21-07-2025, 12:36 AM
(CHAPTER CONTD)
ONE DAY AT YOD INDUSTRIES
The industrial wind howled through the skeletal remains of Mumbai’s old port, sweeping through the vast courtyard of YOD Industries. The clang of metal and hum of automated machinery echoed faintly from within the complex, but in the open lobby, Hemant stood still—rigid, focused, unblinking. His eyes scanned the dusty road outside the main gates, already sensing the presence before the shadows emerged. He rubbed the Archangel ring strung around his neck, a motion as reflexive as breathing now. It wasn't just a relic. It was a tether to what he was… what he had buried for too long.
Dilawar’s convoy rolled in without hesitation. Bikes screeched to a halt, men with iron rods, machetes, and rusted pistols fanned out. Rafique, young and lanky, jumped down beside his elder brother, his eyes glinting with mischief. But Dilawar—dressed in his sharp, but flapping kurta—had no smile. Lust and rage twisted across his face. His obsession with Sonarika had driven him to delusion, and this confrontation was meant to stamp his authority not just over her—but over Hemant’s very existence.
Hemant didn’t flinch. He didn't yell. He didn't reach for any weapon. He simply stared. The light hit his face at an angle, casting sharp lines along his jaw, hardening his expression into something that looked like stone. The Archangel ring shone briefly in the sun, and his lips barely moved, whispering something only the ring might understand in its history. Then came a sound—footsteps. The kind that didn’t belong to panicked workers, but to men who had seen conflict, battle, loss… and had chosen to keep standing.
They came from inside the factory—engineers, machinists, ex-servicemen, even private defense contractors in plain clothes. Some held tools, others slung rifles. All of them flanked Hemant like a wall, quiet and composed. Not thugs. Not killers. But soldiers of steel, loyalty, and resolve. Dilawar’s men shifted uncomfortably. The numbers had turned, and fear crept into their street-bred arrogance.
Dilawar took a step forward anyway, chest puffed out.
"Just because a bunch of muscles now standing behind the back doesn't mean a damn stray cat will turn into a Lion. "
Dilawar growled. Hemant’s voice was calm, his accent clipped with a trace of something foreign, colder.
"I am not an animal Dilawar. And its best for you that I don't become something you'll regret!"
He took one step forward, and in that moment, his presence shifted. It wasn’t theatrics. It was something ancient. Like a slumbering force stretching beneath his skin.
"And this is not a jungle. The rules of the Animal Kingdom isn't upholded here. This is my domain , my kingdom. And it will be your best interest that you walk away when you can!"
For a moment, time froze. The goons looked at each other, unsure whether to charge or flee. Rafique muttered something under his breath, inching back. That was when the roar of approaching engines shattered the standoff. Black SUVs screeched to a halt. The air grew tense as doors flew open and heavily armed men jumped out, each wearing the sharp insignia of RegalCorp. From the lead vehicle emerged Gurmeet Chaddha, imposing in a tailored tied up suit, the unofficial warhound and chief security officer of the Mehta family.
Chaddha’s face was unreadable, his jaw locked. He walked past the stunned goons and came to stand directly between Dilawar and Hemant. His eyes flicked to the gangster with veiled contempt.
"Your boss wants to see you"
Chaddha said, his voice deep and final. His security team raised their weapons slightly—not a threat, but a warning. A leash pulled taut.
Dilawar’s pride cracked visibly. He looked past Chaddha at Hemant, who still hadn’t moved, his gaze a furnace of unrelenting power. For the first time, Dilawar saw not a businessman, not a rival—but something else. Something monstrous in its quiet, principled fury. Something divine and terrifying. He stepped back, his fingers twitching with repressed rage, then turned and walked towards his bike without another word. While they were walking away , another brotherly duo Ranga and Sarang who were part of the gang looked at Hemant with ferocious anger. They felt insulted and this confrontation ignited a flame of vengeance in them. Hoping to get even for this embarassment in the future.
As the convoy pulled away, engines rumbling like defeated dogs, the silence that followed was deafening. Hemant remained still for a moment longer. Then, slowly, his shoulders relaxed. He unclenched his fist, revealing the Garuda ring on his finger, gleaming like a fire-drenched feather in the sun. The storm within him, that ancient flame, dimmed but didn’t die. It never did. It merely waited—for the next time someone needed reminding.
THAT AFTERNOON AT THE CAFE NEAR TANISHQ
The sun was mellow as Sonarika stirred her cappuccino at the corner table of the cafe, a quaint spot near her office that she frequented with Meghna.
"What's the problem now Sonarika?"
"Its Rachika.....her wedding is happening next week and....I've been invited"
"Yeah I was invited too but scheduling conflicts....what's the issue?"
"Its...Vicky....Rachika's wedding is being hosted a Jabalpur....and Vikram is providing stays for the guest in his hotel"
"And?"
"Meghna....its the same place where........where it all began!"
Meghna realized the situation. She remembers , it was this very hotel inauguration night when Sonarika and Vikram crossed the line and got physically involved. A devious smile was inside her as she planned her tactics.
"I know that...what's the issue?"
"Oh you know...ever since the yatch incident , we are having a rough patch. I don't think its wise on myself to be there"
"Why not , you had no fault in that incident. It was Vikram who did the mistake correct?"
"Yes" Sonarika said remembering the made up thing that never happened.
"Then why are you the one cowaring away from him"
Sonarika was deep in her inner turmoil. She was twisting the edge of her saree , contemplating on the dangerous territory she was going to embark on. She was loosing her resolve , slowly and steadily loosing her conscience to him.
"I am confused Meghna"
Sonarika sighed, her lips parting slightly before the words followed. She was looking out the window, as though the street might give her courage.
"Hemant’s doing great with his new venture, and I’m proud of him—I really am. But I barely see him anymore. He keeps saying tomorrow will be different, that we’ll make time for each other. But Meghna… that tomorrow never comes. It’s always postponed"
Meghna listened as Sonarika put out her concern not aware of her hidden agenda with her life.
"The last time we had been intimate. It was because of a late night arrival of his from his usual VIP parties. I joked to him that he should come late often but I guess he took it literally. Now he not only comes late , but returns home exhausted and tired. And whatever little energy he has , he uses it on his childish plays with Karan. By the time he comes to bed , he slops down and sleeps. Lately , the only talk between us is 'hello' and 'good night'. I am feeling neglected , and I feel vulnerable all over again"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"And in those times, in the quiet, when he’s deep in sleep, I find myself thinking about Vicky"
Meghna blinked, slow and measured, like a predator who had just sighted prey drifting into her trap. She leaned forward, her voice laced with faux concern.
