Through the Smoke and Seized Steel

The clatter of evidence being logged echoed through the underground evidence chamber of HQ, dimly lit with yellow lights and filled with the raw scent of gunpowder and steel. The seized smuggling trucks were now parked inside the perimeter of the central forensic yard — their backs wide open, revealing an arsenal that could equip a war zone.

Kiaan Verma, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled, stood at the center with cold focus. The adrenaline hadn't worn off since the late-night bust. He held the smuggling case file in one hand while flipping through recovered receipts, fake manifests, and incomplete shipment codes with the other.

His voice was quiet, but there was a razor edge to it when he spoke.

> "They weren't even trying to hide it this time. Look at the crate stamps — scratched off lazily, same serial format as the Montenegro consignment from last year. They wanted us to find this."

From the side, Tara, fingers flying over her laptop, chimed in sharply, "I've been scanning coordinates from the GPS chips we pulled from the drivers' phones. One led to an abandoned airstrip near the Dover outskirts. It's not on any official maps — and guess what? Surveillance black zone. No satellite feed for the last 18 hours."

Dev, standing beside the massive truck, was bent over a list. His brow furrowed deeply as he read aloud, "Handguns. Tactical gear. Military-grade explosives. Chemical vials — unmarked. This isn't street-level dealing anymore. These are war supplies."

Rehaan, wiping grease off his gloves after helping with crate unloading, tossed a bloodied rag into a bin. "And three of the drivers are already dead from cyanide capsules. They didn't speak. They didn't try. Just bit down and dropped."

Kiaan's jaw tensed.

> "Because they knew we'd reach them. That means someone let them reach us."

Tara glanced up from her screen. "You think it was a setup?"

Kiaan nodded slowly, his eyes darkening.

> "No. It was a test. A breadcrumb trail."

He slammed the file shut, startling a junior officer nearby.

> "He's watching us. Rex is pulling strings not to stay hidden — but to see how far we'll go."

The room stilled for a second. It wasn't just another mission now. This was a silent war being played on a battlefield of shadows.

Dev leaned in, whispering under his breath, "Kiaan, if he's testing you, then that means he sees you as…"

> "As worthy prey," Kiaan finished bitterly. "But we'll be the ones setting the trap next."

Suddenly, a beep echoed from Tara's system.

She jerked up. "New signal pinged from the abandoned airstrip. Short frequency burst—encrypted. Less than five seconds."

Kiaan's eyes snapped to hers.

> "Trace it. I don't care if it's a ghost. I want coordinates. I want movement logs. I want to know if a bird flapped its wings there."

Rehaan chuckled grimly. "There goes our sleep again."

Kiaan turned toward him with a hint of a smirk.

> "Then we make sure they don't sleep either."

Outside, the skies were beginning to turn crimson with the first light of dawn — but inside the HQ, a storm was already brewing, powered not by the fear of the predator... but by the fury of the prey who refused to be hunted quietly.