When Death knocks.

[⚠️ Content Warning-: This chapter contains violent scenes that may not be suitable for all readers.]

In a spacious office room, draped in an air of tension and filled with sleek, expensive furniture. Mr. Mekham sat at his desk, his body leaning forward in a posture of restless anticipation. He was the owner of that town-side land.

Beside him stood his assistant, visibly stressed, his brows furrowed with worry. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, concern evident. "Sir… you already fixed the meeting with Mr. Singh. Is it okay to offer the land to Mr. Rawat now? D-Don't you think it's risky... to mess with them both?"

Mr. Mekham leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with an avid intensity as he spoke, "Offering this land is a no-brainer, I finally got a chance to get whatever I want."

A wolfish smile curling at the corners of his lips.

His assistant hesitated, knowing full well the risks of crossing someone like Mr. Singh, yet struggling to voice his growing concern. "But sir..."

Before the assistant could say further, the door creaked open, and a group of men in sharp black formal suits entered. They stood silently to the side, exuding an air of authority that seemed to fill the room with tension.

Mr. Mekham's eyes widened in surprise, his face betraying a mix of shock and confusion as he stared at the intruders.

His assistant, equally bewildered, quickly recovered his composure and asked in a blank, neutral tone, "Who are you? How did you all enter without permission ?"

However, The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the other side of the door, growing louder with each passing second when Aarav and Abhi entered together, their presence commanding attention. Their faces etched with inclement emotions that added a weight to the already charged atmosphere.

On the other hand, Mr. Mekham's gaze flickered toward them, his expression souring as he took in the sight. He studied them for a moment, clearly displeased, before speaking in a tone laced with irritation. "I expected Mr. Rawat to come, Not his kids."

The two of them advanced on the desk like a pair of hunting lions, their movements fluid and purposeful. Not a word passed between them, and settled into the chairs opposite him, their gazes fixed.

Aarav leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but carrying an edge that sliced through the stillness like a blade., "We're old enough to handle this. So, Mr. Mekham, cut to the chase. What's the deal ?" he said, his tone smooth yet laden with an unspoken warning.

Mr. Mekham's face shifted, a sly grin curled across his lips, sharp and calculated. "You should call me 'Sir'… and the deal's simple. I want a slice of the mining profits." His smirk deepened. "That's not much for your father, is it?"

Abhi's glare darkened. His breath caught with fury, eyes burning with a storm barely held in place.

Aarav, seated beside him, looked no less enraged. His fists clenched, his jaw tightened, but he forced himself to reign in the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. "Watch your words Mr.Mekham."

Mr. Mekham's grin widened, dripping with sarcasm as lacing his fingers together, "Relax... If you don't want to accept this deal, then fine..." he said, his tone smooth but cutting. "Mr. Singh has always been a generous man. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to offer me his shares or perhaps even more."

He paused, his eyes gleamed with malice as he added, "And after all, losing to him is hardly a novel experience for your family, right?"

Hearing this, Aarav and Abhi exchanged a glance, their sharp expressions speaking volumes. It was as if a silent conversation passed between them, their eyes locking in perfect understanding.

And then, like a blur, Abhi pushed his chair back and stood up, he inhaled deeply, steadying himself, then stepped toward Mr. Mekham with a calm, disarming smile. Yet in his eyes, there was a dangerous glint a flicker of fire that promised anything but peace.

Mr. Mekham observed them with an ambiguous expression, his calculating gaze flicking between the two.

While, Aarav, still seated, let out a faint simper, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

Their next move shrouded in uncertainty.

Without warning, Abhi's hand shot out, seizing Mr. Mekham's hair in an iron grip. With a swift, calculated motion, he drove Mr. Mekham's head forcefully against his own knee, the impact echoing like a clap of thunder in the tense room.

It all happened in a blur-so fast that Mr. Mekham didn't have a chance to defend himself. He let out a pained groan, clutching his head with both hands as he hunched over. A deep reddish mark swelled on his forehead, angry and raw, the skin already beginning to bloat.

Across the room, his assistant staggered backward, his eyes wide with terror. His trembling hands reached instinctively for his phone as he stammered, calling out for security. His eyes darted nervously between Abhi and Aarav, both of whom remained ominously composed, as if the outburst was nothing but a calculated move.

Moments later, four armed security personnel stormed into the room, their weapons poised, their expressions sharp and unyielding.

But before they could take a single step further, a group of subordinates, who had been silently observing from the shadows, moved forward with deliberate precision. They raised their armed hands, a subtle but commanding gesture that froze the securities in their tracks.

Abhi venomously smirked, the corners of his lips curling into a smile so sinister it sent shivers down the spine. Slowly, without a trace of hesitation, he began walking towards the armed security personnel, his steps confident, almost taunting.

The assistant, his voice trembling with fear, requested urgently to Aarav, "Stop him! Or he will be in trouble."

But Aarav remained where he was, lounging comfortably in his chair as though the chaos unfolding around him was merely background noise.

Then, with a slow, unbothered exhale, Aarav finally spoke. "He's a wild lion. One that can't be tamed."

Abhi continued to move forward, his face a twisted mask of menace, every step exuding a chilling confidence.

And despite being armed, the security personnel hesitated, their movements reluctant. Their faces drained of color, as if their veins had constricted and the very blood had abandoned them.

Abhi reached them, stopping just a few inches away. Their hands tremble, yet pointed directly at Abhi's forehead, but their fear held them paralyzed.