"Do you really think Hemant sees you anymore? I mean really sees you?"
She smiled carefully, placing her hand over Sonarika’s.
"You’re an incredible woman, Sona. But he keeps giving you promises instead of presence. That kind of loneliness…it carves deep"
Her touch lingered, a calculated gesture that carried more pity than empathy. Sonarika’s shoulders sank as she stared into her cup.
"Vikram made me feel alive again. Desired. The way he looked at me, touched me…"
Her cheeks flushed slightly, a private memory flickering behind her eyes.
"I can’t lie to myself. There’s a part of me that still aches for him. It’s irrational, I know. But it’s there"
Even though Sonarika was playing her role to convince Meghna that she is still involved with Vikram , there was a moment her mind thought her words were actually honest. This was no longer a play , she did miss him. A flicker of satisfaction gleamed behind Meghna’s gaze. She masked it with a sigh.
"Maybe it’s not irrational. Maybe it’s a sign. You’re starving in a perfect marriage. Vikram gave you something real, something raw. That wasn’t a mistake—it was a revelation. "
Her words were silk, but the undertones were venomous. Meghna leaned back, crossing her legs with elegant ease.
"Maybe Vikram can help you find the missing pieces. The ones Hemant no longer cares for. You were electric when you were with him—don’t you remember? You don’t have to tell anyone. Just let it breathe again, in secret. Like before"
"Besides"
Meghna teased, biting into her croissant.
"I think you need a vacation. You’re starting to sound like an old radio—same wavelength, same static"
Sonarika chuckled but didn’t respond. Deep inside, she knew what was missing. Or rather, who was missing. And it wasn't her husband. Their laughter halted abruptly as a loud bang shook the glass door open. Ranga and Sarang swaggered into the cafe, leering and loud.
"Well, well" Sarang sneered, spotting Sonarika.
"Look who’s here. The high-and-mighty queen of domestic bliss. Is Hemant still hiding behind your pallu?"
Ranga snorted with laughter. Meghna instinctively reached for her phone, but Sonarika placed a hand over hers, eyes locked on the goons.
"You don’t scare me" Sonarika snapped, standing up.
"Tell your boss Dilawar that no amount of stalking or threats will undo the restraining order. And as for my husband and son—leave them out of your filthy mouth"
Sarang’s grin twisted into something darker as he stepped closer, his voice dropping.
"Don't worry Bhabhie , Dilawar Bhai can give you a better son than that bitch of a child—”
SMACK! Sonarika’s hand flew, landing hard on Sarang’s cheek. Sarang's face twisted with rage.
"You’ll regret that" he hissed, drawing a hand back to strike her.
But before he could, a figure crashed between them. It was Vikram. His fist met Sarang’s face with a crunch, sending the younger thug stumbling backward.
"Touch her and I’ll break your neck" Vikram growled.
Sonarika’s breath caught. Of all the people—Vikram. Ranga lunged at Vikram, swinging wildly. The cafe descended into chaos as tables crashed and customers fled. Sonarika tried to pull Vikram away.
"Stop it, Vicky!”
But Vikram was seething, possessed by a primal fury, landing a solid kick to Ranga’s gut. Sarang slashed out in desperation, his pocket knife grazing Vikram’s elbow.
Blood blossomed on Vikram’s sleeve. The sight snapped Sonarika from her shock.
"Vicky! Oh My God!” she exclaimed.
Sonarika dragged Vikram towards the exit as Ranga and Sarang fled, bruised and cursing. Vikram winced but let her pull him outside, shielding her even then.
"It’s nothing" he muttered, but she wasn’t having it.
"Get in. I’m taking you to a hospital"
As Sonarika led a bleeding Vikram to her car , Meghna smiled seeing her best friend's protective nature coming out for her boyfriend. Her mind was in a strategic phase , knowing very well that things will soon escalate to the point of no return. The car ride was tense and quiet, the air thick with unspoken memories. Sonarika clutched the wheel, glancing at his injury every few seconds. Her hands trembling.
When they reached the hospital , the doctors checked on the wound. Turns out it was a scratch , the blade happened to penetrate only the skin tissue and bleeding was not much serious. They gave him the necessary dressing and medication and instructed for gew days
"You’re lucky" she said softly as they walked out. She continued.
"You could’ve gotten seriously hurt" Vikram chuckled.
"Dilawar’s men don’t scare me. But the way you slapped that guy—damn"
She didn’t respond, just turned the ignition and drove him to his place.
FEW HOURS LATER SOMEWHERE IN BANDRA
Hemant and his son Karan exited the garden after he brought him there when he recieved him at his educational institution. Laughter still danced on Karan’s lips from the games they'd played, his institutebag hanging loosely from one shoulder. Hemant, momentarily free from the weight of corporate burdens at YOD Industries, relished this rare father-son moment. As they stepped out onto the street, Karan’s eyes lit up at the sight of a nearby ice cream vendor.
"Papa! Can I have a chocolate cone?" he pleaded, tugging at Hemant’s hand.
Chuckling, Hemant nodded.
"Of course my boy. Let’s make this day special"
He handed the vendor a note while Karan eagerly took his cone, licking it with delight.
Just as Hemant turned to look back at the garden, something caught his eye—a sudden, sharp glint under the midday sun. It reflected off a blade. An autorickshaw was approaching from the eastern stretch of the road, picking up speed. Seated inside was Ranga, his face twisted with fury and vengeance. Fuming from the embarassment his gang faced in the morning in the YOD factory grounds followed by the beat down and the slap his brother recieved from Sonarika. Now, Ranga was back, eyes locked on Hemant, machete in hand, fire in his gaze. The rickshaw sped closer. In a split second, Hemant's instincts kicked in.
Without hesitation, Hemant stepped in front of Karan, shielding him with his entire body. Ranga raised the machete—but seeing the child and Hemant’s fearless eyes, he hesitated. He held the blade just slightly and sneered as the rickshaw passed by.
"COWARD!" he mocked, his voice laced with venom.
From the driver's seat, Ranga’s younger brother Sarang burst into laughter, jeering at Hemant. The ice cream vendor stood frozen, cone in mid-air, stunned by the scene. Hemant’s breath was shallow but steady as the danger passed. He pulled Karan closer, his eyes never leaving the retreating rickshaw.
