CHAPTER 15: Wolf Going to the Lion’s Den

In Ryan's sleek, dimly lit office, the Deson leadership gathered around the strategy table. Maps of the East Zone flickered on the monitors—every inch of the zone was under tight lockdown. Security posts at public transport hubs, roving patrols, and encrypted communication lines. To get in, they needed more than muscle—they needed a plan.

Mani turned to Surya and asked, "I forgot to ask—what happened to the mercenaries Michael hired?"

Surya leaned back, voice calm but firm. "If the hirer is dead and the money's gone, they've likely disbanded and vanished."

Mani let out a quiet breath of relief, but Ryan's voice cut through the room.

"Mani, you'll head to the East Zone tomorrow," he said coldly. "You'll be the new overseer. I need trusted people in key positions. Prepare yourself."

Mani nodded silently. Then Surya stepped forward, eyes sharp.

"Sir," he said, "I just need a free pass to the bar. That man, Arjun—the one who moves in and out of the East Zone regularly—I'll handle him myself."

Ryan looked at Surya, the fire in the young man's eyes stirring something long dormant in him. It reminded him of the raw ambition he once carried in his youth.

He gave a slow, approving nod.

Surya turned and walked out of the room, his mind already moving ten steps ahead. He headed straight to the fighting pits, where the air reeked of sweat, blood, and bruised egos.

Waiting for him there was Kamaal—tall, broad-shouldered, arms folded, a smug grin on his face. The moment he saw Surya and Jey, his expression twisted into disdain.

"Well, well… the South Zone puppies finally showed up.You two seriously think you belong here?"

Surya said nothing.

Jey took a step forward—but Kamaal struck first, launching a hard kick straight into Jey's gut. Jey collapsed to his knees, gasping.

Kamaal laughed. "Pathetic. This is what your zone calls warriors?"

Surya's fists clenched. His heart pounded like war drums. Then, without a word, he lunged forward and slammed a brutal punch into Kamaal's jaw. The impact echoed through the pit as Kamaal's body hit the ground, blood trickling from his lip.

Surya stood over him, eyes blazing.

"Mock us again," he growled. "Next time, you won't get up."

As he walked away, the crowd in the pit parted, stepping aside like prey before a predator. They had seen something terrifying. Ryan and Mani had watched it unfold from above.

Ryan smiled slightly, then turned and walked back to his office.

That night, Surya and Jey returned to their hotel. But while Jey slept, Surya was plagued by nightmares. Just before dawn, he slipped out and made his way back to the fighting pit.

There, in the pale light, Ryan was already in the center of the ring—shirtless, sweating. Surya froze when he saw the scars running across Ryan's back. Old wounds. Deep ones. But as Ryan turned, his front was flawless—no marks at all.

The contradiction rattled Surya.

Ryan noticed him and spoke, voice calm. "Oh, Surya… you're early. Come inside. Let's spar. I want to see how strong you really are."

Without hesitation, Surya stepped in and removed his shirt. This wasn't just training—it was personal.

As soon as he raised his guard, Ryan launched forward. A crushing punch to the ribs sent Surya staggering, the wind knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Ryan struck again—this time a brutal blow to the jaw, then a shoulder slam that brought Surya to one knee.

Ryan was faster, sharper, relentless.

Every strike felt like it carried the weight of decades—rage buried under years of power.

But Surya couldn't fall. Not here.

Not now.

This was his last target. The final name. The man who had taken everything.

Blood dripping from his mouth, Surya rose.

"I won't fall," he whispered. "Not until I bring him down."

He charged.

Surya's fists flew like fury unleashed. A hook powered by pain forced Ryan to step back for the first time. They exchanged blows like beasts—brutal, unyielding.

Ryan landed a knee to the gut; Surya nearly folded but countered with a spinning backfist that caught Ryan across the cheek. Blood sprayed.

The noise of fists and flesh echoed off concrete walls.

Trainers and fighters began to gather at the edges of the pit, drawn by the clash. No one dared speak.

Mani folded his arms at the back of the crowd. Jey stood at the front, fists clenched, eyes locked on his friend.

Inside the ring, both men were panting, knuckles torn, muscles twitching. But neither backed down.

Ryan roared and surged forward—jab, elbow, elbow—hammering Surya until he staggered.

But Surya caught him.

With a scream that shook the pit, he lifted Ryan by the waist and slammed him into the ground. Dust exploded. Ryan rolled away and got to his feet.

Their eyes locked.

Pain. Respect. Rage. Understanding.

Then, together—they charged.

Final blows landed—both men hit each other clean across the jaw.

And both collapsed to one knee.

The pit was dead silent.

Until a whisper echoed.

"…He's not just strong."

Then louder.

"WOLF."

Another voice joined. Then another.

"WOLF! WOLF! WOLF!"

The chant grew until the entire pit shook.

Surya stood slowly. Blood dripped from his mouth. His body screamed in pain. But his eyes—his eyes burned brighter than ever.