Without a word, Abhi turned, extending his hand towards one of his men.

The subordinate closest to him, handed the weapon over, his movements precise and respectful, as if surrendering to an inevitable fate.

Abhi took the weapon with unnerving calm, his grip firm and steady, like a predator preparing to strike. With calculated precision, Abhi aimed it at Mr. Mekham's forehead. He looked like a harbinger of death itself, a living executioner with an ax in hand.

Mr. Mekham, frozen in terror, shut his eyes tight, his heart pounding in his chest as a wave of cold dread washed over him.

And suddenly a deafening sound of the gunshot shattered the silence.

When Mr. Mekham finally dared to open his eyes. His body was still alive, his heart still beating, but he felt a chilling presence lingering in the air. The bullet had passed by so close to his ear, the sensation of it, so near yet so narrowly missing, sent a jolt through his very soul.

Abhi, standing in front of him, wore the same menacing, demonic expression, unbothered, unfazed. He looked almost amused by the terror he had just evoked. "Oops! My bad... I won't disappoint you next time ... SIR! "

Mr. Mekham, trembling in fear, could no longer bear the suffocating tension in the room. His pride shattered, he ordered his men to lower their weapons. With a voice strained by desperation, he pleaded for mercy, his words laced with excruciating fear.

Abhi handed the weapon back to his subordinate with a slight, contented nod.

Aarav's eyes shifted back to Mr. Mekham, his expression serene, almost indifferent. Without a word, Aarav placed the land contract paper on the table before him. His voice, calm and firm, cut through the stillness. "Sign it."

No one dared breathe. The message was loud and clear — this wasn't a negotiation.

Mr. Mekham's eyes darted between the paper and Aarav's unblinking gaze. The weight of the moment hung over him, and without a second thought, he signed the document, his hand shaking as he sealed his fate.

Once the signature was done, Aarav stood, taking the papers in hand, his movements smooth and deliberate. He walked toward the door where Abhi and their men stood, the menacing aura of the room still lingering.

Then, the group turned to walked out, leaving the room in a tense, deathly quiet.

Mr. Mekham and his companions watched them go, their eyes filled with a mixture of relief and lingering fear. The tension seemed to ebb, replaced by a fragile sense of safety.

However, that brief moment of peace shattered when Abhi suddenly turned back, his face now twisted into a malefic grin.

With chilling calmness, Abhi fixed his gaze on Mr. Mekham, his words dripping with venom. "Oh... please tell Mr. Singh for me that we aren't as kind as our father."

A warning so dark it felt like a curse.

Before Mr. Mekham could react, Abhi turned on his heel and walked back toward the door.

The room seemed to grow colder, the oppressive weight of Abhi's words sinking deep into the hearts of those who remained.

[ Time gap ]

The heavy, dark wooden door of the dimly lit room creaked open, revealing Mr. Anurag Singh, a man in his middle years, impeccably dressed in a plush formal suit. A ruthless yet disciplined businessman—cold and calculating. He valued efficiency over emotion, crushing competition with precision and unwavering control.

The room seemed to shrink around him as he moved with purposeful steps, his presence commanding the air.

Another man, of similar age, followed closely behind, his movements measured and deliberate.

Mr. Singh sank into the sofa at the center of the room, its plush cushions sinking beneath his weight.

Across from them, in stark contrast to the imposing figures, sat Mr. Mekham. They were perched on a second sofa, positioned far apart from the two newcomers.

As Mr. Mekham laid eyes on the man before him, his body seemed to collapse under the weight of fear. Without a second thought, he dropped to his knees, his trembling hands reaching out toward the man's feet in desperate supplication.

His voice cracked with a genuine terror, as he pleaded, "Mr. Singh, please forgive me. I wanted to sign the deal with you, only with you, but those kids... I was scared. But I promise, I won't let you down next time."

Mr. Singh regarded him with eyes cold as ice, his expression unreadable but heavy with dark, frigid emotions. He listened to the plea with an almost imperceptible nod before responding in a low, unwavering tone, "Absolutely, you won't."

Then, without any further hesitation, he extended a hand toward the man standing silently by his side. The man, understanding the silent command, swiftly passed him a weapon.

As soon as the weapon was in Mr. Singh's hand, he brought it up with precise, deliberate motion.

The cold metal of the barrel pressed firmly against Mr. Mekham's forehead, the threat undeniable. The room, already thick with tension, seemed to freeze in that moment, sending a tremor through his body.

BANG—

And after a deafening sound echoed through the room, a suffocating silence followed.

Mr. Mekham collapsed to the floor, his body crumpling as if the very life had drained from him in an instant.

Mr. Mekham's eyes fluttered, the light in them fading as they closed for the final time. The once-urgent sounds of his breath ceased, and the room, once filled with frantic energy, now stood still, consumed by an eerie, inescapable quiet.

The piercing roar of Mr. Singh's voice shattered the oppressive silence, as he turned to the man standing behind him. "Raj," Mr. Singh commanded, his tone unwavering, "Call Arun and ask him to handle the deal, and cover it up."

Mr. Raj, standing motionless in the shadow of the room, nodded quickly, "Yes, Master."

His repentant expression a stark contrast to the cold precision of Mr. Singh.

Without a word, he stepped back, reaching for his phone, knowing that the business would proceed, as grim and unforgiving as ever.