But as the vehicle disappeared into the crowd, Hemant’s fear gave way to something ancient and primal. His gaze hardened, locking onto the license plate. A strange heat pulsed from his right hand, and the golden Garuda ring on his index finger shimmered in the sunlight—its sacred glow faint, but unmistakable. A storm was awakening within him, one he had buried deep beneath. Hemant’s jaw tightened, his mind replaying the moment Ranga sneered, and something inside him shifted. They targeted his son , they crossed the line. They have to pay a price!
HALF HOUR LATER AT GALAXY APARTMENTS
Sonarika led Vikram to his apartment as she opened the main door with her own spare key. It had been a long time since she's been here, but the place looked the same—sunlight streaming windows, the walls still carrying the faded scent of old affairs. She stepped into his apartment like a ghost from the past.
"Still haven’t changed the curtains?" she murmured.
Vikram peeled off his blood-stained shirt, wincing slightly.
"I liked the way it always looked" he said.
She hesitated, then helped him with the fresh tee. Their fingers brushed. A jolt of electricity passed between them. They both paused. Her eyes met his, heart thudding wildly.
"Don’t" she whispered, unsure whether it was a plea or a challenge.
He stepped back, nodding.
"I’m not trying anything........I just… missed you" he said gently.
She bit her lip and turned away. The silence grew heavy again. Finally, she sat down and spoke.
"Vicky...I need to talk about something"
"I think I know what you wanna talk about Soni" Vikram said with assurance.
"Is that so?" Sonarika quipped back looking at him.
"You are nervous about Jabalpur. Returning to the place where we....."
Sonarika knew Vikram would understand. After all , it was a line both of them crossed. She was enthralled by the reality that Vikram too shared the same mess as hers.
"How can I not be Vicky? I don't wanna be in that situation."
"And you will not be. Your accomodation will be at a different room in the lower sections. I will make sure you won't have to endure any past thoughts regarding us. Because I won't be there in that hotel"
Instead of feeling a relief in that revelation , Sonarika felt a sudden twinge of low , as if she heard a sad news. Sonarika was conflicted , but at the same time feeling proud that Vikram cared for her well being to the point that he maintained his distance from her. Even right now , they met after a very long time , especially after that terrible Voyage of Love. But this time , things were different. This was not some private time in an exotic place, it was the very same place where she crossed the line. Where Sonarika and Vikram became one physically in every sense. And deep down she knew she will feel very vulnerable in that place.
"I will be attending the wedding but I will maintain my distance from you Soni. You won't even notice me , and I believe that is the best way. We can cook up another disconnected incident between us to convince Meghna and maybe , we can finally find an out in this mess"
Sonarika understood what he was doing. He was fully focused on this break up scenario to convince Meghna. But Sonarika was in a deep turmoil of her own , ever since that night in the yatch , she has seen Vikram in a new light. Not as a source of passion , but rather a person of understanding. Someone who could understand her at this moment.
"Are you punishing yourself for me Vicky?"
"No Soni , I am not. I am doing this to protect us , I know you might be feeling vulnerable. Because I have to confess"
Sonarika waited in baited breaths as Vikram confessed.
"I am vulnerable too. I might loose control in that very place we became something more. So I am not doing this for you , I am doing this for me as well. I know how much you're struggling. And I don't want to ruin your life further. So I will do what I can to protect what you vale in your life Soni. I will protect your decision"
Sonarika was dumbstruck. To see him standing here honest , being loyal to his word. At the same time , confessing he does feel for her and is keeping himself afar struck a cord in her. They both looked at each other for quiet a while after which Sonarika simply stood up.
"You sound like a bad romantic novel"
He laughed.
"Maybe. But if it gives me one more chance to see you smile again, I’ll read every damn chapter"
As she rose to leave, he followed her to the door.
"Thanks… for today" she said, suddenly unsure how to say goodbye.
He took her hand, kissed her knuckles.
"Jabalpur’s going to be safe and pass like a breeze for us”
She pulled away gently but didn’t scold him. As she walked to the elevator door, her heart pounded. She looked back at him one last time and all she could see was his warm smile. She entered the elevator with baited breath as she left the place.
By the time she reached the car, her palms were sweaty. She gripped the steering wheel and stared ahead. Her life was supposed to be steady—husband, son, routine. But a storm warning was evident about Jabalpur in her mind, one she wasn’t sure she had the strength to resist. And yet, deep inside… she wanted it.
As Sonarika was driving away , her mind was in a vortex of embelished needs and wants. Her mind playing flashes of moments she has shared with Hemant and Vikram in different times. As if her mind is forcing her to make a decision. But she let it go , her turmoil was a neverending burden in her mind for the time being but she focused on the now than later as she drived off to her home.
SOME TIME LATER
When Sonarika returned home , the house was lit with Karan's plays and Anjali's observation of him. Everytime she walked here , a burden was lifted from her. But Jabalpur kept haunting her like a deja vu feeling , regardless the ambience of her home gave her a calmness which reduced the conflict pressure in her mind.
As the sun went down and night started to creep over , Hemant arrived and Sonarika noticed he was wearing a different shirt than the one he wore to his work in the morning. She enquired about it.
"Oh....a small skirmish in the factory and shirt was ruined....wore this as backup from my wardrobe in the office"
As the apartment was getting into its usual family banters and activities , warmth radiated from the clinking of plates and bursts of laughter from the dining table. Sonarika stirred the dal absentmindedly, her mind wandering far from the aromatic kitchen. She glanced over at Hemant as he wrestled playfully with their son Karan, who was laughing uncontrollably while Anjali cheered them on. It should have been a picture-perfect evening—one that filled her with peace—but instead, her stomach fluttered with a nervous anticipation she couldn’t suppress. The thought of Jabalpur loomed in her mind like an unfinished sentence, drawing her again and again to the man she tried to forget.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she passed a bowl to Anjali, her younger sister, who was humming along to a tune playing on the TV. Anjali had no idea about the turmoil brewing inside her sister. No one did. To them, Sonarika was the composed, loving wife and doting mother. But underneath the surface was a woman both excited and terrified about the prospect of drifting to Vikram again. It had been months since their affair ended—months of trying to patch things back with Hemant, trying to find her footing in the life she had built with him. Yet next week, she would be walking straight into the very city, the very hotel, where their forbidden connection was forged.
