The Bargain in Blood

Scene: Noir Haven – Blood on the Floor, Silence in the Air

Ten agents. Kneeling. Weapons trained on their heads.

The air inside Noir Haven was no longer breathable—it was heavy with sweat, blood, and dread. Shattered chandeliers glistened under dim, flickering lights. The silence was deafening now, broken only by the distant groans of the injured and the soft drip-drip of blood falling onto the marble.

Kiaan's gaze snapped to the right.

Tara was clutching her left hand tightly, blood oozing through her fingers like a stream refusing to be contained. Her face was pale, her breath shallow. The wound was deeper than it looked.

Kiaan's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

> "She's bleeding. That's not a scratch. That's a damn artery. She needs treatment. Now."

The man standing before them, bald-headed and bulked like a bulldozer, sneered.

> "You think we care, agent boy?" he hissed mockingly. "You came into our den. You don't get to make demands."

Kiaan's jaw clenched, but his voice stayed composed—dangerously calm.

> "I'm not asking for her release. Treat her here. Or you'll be mopping her blood off this floor... right before you mop mine."

A moment of tense silence followed. The man hesitated.

Then, his phone rang.

Everyone flinched, as if the ringtone was the arrival of death itself.

The man looked at the screen. His face changed.

The name "REX" lit up.

He answered without a word. And then, he turned—slowly—towards Kiaan.

> "He wants to talk to you."

Kiaan took the phone, ignoring the blood on his own hands as he held it to his ear.

The voice on the other end was silk and steel.

> "Still trying to protect your people, Kiaan?"

Kiaan didn't blink.

> "Let her go. She's injured. This wasn't part of your little show."

> "Oh, I assure you, everything was part of the show," Rex said, amused. "But I am... generous. I'll let her get treated. I'll even let all of you walk out alive. But…"

The pause was long. Too long.

> "You. Come to me. Alone. Silent. No devices. No tricks."

Kiaan didn't speak.

> "Tick-tock, agent," Rex whispered. "The longer you hesitate, the more blood she loses. How much is one agent worth to you? Or perhaps... how much are you willing to trade for the lives of everyone in this room?"

Dev looked at Kiaan from the floor, silently shaking his head.

Rehaan muttered, "Don't even think about it."

Tara barely managed to breathe, "No, Kiaan… please don't."

But Kiaan had already made his choice.

He raised his head, staring directly into the eyes of the enemy soldier holding the phone.

> "Tell Rex…"

"I'm coming."

Everyone froze.

Rex's voice came back, smooth and wicked:

> "Ah, the little agent learns to kneel not just in body... but in will. I'll be waiting, Kiaan Verma."

The line went dead.

The bargain had been struck—in blood, in silence, and in sacrifice.

And as the guards began patching Tara's hand and preparing the exit, Kiaan remained still.

Kneeling. But unbroken.

His war had just changed shape.

This wasn't about missions anymore.

This was personal.