He hadn't won.

But he had proved it:

He wasn't just a fighter.

He was the Wolf.

After the fight was over, Ryan stood up and walked toward Surya. His eyes locked with Surya's as he said,

"Well done. Freshen up and come to my office."

Ryan turned and headed toward his office. As Surya stepped out of the pit, the crowd erupted—lifting Surya up and chanting,

"The Wolf! The Wolf!"

The entire North Zone now knew the legend of the Wolf from the South. And after what they had witnessed, they respected him.

Kamaal stepped forward, extended his hand to Surya, and shook it firmly.

"No one here dares to even stand beside Ryan. When our boss entered the pit, his very presence made us back off. But you—" Kamaal paused, a trace of awe in his voice—

"You stood your ground and fought him head-on. Now I understand why our boss brought you here.

Welcome to the North Zone, Surya. You've earned this."

Jey, standing nearby, couldn't stop grinning. His smile widened, pride gleaming in his eyes.

Surya gave Kamaal a respectful nod and walked off to clean up. But instead of heading straight to the showers, Surya stormed into the locker room, fury still burning inside him.

With a roar, Surya slammed his fist into the wall—a loud crack echoed as the plaster gave way, leaving a hole behind.

His mind raced.

Surya couldn't beat Ryan.

Not yet.

As blood trickled from his knuckles, he stared at the damage and whispered to himself,

"He's stronger than I thought... but this isn't over."

After freshening up, Surya stepped into Ryan's office.

The air was already heavy. Ryan and Mani stood by the table, their eyes cold and calculating. Jey followed silently, tension clinging to him like a second skin.

The moment they entered, there was no greeting, no small talk. Just silence—and then strategy.

Mani paced the room, muttering to himself, eyes darting with restless worry.

"How the hell will Surya enter without getting caught?" he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

Everyone in the East Zone moved like shadows—silent, precise, deadly.

Without a word, Ryan reached into his suit and pulled out a stack of photographs. He slammed them onto the table.

"These," he said, voice low and sharp, "are from the East Zone. Every member wears a standard uniform. That's how they identify their own."

Surya's gaze locked on the photos. His eyes narrowed.

"Perfect," he muttered. "We'll strike during the checkpoint. When the train halts and the guards board—we kill, we strip, we blend in."

Ryan's lips curled into a satisfied smirk. He nodded. "Exactly."

Jey, still trying to keep up, asked nervously, "Sir… how did you even get those photos?"

Ryan's eyes flicked to him—stone cold. "You don't need to know. Focus on your job."

He turned back to Surya and Mani. His tone darkened.

"Mani—you're heading to the West Zone. Surya… Jey… your target is Arjun. Fail, and I'll make sure you never see daylight again. That zone controls the ports. It's everything. If we lose it—our entire empire crumbles."

Both men nodded. Orders were clear.

The train to the East Zone roared beneath them, but inside the compartment, time felt still.

Jey was rambling about how to get the uniforms—strategies, distractions, possible ambush points. But Surya wasn't listening. He stared blankly out the window.

And then… he saw it.

The endless ocean.

Blue. Calm. Dangerous.

Sunlight danced across the waves like flames, and suddenly—he was a child again.

A voice echoed in his memory.

His mother's voice.

"One day, I'll take you there, Surya. That place is beautiful. My favorite in the world."

But that promise had never been kept.

He remembered her last smile… her fading voice… the broken lips… and then—darkness.

That memory, buried deep within, cracked open like a scar.

His fists clenched.

No more hesitation.

As the train screeched to a stop at the East Zone border, two guards in grey uniforms stepped in. Their eyes scanned everything. Their steps were trained and methodical.

Surya grabbed Jey and whispered, "Follow me."

They slipped into the washroom just seconds before the guards reached their row.

Footsteps approached. One guard moved toward the washroom.

Surya waited—silent. Still.

Click.

The door creaked open.

In a blink, Surya yanked the man inside, slammed the door shut, and plunged his crescent blade into his throat with surgical precision. Blood sprayed. The body slumped.

No hesitation. No emotion.

Surya tore off the man's uniform and changed into it swiftly.

He stepped out. Cold. Focused.

Jey was waiting. "Someone's coming," he whispered.

Another guard.

Surya vanished into the shadows.

As the second guard opened the door, Jey played innocent.

From behind—bam!

A savage kick to the spine.

Before the man could scream, Surya drove his knife deep into the side of his neck. He crumpled.

"Change into his uniform," Surya ordered Jey.

Blood still dripping from his hands, Jey obeyed. Trembling.

They walked out, side by side—ghosts in borrowed skin.

They had entered the East Zone.

Surya's eyes were no longer calm.

They were burning.

He moved like a predator—shoulders tight, steps measured, breath silent.

This wasn't just a mission.

This was personal.

He clenched his fists, the ocean's memory still burning behind his eyes.

The lion ruled this land. But now… the wolf had entered the den.

And the hunt had begun.