Vikram. His name was a whisper in her mind she couldn't shut out. He had entered her world like a storm—intense, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. What began as a professional client meeting at TANISHQ turned into something passionate and ended up becoming a sexual entanglement. She ended it because it had begun to threaten everything she held dear. But even in ending it, she hadn't been able to purge him from her thoughts. Especially now, with Jabalpur calling. He promised he won't be near her , but can he really do that? Will Vikram be strong or as vulnerable as her? Will they be able to survive the very place that brought them closer?
A wave of guilt swept over her as she watched Hemant cutting roti into neat pieces for Karan, gently blowing on it before offering it to their son. It wasn’t fair—this duplicity. Hemant had changed; he had worked on himself after a rough patch, been more present as a father and partner. He made her feel loved again, seen. Yet despite all that, here she was, mentally packing for a reunion she shouldn’t be anticipating. Her emotions were a tangled thread—love, desire, regret, confusion—and she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
As the evening wore on, Anjali pulled Karan away to help him with homework, leaving Sonarika and Hemant alone at the table. They exchanged soft smiles and quiet conversation, comfortable in their shared silence. Hemant looked a bit silent , Sonarika thought it was probably his work fatigue. Her heart ached with gratitude for this man who had stood by her, unaware of the storm she had once let into their marriage. Hemant reached out to squeeze her hand gently, a gesture that felt both grounding and suffocating. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Not tonight.
Later, when the house had gone still, and only the distant sounds of Mumbai’s late-night traffic drifted in through the balcony doors, Sonarika lay beside Hemant, who had fallen asleep with an arm protectively around her waist. She watched him—his face softened in sleep, peaceful, unaware. Tears welled in her eyes. How could one heart house such conflicting desires? She wasn’t in love with Vikram—she knew that. But what she felt for him had carved a hollow in her chest, a dangerous craving she hadn’t fully defeated.
As the clock crept past midnight, Sonarika slipped out of bed and walked to the balcony. The city lights blinked like scattered stars. She thought of the wedding, the inevitable encounter, the emotions that would flood her once more. A part of her longed to see Vikram, to confront the echo of what they once had. But another part—perhaps the truest part—just wanted to come home again and feel peace.
And there in the bedroom , Hemant's suffering began. He twisted a little seeing the nightmares that now haunt him , drawn to phantoms only he could see. Ashnoor’s face would resurface—innocent, angelic, lost. A flickering moment of joy would bloom in his chest, only to be extinguished by the image of Manush Rustom, his wife, and young daughter—reanimated in his nightmare, standing lifeless before their home in ruins, the fire behind them a mocking reflection of his guilt. The memory was a blade, sharp and repeated. his past roared alive—flashes of love, trust, betrayal, and death. The haunting of Azerbaijaan was a permanent scar, a story with no punctuation.
He awakened in cold sweat, gasping, fists clenched, heart drumming a war rhythm no enemy could match. His world—the world of weapons, contracts, masterplans—felt powerless in front of his own mind.
Sonarika heard Hemant's groan in the balcony , realizing something was wrong. She charged to the bedroom only to see a sweaty and nervous Hemant. And as Hemant saw Sonarika approaching him, the storm in his mind would slow. Her presence was calm water over fire. She didn’t ask questions. Her touch—soft against the rage within him—was a silent understanding, an intuitive balm. Her embrace became a sanctuary, her scent a reminder that not all in this world was lost. In her chest, he found his place of rest, and though she was unaware of his dark past, she knew enough or believed his words: Hemant’s silence was not emptiness—it was weight.
And at that moment , as Sonarika embraced Hemant , no Vikram haunted her mind. At that moment , he was the only man in her life. Because right here right now , he was vulnerable before her , and she was the nurturing balm that made him felt safe. And Sonarika savored that moment , to be able to embrace him and calm him down. This had happened in the past long ago , and it seems one of those episodes started happening again. But Sonarika didn't care it happened , for now her focus was on only one thing. To calm her Hemant down , to see his breathing return to normal so that she can cuddle him , make him understand that she will always be there for him.
In that vulnerable embrace, he would murmur broken confessions of feelings. Of guilt, of unworthiness, of love found too late. Sonarika never pressed for more. Her role was not to interrogate but to hold, to heal. She offered her warmth without condition, her love without boundaries. And in that moment, Hemant realized he had survived not just through strength or strategy—but through her unrelenting grace.
Hemant knew that without her, he might have shattered. Sonarika was his living tether to the present, the antidote to memories too toxic to relive. She reminded him that despite the darkness, he still had something worth protecting, something still untouched by shadows. Her faith in him made him believe, however fleetingly, that he could still be whole.
And so, as his mind traversed through the senarios he has built within him , Hemant pushed forward. Not just for revenge or closure—but to finally bury the past that haunted him, to make room for a future with Sonarika that wasn’t built on silence and grief. He didn’t know if peace was possible. But he knew now that he didn’t have to seek it alone. With Sonarika by his side, he can find the strength to rise again.
As Sonarika continued to cuddle him as he rested his head on her shoulders. Her mind drifted again , to the same thoughts that took her to the balcony. She understood the importance she has with the man that is embracing him right now. But she also knew the spark she felt in the noon when she touched Vikram, both the feelings providing different energies but at the same time fullfilling two aspects of her life. She didn’t know which path she’d take. Only that whichever one she did, something in her life would change. And something might be lost forever.
Sonarika drifted to sleep and joined Hemant in that deep slumber. As his right hand is lying above him , the Garuda ring in his index finger glowed in the dim light. But this time it didn't just glow in gold , but also in red as the ring was covered in small particles of blood stains!!
SOMEWHERE IN MUMBAI
Law Enforcement officials were tying the do not cross line at a deserted meatshop near Kala Chowki in Mumbai. Inspectors were surveiling the crime scene as inside one of the meat shops were the dead remains of two people. One was planted to the wall with a crowbar latched through his throat while the other laid lifeless with his head fractured and reduced to mashed pulp as both their bloods forming a pool on the floor.
A news anchor was covering the scene as she gave her report.
