#06 : ASHES IN THE VEINS

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The rain had returned.

Not like a storm—more like a slow drip. Like the city was bleeding from old wounds that never healed.

I was at the edge of the hideout's back alley, lighting a cigarette I wouldn't smoke, when I heard boots crunch gravel behind me.

"Still playing detective, Amit?" a familiar voice said.

I turned.

Daniel De Costa.

Or, as I call him—Danny.

He looked the same: crooked grin, hoodie half-zipped, gold chain peeking through like it had a story of its own. He always moved like a man who didn't care about consequences—because he'd already lived through worse.

"I hear you're playing with ghosts now," he said, leaning beside me. "Serpents, right?"

I nodded. "They're more than just ghosts. They're fanatics."

He raised an eyebrow. "Religious?"

"No. Worse. Believers."

Danny chuckled dryly. "Funny. You used to be one too, remember?"

I smiled. "That was before we saw what belief gets you in this world."

He looked at me, serious now. "You're changing, bro. Your eyes don't blink like they used to. You're watching everything… like you're waiting for it to explode."

I didn't deny it.

Because he wasn't wrong.

---

Back in the intel room, Meena was compiling voice fragments from Serpent communications.

Static. Broken phrases. More of that poetic madness.

"The skin has peeled. The teeth are clean. We are waiting under your bones."

I looked at Meena. "It's like they're reciting scripture."

She frowned. "A cult?"

"Maybe."

Vijay stood in the corner, arms folded, silent as a gravestone. He hadn't spoken much since the last incident. Since that Serpent killed himself.

Danny gave him a nod. "Yo."

Vijay nodded back but didn't respond.

Danny leaned over to me and whispered, "He's slipping. Whatever's eating him, it's deep."

I glanced at Vijay. Eyes sunken. Jaw locked.

But the real crack hadn't come yet.

---

It came at 7:43 p.m.

We were mid-meeting—discussing surveillance cycles and planning infiltration routes.

Yash burst into the room, phone shaking in his hand.

"Vijay—bro… it's your sister."

The world stopped.

Vijay didn't move at first. Just blinked once. Then twice.

"What about her?" he asked. Calm. Too calm.

"She… she was found in Shivajinagar. Alleyway. Stab wounds. Burn marks. No wallet."

Vijay stood up.

"No," he whispered. "No, that's not—no."

He shoved past us. Danny tried to hold him back, but Vijay slammed him against the wall with a strength I didn't know he still had.

Meena's voice trembled. "E..Even her face is unrecognisable because of the burn marks. She was identified by her school uniform and ID Card.

No signs of robbery. They… they branded her."

"What?"

"They carved a serpent into her palm."

Everything in me went cold.

I turned to Vijay.

His hands were shaking. His lips were moving, but no sound came out. His whole body was rejecting the moment—like if he didn't say it out loud, it wouldn't be real.

Then he screamed.

A sound not made for the human throat.

Raw. Primal. Something that belonged to wolves in winter, not men in cities.

He dropped to his knees, fists slamming the concrete. Again. And again.

Danny and I tried to steady him, but he pushed us away.

"She was all I had!" he shouted. "She—she was supposed to be safe! I kept her out of this! I—I kept her out—"

His voice cracked.

And then he broke.

Silent tears. Shoulders shaking. A man whose entire reason to breathe had just been ripped out of his chest.

Meena couldn't even look.

None of us could say a thing.

What could you say to a man who built a kingdom out of blood just to keep one flower safe—only to watch that flower crushed under a boot?

---

He sat there for a while.

Then he stood.

Eyes dead.

Voice flat.

"I'm going."

"Vijay," I said, stepping forward, "don't. Please. Not now. We don't even know if—"

"They did it," he said. "And I'm going to end every single one of them."

He walked toward the weapons locker. Grabbed a shotgun. A blade. A lighter.

Meena blocked his way. "You go in now, you won't come back."

He didn't stop. "I'm not planning to."

Danny stepped in. "You go alone, that's suicide, bro."

"Good," Vijay whispered.

I grabbed his arm. "This isn't what she would've wanted."

He looked at me, and for the first time, I didn't see Vijay.

I saw something hollow inside skin.

"She wanted peace. Books. A life. And they took that from her."

He stepped into the rain, fully armed.

Helmet on. Bike roaring.

The sky cracked open like it felt his grief.

He didn't look back.

Didn't say goodbye.

Just one man, bleeding fire, riding into the serpent's nest.

---

Somewhere in Kurla West, those bastards were waiting.

And Vijay…?

He was done waiting.

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TO BE CONTINUED