Chapter 21: The Second Visit

The second time Vikram showed up at Ramesh's apartment, it was late at night. The air was heavy with the scent of rain, and the dim glow of a streetlamp outside cast long shadows across the room.

Ramesh was sitting in the living room, a glass of cheap whiskey in his hand, staring blankly at the peeling walls. The weight of his debts, his failures, and his desperation sat heavy on his shoulders.

The knock at the door was soft but insistent. A cold dread coiled in his gut. He already knew who it was. He took a slow, deep breath before pushing himself up from the chair, his legs shaky as if they already knew he had lost this fight before it even began.

He opened the door, and there stood Vikram, flanked by two of his men. Their presence alone was enough to make Ramesh's blood run cold. Vikram wasn't just a debt collector; he was a predator who toyed with his prey, and Ramesh knew he was caught in the trap.

"Time's up, Deshmukh," Vikram said, his voice cold and clipped. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his men following close behind. The space felt smaller with them in it, the air thick with something more suffocating than the humidity outside.

"You owe us. And we always collect."

Ramesh's mind raced. He had one last card to play, one last desperate gamble. But it would cost him everything. "Wait," he said, his voice trembling but firm. "I have something more valuable than money. More valuable than the information I've given you so far."

Vikram raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Ramesh took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he spoke. "My organs," he said, his voice low but steady. "Take them. Sell them. Do whatever you want with them. Just leave my daughter alone."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Vikram burst out laughing, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the small apartment. His men joined in, their laughter filling the room.

"Your organs?" Vikram said, wiping tears from his eyes. "You're joking, right?"

But Ramesh didn't laugh. He stood there, his eyes wild but focused, his breathing ragged. "I'm not joking," he said, his voice rising. "Take my kidneys, my liver, my heart—whatever you need. Just leave her out of this."

Vikram's laughter died abruptly, replaced by a look of cold fury. He stepped closer to Ramesh, his face inches away. "You think you can buy your way out of this with your body?" he snarled. "You think we're that desperate?"

Then his expression changed, twisting into something far more sinister. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Normally, I'd take your offer, Deshmukh. You know how much a healthy liver goes for? A kidney? Your heart?" He scoffed. "But I'm making an exception for you."

His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "Because your daughter… now, she's something else. Beauty like hers doesn't get chopped up and sold in parts. No, no." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "She's a diamond in the rough. And with the right training, she could shine."

Ramesh's breath hitched. "Training?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vikram grinned, baring his teeth like a predator. "Oh, you know exactly what I mean." He leaned in, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should be grateful, really. I was tempted to take her tonight. To break her in myself. But I'm not a savage, Deshmukh. A girl like that? She deserves a proper teacher."

He let the words hang in the air before adding, almost thoughtfully, "A woman, of course. A real professional. Someone who can mold her, show her the… finer points of her new life. And when she's ready, when she's learned exactly how to please—" He chuckled darkly. "Well, then, I'll have my turn."

Ramesh let out a strangled cry, his face contorted in pure agony. "You monster!" he choked out, his voice thick with sorrow and fury. Tears welled in his eyes, but Vikram only laughed, the amusement in his expression making it clear he relished every ounce of Ramesh's pain.

Then, without warning, Vikram spat at him, the glob landing just shy of his cheek. "You're pathetic," he sneered before driving his boot into Ramesh's ribs with brutal force. A sharp, sickening crack filled the room as Ramesh crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath. The first kick was only the beginning.

His men followed Vikram's lead, their boots slamming into his sides, his back, his legs. Each blow sent fresh waves of pain crashing through his body, but none of them touched his face. Vikram made sure of that.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Vikram held up a hand, and the assault ceased. He crouched down beside Ramesh, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up until their faces were level. Blood dribbled from Ramesh's lips, his vision swimming, but he forced himself to meet Vikram's gaze.

"You're lucky," Vikram murmured, his voice almost gentle. "We left your face intact. You know why?" He gave Ramesh a rough shake before answering his own question. "Because you need to be presentable when you bring her to me."

He let go, letting Ramesh collapse back onto the floor. Straightening up, he dusted off his jacket and glanced down at him with mock pity. "If you don't bring her," he said, his voice laced with quiet menace, "I'll come personally to fetch her." He smiled, slow and deliberate. "And trust me, Deshmukh. You don't want that."

With that, Vikram turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his men trailing behind him. The sound of their footsteps faded into the night, leaving behind only silence.

Ramesh lay there, his body broken, his spirit shattered. He had gambled everything, and he had lost.