'Crime wave in Mumbai has escalated its barbarism and chaos in the city as Law Enforcement Forces have found remains of two notorious criminals of an underworld gang in this now deserted meat shop. The deceased have now been identified to be the brothers Ranga and Sarang who are known criminals been charged for multiple counts of priors in the past. But tonight it seems their criminalized ways have reached its brutal conclusion. Law Enforcement is still unclear on who the perpetrators are. But it is clear , the age of crime that Mumbai had forgotten for decades is slowly making a comeback with bloody consequences for the people of this city'
The industrial wind howled through the skeletal remains of Mumbai’s old port, sweeping through the vast courtyard of YOD Industries. The clang of metal and hum of automated machinery echoed faintly from within the complex, but in the open lobby, Hemant stood still—rigid, focused, unblinking. His eyes scanned the dusty road outside the main gates, already sensing the presence before the shadows emerged. He rubbed the Archangel ring strung around his neck, a motion as reflexive as breathing now. It wasn't just a relic. It was a tether to what he was… what he had buried for too long.
Dilawar’s convoy rolled in without hesitation. Bikes screeched to a halt, men with iron rods, machetes, and rusted pistols fanned out. Rafique, young and lanky, jumped down beside his elder brother, his eyes glinting with mischief. But Dilawar—dressed in his sharp, but flapping kurta—had no smile. Lust and rage twisted across his face. His obsession with Sonarika had driven him to delusion, and this confrontation was meant to stamp his authority not just over her—but over Hemant’s very existence.
Hemant didn’t flinch. He didn't yell. He didn't reach for any weapon. He simply stared. The light hit his face at an angle, casting sharp lines along his jaw, hardening his expression into something that looked like stone. The Archangel ring shone briefly in the sun, and his lips barely moved, whispering something only the ring might understand in its history. Then came a sound—footsteps. The kind that didn’t belong to panicked workers, but to men who had seen conflict, battle, loss… and had chosen to keep standing.
They came from inside the factory—engineers, machinists, ex-servicemen, even private defense contractors in plain clothes. Some held tools, others slung rifles. All of them flanked Hemant like a wall, quiet and composed. Not thugs. Not killers. But soldiers of steel, loyalty, and resolve. Dilawar’s men shifted uncomfortably. The numbers had turned, and fear crept into their street-bred arrogance.
Dilawar took a step forward anyway, chest puffed out.
"Just because a bunch of muscles now standing behind the back doesn't mean a damn stray cat will turn into a Lion. "
Dilawar growled. Hemant’s voice was calm, his accent clipped with a trace of something foreign, colder.
"I am not an animal Dilawar. And its best for you that I don't become something you'll regret!"
He took one step forward, and in that moment, his presence shifted. It wasn’t theatrics. It was something ancient. Like a slumbering force stretching beneath his skin.
"And this is not a jungle. The rules of the Animal Kingdom isn't upholded here. This is my domain , my kingdom. And it will be your best interest that you walk away when you can!"
For a moment, time froze. The goons looked at each other, unsure whether to charge or flee. Rafique muttered something under his breath, inching back. That was when the roar of approaching engines shattered the standoff. Black SUVs screeched to a halt. The air grew tense as doors flew open and heavily armed men jumped out, each wearing the sharp insignia of RegalCorp. From the lead vehicle emerged Gurmeet Chaddha, imposing in a tailored tied up suit, the unofficial warhound and chief security officer of the Mehta family.
Chaddha’s face was unreadable, his jaw locked. He walked past the stunned goons and came to stand directly between Dilawar and Hemant. His eyes flicked to the gangster with veiled contempt.
"Your boss wants to see you"
Chaddha said, his voice deep and final. His security team raised their weapons slightly—not a threat, but a warning. A leash pulled taut.
Dilawar’s pride cracked visibly. He looked past Chaddha at Hemant, who still hadn’t moved, his gaze a furnace of unrelenting power. For the first time, Dilawar saw not a businessman, not a rival—but something else. Something monstrous in its quiet, principled fury. Something divine and terrifying. He stepped back, his fingers twitching with repressed rage, then turned and walked towards his bike without another word. While they were walking away , another brotherly duo Ranga and Sarang who were part of the gang looked at Hemant with ferocious anger. They felt insulted and this confrontation ignited a flame of vengeance in them. Hoping to get even for this embarassment in the future.
As the convoy pulled away, engines rumbling like defeated dogs, the silence that followed was deafening. Hemant remained still for a moment longer. Then, slowly, his shoulders relaxed. He unclenched his fist, revealing the Garuda ring on his finger, gleaming like a fire-drenched feather in the sun. The storm within him, that ancient flame, dimmed but didn’t die. It never did. It merely waited—for the next time someone needed reminding.
THAT AFTERNOON AT THE CAFE NEAR TANISHQ
The sun was mellow as Sonarika stirred her cappuccino at the corner table of the cafe, a quaint spot near her office that she frequented with Meghna.
"What's the problem now Sonarika?"
"Its Rachika.....her wedding is happening next week and....I've been invited"
"Yeah I was invited too but scheduling conflicts....what's the issue?"
"Its...Vicky....Rachika's wedding is being hosted a Jabalpur....and Vikram is providing stays for the guest in his hotel"
"And?"
"Meghna....its the same place where........where it all began!"
Meghna realized the situation. She remembers , it was this very hotel inauguration night when Sonarika and Vikram crossed the line and got physically involved. A devious smile was inside her as she planned her tactics.
"I know that...what's the issue?"
"Oh you know...ever since the yatch incident , we are having a rough patch. I don't think its wise on myself to be there"
"Why not , you had no fault in that incident. It was Vikram who did the mistake correct?"
"Yes" Sonarika said remembering the made up thing that never happened.
"Then why are you the one cowaring away from him"
Sonarika was deep in her inner turmoil. She was twisting the edge of her saree , contemplating on the dangerous territory she was going to embark on. She was loosing her resolve , slowly and steadily loosing her conscience to him.
"I am confused Meghna"
Sonarika sighed, her lips parting slightly before the words followed. She was looking out the window, as though the street might give her courage.
"Hemant’s doing great with his new venture, and I’m proud of him—I really am. But I barely see him anymore. He keeps saying tomorrow will be different, that we’ll make time for each other. But Meghna… that tomorrow never comes. It’s always postponed"
Meghna listened as Sonarika put out her concern not aware of her hidden agenda with her life.
"The last time we had been intimate. It was because of a late night arrival of his from his usual VIP parties. I joked to him that he should come late often but I guess he took it literally. Now he not only comes late , but returns home exhausted and tired. And whatever little energy he has , he uses it on his childish plays with Karan. By the time he comes to bed , he slops down and sleeps. Lately , the only talk between us is 'hello' and 'good night'. I am feeling neglected , and I feel vulnerable all over again"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"And in those times, in the quiet, when he’s deep in sleep, I find myself thinking about Vicky"
Meghna blinked, slow and measured, like a predator who had just sighted prey drifting into her trap. She leaned forward, her voice laced with faux concern.
