#09 : SNAKES NEVER STRIKE ALONE

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UNKNOWN LOCATION – SAFEHOUSE

03:47 HRS

Vijay hadn't said a word.

Not since we dragged him out of that hell.

Not during the drive.

Not when Meena stitched him up.

Not even when Danny told him he nearly blew Raaka in half.

He just stared at the floor.

Like he was still there.

Still in the warehouse.

Still chained up like a goddamn dog.

---

I leaned against the wall, watching him.

Yash sat nearby, arms crossed, the knuckles of his right hand still bleeding from the fight.

Danny was asleep at the corner, head resting on a duffel bag of spare ammo and tools.

Meena was back in the hideout bunker, scanning comms, rerouting traffic so we wouldn't be traced.

But here, in this forgotten old textile unit on the outskirts of Sion, it was just us.

Just the broken ones.

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"You remember anything?" I asked.

Vijay blinked. Slowly. Then nodded.

"His voice," he said, barely a whisper.

"Raaka. He talked the entire time."

"What'd he say?"

Vijay looked up at me.

Eyes hollow. Empty.

"That I was a dog playing at war."

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I didn't respond.

Because Raaka wasn't wrong.

Vijay had gone in blind.

He had let his grief cloud his instincts.

And it had nearly gotten him killed.

But saying it out loud would've meant breaking him even more.

So instead, I said the only thing that mattered right now.

"You're not dead, man. That means you still matter."

---

Meena's voice crackled through the comm on the shelf.

"Raaka survived. He's gone off-grid since the explosion, but… we're intercepting chatter."

I moved to the table and turned the dial up.

"Talk to me."

"We thought that warehouse was their base. It wasn't."

A silence.

"What do you mean 'wasn't'?"

"That compound was a trap, Amit. Rigged to explode from the start. Raaka wanted us to come. It was a containment zone."

My stomach turned.

"And here's the worst part—" she continued. "All the data I pulled from their logistics doesn't point to Raaka being the central figure."

I frowned. "He's the executive."

"He's an executive," she corrected. "Of the third affiliate. The smallest one."

That word hit harder than a bullet.

Smallest.

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I looked at Vijay.

He met my eyes.

We both knew what that meant.

Raaka wasn't the main event.

He was just the opening act.

---

Meena continued, voice colder now.

"There are two more affiliates. Bigger. Smarter. One's rumored to have corporate fronts running across Thane. The other… there's barely any intel. No names. No photos. Just rumors of a mysterious woman who leads it."

---

"The Serpents aren't just a gang," Yash muttered. "They're an ecosystem."

I didn't say anything.

Because all I could see in my mind was Raaka's smile—right before he hit that detonator.

This was war.

And we were still treating it like a street fight.

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MEANWHILE – UNKNOWN LOCATION

SERPENTS' SECOND AFFILIATE BASE

Raaka sat on a leather chair, bandaged and grinning.

A man approached him—sharp suit, darker eyes.

"They escaped," the man said.

"I know," Raaka replied.

"You let them."

"I did."

The man raised a brow. "And you think the other Executives will be pleased?"

Raaka smirked.

"I don't care if they're pleased. I care that the game started on my terms."

He tossed a flash drive on the table.

"They came for blood. I gave them bait."

On the screen behind him: images flickered.

Photos of Crimson Fangs. Faces. Names. Hideout locations.

Every file tagged and tracked.

Raaka sipped from his tea.

"I learned more about them in one night than they've learned about us in months."

He leaned back.

"Now... we bleed them slowly."

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BACK AT THE SAFEHOUSE

Vijay finally stood.

His knees trembled. His back was still injured.

"They'll keep coming," he said.

"They know who we are now."

I nodded. "Then we don't wait."

Yash looked at me. "What's the plan?"

I looked at Danny.

He blinked. "What?"

"You're building us a mobile ops van. Tactical. Fast. Bulletproof."

"I… I don't have the gear—"

"You'll figure it out."

Then I turned to Vijay.

"You're not going solo anymore."

"And you?" he asked.

I exhaled.

"We take the fight to Affiliate Two next."

---

As I said it, Meena's voice cut in once more.

Urgent.

"Amit. You need to see this."

The monitor buzzed. A CCTV camera feed flickered.

It was footage of one of our supply runners—strung up on a highway billboard near Andheri.

Slashed open.

Bleeding onto a tarp.

A white serpent symbol painted in blood.

And below it, scrawled in Hindi:

"This is just the beginning."

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TO BE CONTINUED

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