice cold and final. "Sign the papers, or walk away. But if you walk, don't expect to see another sunrise."

Ramesh's chest tightened, the weight of Vikram's words pressing down on him like a stone. He glanced at the door, half-expecting to see one of Kancha's men standing there, blocking his escape. But the doorway was empty, a dark void that offered no comfort.

He looked back at the document, his eyes tracing the lines of text again. The interest rates were astronomical, the penalties for late payments draconian. It was a deal designed to trap him, to ensure he would never be free of Kancha's grip. But what choice did he have? If he didn't sign, they would come for him—and for Chameli—anyway.

"If I do this," Ramesh said, his voice trembling, "you have to promise me one thing."

Vikram raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "You're not exactly in a position to make demands."

"Promise me," Ramesh insisted, his voice firmer now, "that if I succeed, if I pay back the loan with interest, you'll leave us alone. No more threats. No more demands."

Vikram leaned back in his chair, studying Ramesh with a calculating gaze. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching between them like a taut wire. Then he nodded, a slow, deliberate motion. "Fine," he said. "You pay us back, and we're done. But if you fail…" He let the sentence hang in the air, the unspoken threat louder than any words.

Ramesh swallowed hard, his throat dry. He knew what failure would mean. He had seen what happened to those who crossed Kancha—broken men, ruined families, lives snuffed out like candles in the wind. But he had to believe that this time, he would succeed. He had to.

With a shaky hand, he signed his name, the ink bleeding into the paper like a stain. The pen felt heavy in his hand, as if it were made of lead. When he was done, he set it down and pushed the papers back across the table, his fingers lingering on the edge for a moment before he let go.

Vikram took the document, folding it neatly and tucking it into his jacket. "Pleasure doing business with you, Deshmukh," he said, his tone mocking. He stood, his chair scraping against the floor, and adjusted his jacket. "Don't make us regret this."

Ramesh didn't respond. He sat there, staring at the empty chair across from him, as Vikram and his men left the room. The sound of their footsteps faded into the distance, leaving him alone with the weight of what he had just done.