"Do you really think Hemant sees you anymore? I mean really sees you?"
She smiled carefully, placing her hand over Sonarika’s.
"You’re an incredible woman, Sona. But he keeps giving you promises instead of presence. That kind of loneliness…it carves deep"
Her touch lingered, a calculated gesture that carried more pity than empathy. Sonarika’s shoulders sank as she stared into her cup.
"Vikram made me feel alive again. Desired. The way he looked at me, touched me…"
Her cheeks flushed slightly, a private memory flickering behind her eyes.
"I can’t lie to myself. There’s a part of me that still aches for him. It’s irrational, I know. But it’s there"
Even though Sonarika was playing her role to convince Meghna that she is still involved with Vikram , there was a moment her mind thought her words were actually honest. This was no longer a play , she did miss him. A flicker of satisfaction gleamed behind Meghna’s gaze. She masked it with a sigh.
"Maybe it’s not irrational. Maybe it’s a sign. You’re starving in a perfect marriage. Vikram gave you something real, something raw. That wasn’t a mistake—it was a revelation. "
Her words were silk, but the undertones were venomous. Meghna leaned back, crossing her legs with elegant ease.
"Maybe Vikram can help you find the missing pieces. The ones Hemant no longer cares for. You were electric when you were with him—don’t you remember? You don’t have to tell anyone. Just let it breathe again, in secret. Like before"
"Besides"
Meghna teased, biting into her croissant.
"I think you need a vacation. You’re starting to sound like an old radio—same wavelength, same static"
Sonarika chuckled but didn’t respond. Deep inside, she knew what was missing. Or rather, who was missing. And it wasn't her husband. Their laughter halted abruptly as a loud bang shook the glass door open. Ranga and Sarang swaggered into the cafe, leering and loud.
"Well, well" Sarang sneered, spotting Sonarika.
"Look who’s here. The high-and-mighty queen of domestic bliss. Is Hemant still hiding behind your pallu?"
Ranga snorted with laughter. Meghna instinctively reached for her phone, but Sonarika placed a hand over hers, eyes locked on the goons.
"You don’t scare me" Sonarika snapped, standing up.
"Tell your boss Dilawar that no amount of stalking or threats will undo the restraining order. And as for my husband and son—leave them out of your filthy mouth"
Sarang’s grin twisted into something darker as he stepped closer, his voice dropping.
"Don't worry Bhabhie , Dilawar Bhai can give you a better son than that bitch of a child—”
SMACK! Sonarika’s hand flew, landing hard on Sarang’s cheek. Sarang's face twisted with rage.
"You’ll regret that" he hissed, drawing a hand back to strike her.
But before he could, a figure crashed between them. It was Vikram. His fist met Sarang’s face with a crunch, sending the younger thug stumbling backward.
"Touch her and I’ll break your neck" Vikram growled.
Sonarika’s breath caught. Of all the people—Vikram. Ranga lunged at Vikram, swinging wildly. The cafe descended into chaos as tables crashed and customers fled. Sonarika tried to pull Vikram away.
"Stop it, Vicky!”
But Vikram was seething, possessed by a primal fury, landing a solid kick to Ranga’s gut. Sarang slashed out in desperation, his pocket knife grazing Vikram’s elbow.
Blood blossomed on Vikram’s sleeve. The sight snapped Sonarika from her shock.
"Vicky! Oh My God!” she exclaimed.
Sonarika dragged Vikram towards the exit as Ranga and Sarang fled, bruised and cursing. Vikram winced but let her pull him outside, shielding her even then.
"It’s nothing" he muttered, but she wasn’t having it.
"Get in. I’m taking you to a hospital"
As Sonarika led a bleeding Vikram to her car , Meghna smiled seeing her best friend's protective nature coming out for her boyfriend. Her mind was in a strategic phase , knowing very well that things will soon escalate to the point of no return. The car ride was tense and quiet, the air thick with unspoken memories. Sonarika clutched the wheel, glancing at his injury every few seconds. Her hands trembling.
When they reached the hospital , the doctors checked on the wound. Turns out it was a scratch , the blade happened to penetrate only the skin tissue and bleeding was not much serious. They gave him the necessary dressing and medication and instructed for gew days
"You’re lucky" she said softly as they walked out. She continued.
"You could’ve gotten seriously hurt" Vikram chuckled.
"Dilawar’s men don’t scare me. But the way you slapped that guy—damn"
She didn’t respond, just turned the ignition and drove him to his place.
FEW HOURS LATER SOMEWHERE IN BANDRA
Hemant and his son Karan exited the garden after he brought him there when he recieved him at his educational institution. Laughter still danced on Karan’s lips from the games they'd played, his institutebag hanging loosely from one shoulder. Hemant, momentarily free from the weight of corporate burdens at YOD Industries, relished this rare father-son moment. As they stepped out onto the street, Karan’s eyes lit up at the sight of a nearby ice cream vendor.
"Papa! Can I have a chocolate cone?" he pleaded, tugging at Hemant’s hand.
Chuckling, Hemant nodded.
"Of course my boy. Let’s make this day special"
He handed the vendor a note while Karan eagerly took his cone, licking it with delight.
Just as Hemant turned to look back at the garden, something caught his eye—a sudden, sharp glint under the midday sun. It reflected off a blade. An autorickshaw was approaching from the eastern stretch of the road, picking up speed. Seated inside was Ranga, his face twisted with fury and vengeance. Fuming from the embarassment his gang faced in the morning in the YOD factory grounds followed by the beat down and the slap his brother recieved from Sonarika. Now, Ranga was back, eyes locked on Hemant, machete in hand, fire in his gaze. The rickshaw sped closer. In a split second, Hemant's instincts kicked in.
Without hesitation, Hemant stepped in front of Karan, shielding him with his entire body. Ranga raised the machete—but seeing the child and Hemant’s fearless eyes, he hesitated. He held the blade just slightly and sneered as the rickshaw passed by.
"COWARD!" he mocked, his voice laced with venom.
From the driver's seat, Ranga’s younger brother Sarang burst into laughter, jeering at Hemant. The ice cream vendor stood frozen, cone in mid-air, stunned by the scene. Hemant’s breath was shallow but steady as the danger passed. He pulled Karan closer, his eyes never leaving the retreating rickshaw.
But as the vehicle disappeared into the crowd, Hemant’s fear gave way to something ancient and primal. His gaze hardened, locking onto the license plate. A strange heat pulsed from his right hand, and the golden Garuda ring on his index finger shimmered in the sunlight—its sacred glow faint, but unmistakable. A storm was awakening within him, one he had buried deep beneath. Hemant’s jaw tightened, his mind replaying the moment Ranga sneered, and something inside him shifted. They targeted his son , they crossed the line. They have to pay a price!
HALF HOUR LATER AT GALAXY APARTMENTS
Sonarika led Vikram to his apartment as she opened the main door with her own spare key. It had been a long time since she's been here, but the place looked the same—sunlight streaming windows, the walls still carrying the faded scent of old affairs. She stepped into his apartment like a ghost from the past.
"Still haven’t changed the curtains?" she murmured.
Vikram peeled off his blood-stained shirt, wincing slightly.
"I liked the way it always looked" he said.
She hesitated, then helped him with the fresh tee. Their fingers brushed. A jolt of electricity passed between them. They both paused. Her eyes met his, heart thudding wildly.
"Don’t" she whispered, unsure whether it was a plea or a challenge.
He stepped back, nodding.
"I’m not trying anything........I just… missed you" he said gently.
She bit her lip and turned away. The silence grew heavy again. Finally, she sat down and spoke.
"Vicky...I need to talk about something"
"I think I know what you wanna talk about Soni" Vikram said with assurance.
"Is that so?" Sonarika quipped back looking at him.
"You are nervous about Jabalpur. Returning to the place where we....."
Sonarika knew Vikram would understand. After all , it was a line both of them crossed. She was enthralled by the reality that Vikram too shared the same mess as hers.
"How can I not be Vicky? I don't wanna be in that situation."
"And you will not be. Your accomodation will be at a different room in the lower sections. I will make sure you won't have to endure any past thoughts regarding us. Because I won't be there in that hotel"
Instead of feeling a relief in that revelation , Sonarika felt a sudden twinge of low , as if she heard a sad news. Sonarika was conflicted , but at the same time feeling proud that Vikram cared for her well being to the point that he maintained his distance from her. Even right now , they met after a very long time , especially after that terrible Voyage of Love. But this time , things were different. This was not some private time in an exotic place, it was the very same place where she crossed the line. Where Sonarika and Vikram became one physically in every sense. And deep down she knew she will feel very vulnerable in that place.
"I will be attending the wedding but I will maintain my distance from you Soni. You won't even notice me , and I believe that is the best way. We can cook up another disconnected incident between us to convince Meghna and maybe , we can finally find an out in this mess"
Sonarika understood what he was doing. He was fully focused on this break up scenario to convince Meghna. But Sonarika was in a deep turmoil of her own , ever since that night in the yatch , she has seen Vikram in a new light. Not as a source of passion , but rather a person of understanding. Someone who could understand her at this moment.
"Are you punishing yourself for me Vicky?"
"No Soni , I am not. I am doing this to protect us , I know you might be feeling vulnerable. Because I have to confess"
Sonarika waited in baited breaths as Vikram confessed.
"I am vulnerable too. I might loose control in that very place we became something more. So I am not doing this for you , I am doing this for me as well. I know how much you're struggling. And I don't want to ruin your life further. So I will do what I can to protect what you vale in your life Soni. I will protect your decision"
Sonarika was dumbstruck. To see him standing here honest , being loyal to his word. At the same time , confessing he does feel for her and is keeping himself afar struck a cord in her. They both looked at each other for quiet a while after which Sonarika simply stood up.
"You sound like a bad romantic novel"
He laughed.
"Maybe. But if it gives me one more chance to see you smile again, I’ll read every damn chapter"
As she rose to leave, he followed her to the door.
"Thanks… for today" she said, suddenly unsure how to say goodbye.
He took her hand, kissed her knuckles.
"Jabalpur’s going to be safe and pass like a breeze for us”
She pulled away gently but didn’t scold him. As she walked to the elevator door, her heart pounded. She looked back at him one last time and all she could see was his warm smile. She entered the elevator with baited breath as she left the place.
By the time she reached the car, her palms were sweaty. She gripped the steering wheel and stared ahead. Her life was supposed to be steady—husband, son, routine. But a storm warning was evident about Jabalpur in her mind, one she wasn’t sure she had the strength to resist. And yet, deep inside… she wanted it.
As Sonarika was driving away , her mind was in a vortex of embelished needs and wants. Her mind playing flashes of moments she has shared with Hemant and Vikram in different times. As if her mind is forcing her to make a decision. But she let it go , her turmoil was a neverending burden in her mind for the time being but she focused on the now than later as she drived off to her home.
SOME TIME LATER
When Sonarika returned home , the house was lit with Karan's plays and Anjali's observation of him. Everytime she walked here , a burden was lifted from her. But Jabalpur kept haunting her like a deja vu feeling , regardless the ambience of her home gave her a calmness which reduced the conflict pressure in her mind.
As the sun went down and night started to creep over , Hemant arrived and Sonarika noticed he was wearing a different shirt than the one he wore to his work in the morning. She enquired about it.
"Oh....a small skirmish in the factory and shirt was ruined....wore this as backup from my wardrobe in the office"
As the apartment was getting into its usual family banters and activities , warmth radiated from the clinking of plates and bursts of laughter from the dining table. Sonarika stirred the dal absentmindedly, her mind wandering far from the aromatic kitchen. She glanced over at Hemant as he wrestled playfully with their son Karan, who was laughing uncontrollably while Anjali cheered them on. It should have been a picture-perfect evening—one that filled her with peace—but instead, her stomach fluttered with a nervous anticipation she couldn’t suppress. The thought of Jabalpur loomed in her mind like an unfinished sentence, drawing her again and again to the man she tried to forget.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she passed a bowl to Anjali, her younger sister, who was humming along to a tune playing on the TV. Anjali had no idea about the turmoil brewing inside her sister. No one did. To them, Sonarika was the composed, loving wife and doting mother. But underneath the surface was a woman both excited and terrified about the prospect of drifting to Vikram again. It had been months since their affair ended—months of trying to patch things back with Hemant, trying to find her footing in the life she had built with him. Yet next week, she would be walking straight into the very city, the very hotel, where their forbidden connection was forged.
Vikram. His name was a whisper in her mind she couldn't shut out. He had entered her world like a storm—intense, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. What began as a professional client meeting at TANISHQ turned into something passionate and ended up becoming a sexual entanglement. She ended it because it had begun to threaten everything she held dear. But even in ending it, she hadn't been able to purge him from her thoughts. Especially now, with Jabalpur calling. He promised he won't be near her , but can he really do that? Will Vikram be strong or as vulnerable as her? Will they be able to survive the very place that brought them closer?
A wave of guilt swept over her as she watched Hemant cutting roti into neat pieces for Karan, gently blowing on it before offering it to their son. It wasn’t fair—this duplicity. Hemant had changed; he had worked on himself after a rough patch, been more present as a father and partner. He made her feel loved again, seen. Yet despite all that, here she was, mentally packing for a reunion she shouldn’t be anticipating. Her emotions were a tangled thread—love, desire, regret, confusion—and she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
As the evening wore on, Anjali pulled Karan away to help him with homework, leaving Sonarika and Hemant alone at the table. They exchanged soft smiles and quiet conversation, comfortable in their shared silence. Hemant looked a bit silent , Sonarika thought it was probably his work fatigue. Her heart ached with gratitude for this man who had stood by her, unaware of the storm she had once let into their marriage. Hemant reached out to squeeze her hand gently, a gesture that felt both grounding and suffocating. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Not tonight.
Later, when the house had gone still, and only the distant sounds of Mumbai’s late-night traffic drifted in through the balcony doors, Sonarika lay beside Hemant, who had fallen asleep with an arm protectively around her waist. She watched him—his face softened in sleep, peaceful, unaware. Tears welled in her eyes. How could one heart house such conflicting desires? She wasn’t in love with Vikram—she knew that. But what she felt for him had carved a hollow in her chest, a dangerous craving she hadn’t fully defeated.
As the clock crept past midnight, Sonarika slipped out of bed and walked to the balcony. The city lights blinked like scattered stars. She thought of the wedding, the inevitable encounter, the emotions that would flood her once more. A part of her longed to see Vikram, to confront the echo of what they once had. But another part—perhaps the truest part—just wanted to come home again and feel peace.
And there in the bedroom , Hemant's suffering began. He twisted a little seeing the nightmares that now haunt him , drawn to phantoms only he could see. Ashnoor’s face would resurface—innocent, angelic, lost. A flickering moment of joy would bloom in his chest, only to be extinguished by the image of Manush Rustom, his wife, and young daughter—reanimated in his nightmare, standing lifeless before their home in ruins, the fire behind them a mocking reflection of his guilt. The memory was a blade, sharp and repeated. his past roared alive—flashes of love, trust, betrayal, and death. The haunting of Azerbaijaan was a permanent scar, a story with no punctuation.
He awakened in cold sweat, gasping, fists clenched, heart drumming a war rhythm no enemy could match. His world—the world of weapons, contracts, masterplans—felt powerless in front of his own mind.
Sonarika heard Hemant's groan in the balcony , realizing something was wrong. She charged to the bedroom only to see a sweaty and nervous Hemant. And as Hemant saw Sonarika approaching him, the storm in his mind would slow. Her presence was calm water over fire. She didn’t ask questions. Her touch—soft against the rage within him—was a silent understanding, an intuitive balm. Her embrace became a sanctuary, her scent a reminder that not all in this world was lost. In her chest, he found his place of rest, and though she was unaware of his dark past, she knew enough or believed his words: Hemant’s silence was not emptiness—it was weight.
And at that moment , as Sonarika embraced Hemant , no Vikram haunted her mind. At that moment , he was the only man in her life. Because right here right now , he was vulnerable before her , and she was the nurturing balm that made him felt safe. And Sonarika savored that moment , to be able to embrace him and calm him down. This had happened in the past long ago , and it seems one of those episodes started happening again. But Sonarika didn't care it happened , for now her focus was on only one thing. To calm her Hemant down , to see his breathing return to normal so that she can cuddle him , make him understand that she will always be there for him.
In that vulnerable embrace, he would murmur broken confessions of feelings. Of guilt, of unworthiness, of love found too late. Sonarika never pressed for more. Her role was not to interrogate but to hold, to heal. She offered her warmth without condition, her love without boundaries. And in that moment, Hemant realized he had survived not just through strength or strategy—but through her unrelenting grace.
Hemant knew that without her, he might have shattered. Sonarika was his living tether to the present, the antidote to memories too toxic to relive. She reminded him that despite the darkness, he still had something worth protecting, something still untouched by shadows. Her faith in him made him believe, however fleetingly, that he could still be whole.
And so, as his mind traversed through the senarios he has built within him , Hemant pushed forward. Not just for revenge or closure—but to finally bury the past that haunted him, to make room for a future with Sonarika that wasn’t built on silence and grief. He didn’t know if peace was possible. But he knew now that he didn’t have to seek it alone. With Sonarika by his side, he can find the strength to rise again.
As Sonarika continued to cuddle him as he rested his head on her shoulders. Her mind drifted again , to the same thoughts that took her to the balcony. She understood the importance she has with the man that is embracing him right now. But she also knew the spark she felt in the noon when she touched Vikram, both the feelings providing different energies but at the same time fullfilling two aspects of her life. She didn’t know which path she’d take. Only that whichever one she did, something in her life would change. And something might be lost forever.
Sonarika drifted to sleep and joined Hemant in that deep slumber. As his right hand is lying above him , the Garuda ring in his index finger glowed in the dim light. But this time it didn't just glow in gold , but also in red as the ring was covered in small particles of blood stains!!
SOMEWHERE IN MUMBAI
Law Enforcement officials were tying the do not cross line at a deserted meatshop near Kala Chowki in Mumbai. Inspectors were surveiling the crime scene as inside one of the meat shops were the dead remains of two people. One was planted to the wall with a crowbar latched through his throat while the other laid lifeless with his head fractured and reduced to mashed pulp as both their bloods forming a pool on the floor.
A news anchor was covering the scene as she gave her report.
'Crime wave in Mumbai has escalated its barbarism and chaos in the city as Law Enforcement Forces have found remains of two notorious criminals of an underworld gang in this now deserted meat shop. The deceased have now been identified to be the brothers Ranga and Sarang who are known criminals been charged for multiple counts of priors in the past. But tonight it seems their criminalized ways have reached its brutal conclusion. Law Enforcement is still unclear on who the perpetrators are. But it is clear , the age of crime that Mumbai had forgotten for decades is slowly making a comeback with bloody consequences for the people of this city'
END OF CHAPTER 17
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