I walked out of the college corridor while adjusting the cuffs folded near my forearms. The entire place had gone strangely quiet behind me.

People stared.

Some moved aside immediately.

Some whispered.

I ignored all of them.

My focus should've stayed on the meeting waiting ahead.

But it didn't.

Not after her.

Outside, my black Rolls-Royce Phantom was already standing near the entrance. One of my guards stepped forward the second he saw me and opened the driver seat door respectfull.

I got inside. The door closed behind me.

I started the car first. And like always, the three black SUVs behind me followed immediately.

Security.

My sunglasses rested comfortably on my face while one hand stayed over the steering wheel. The other rested lazily on my thighs.

The engine purred smoothly as I drove through Jaipur roads.

Everything was fine.

Until my mind went back to her again.

The way she stumbled.

The way my hand wrapped around her waist instinctively before she could fall.

Fuck.

She was tiny.

Way too small compared to me.

And the way her small body fit perfectly inside my arms like she belonged there.

A low chuckle escaped me at the thought.

I reached for the cigarette beside me calmly before lighting it. The lighter clicked softly inside the silent car.

I took a slow puff.

Smoke filled the space around me while my fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

Then my eyes dropped toward my own hand.

The same hand that touched her waist.

For some reason...

I could still feel it.

Soft. Warm, and Delicate enough to break.

My jaw clenched slightly.

I wanted to feel her again.

The thought itself made me smirk.

"Fragile little kitten..." I muttered under my breath. Another puff escaped through my lips before my thoughts drifted toward her face.

Those big black doe eyes.

Wide.

Startled.

Looking up at me like she didn't even understand what had just happened.

Those eyes were dangerous.

Because ever since she crashed into me... They hadn't left my mind even once.

The car finally slowed down in front of the Resort.

Guards standing outside immediately straightened the moment they saw my car.

One of them quickly opened the door for me.

I stepped out calmly while removing the cigarette from my lips.

The hotel manager himself was already standing there waiting nervously.

"Good afternoon, sir," he greeted quickly before handing me the key card. "Your private suite is ready. The entire floor has been cleared. Rooftop access too."

I simply nodded once.

No need for unnecessary conversations.

I walked inside while the staff lowered their heads respectfully as I passed.

The sound of my footsteps echoed softly against the marble floor while my guards followed behind me silently.

Inside the private elevator, I leaned back slightly against the wall.

My eyes slowly closed for a second as her face flashed inside my head again.

Those black doe eyes.

That white anarkali.

And then her voice echoed inside my head again.

"Who the hell he thinks he is..."

A dark smirk pulled at my lips.

If I ever see her again...

I couldn't even finish the thought.

Because whenever I finished something.

It never stayed untouched.

Things ended up owned.

.

.

.

.



Isha sat quietly on Kritika's hostel bed while her eyes moved around the messy room nervously. Clothes were scattered everywhere.

Short dresses hung from the cupboard handles, makeup palettes lay open on the table, heels were thrown near the bed, and perfume mixed heavily in the air.

Meanwhile, Kritika stood in front of the mirror excitedly checking outfits one after another before suddenly grabbing a black dress and throwing it toward Isha.

"Wear this."

Isha caught the dress and immediately looked horrified.

"Kritika... no way."

The dress was short.

Very short.

Off shoulder with a deep neckline that made her uncomfortable just looking at it.

"Kritika, you know I don't wear dresses like this," she said softly while holding the fabric against herself.

Kritika rolled her eyes dramatically before walking closer.

"Stop acting like a nerd once."

"I'm serious... I don't feel comfortable in this."

"I'm not listening NO. At least not today," Kritika said firmly while folding her arms. "It's my birthday. I'll make this day memorable for you."

A strange smirk crossed her lips for a second.

Isha missed it completely.



After nearly half an hour of arguing, Kritika somehow forced her into the dress.

Now Isha stood frozen in front of the mirror, pulling the hem downward every few seconds.

The black dress hugged her body tightly while ending dangerously high on her thighs. Her shoulders stayed bare because of the off-shoulder sleeves, and the low neckline made her constantly pulling dress up.

Kritika did minimal makeup on her face, soft enough to make her naturally pretty features stand out even more.

"You look so hot," Kritika grinned proudly.

Isha looked away from the mirror immediately.

She didn't feel pretty.

She felt exposed.

Before leaving, she quickly texted Vee.

- Staying at Kritika's hostel tonight. Birthday sleepover.

The reply came instantly.

- Take care. Call me if needed.

A small smile appeared on her lips before she locked her phone.

An hour later -

The moment Isha entered the club, fear slowly crawled under her skin.

Loud music shook the walls around her while flashing lights covered the entire place in red and blue. People danced wildly near the center floor. Some were already drunk enough to barely stand. Couples kissed near corners while smoke and alcohol filled the suffocating air.

Isha instinctively moved closer to Kritika.

Everything here felt wrong to her.

Too loud.

Too crowded.

Too unsafe.

But she kept calming herself down.

Kritika is here... nothing will happen. Right?

They sat near the VIP section while drinks kept arriving at the table. Everyone around her drank alcohol, but Isha quietly held a glass of orange juice instead.

Kritika laughed casually with others, but in between, her eyes shifted toward a man standing near the bar.

Then subtly-

She signaled him.

The man nodded once.

A few minutes later, another glass of orange juice arrived for Isha.

"Come on, drink properly," Kritika laughed. "At least enjoy tonight."

Isha smiled weakly before taking a few sips.

At first everything felt normal.

But slowly...

Something changed.

The music started sounding distant and heavy at the same time. Her body felt strangely warm. Her breathing became uneven while dizziness crawled through her head.

She blinked hard and gripped the couch.

"Kritika... I don't feel okay..." she whispered.

"Maybe you're just tired," Kritika shrugged casually without even looking properly at her.

Isha stood up unsteadily.

"I'll just use restroom."

She stumbled through the hallway while trying to steady herself against the wall. Her heels kept slipping slightly beneath her shaky steps.

By the time she entered the restroom, her head was spinning badly.

She rushed toward the sink and opened the tap immediately before splashing cold water against her face repeatedly.

Her trembling hands gripped the marble counter tightly.

She slowly looked up at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes looked hazy.

Confused.

Scared.

"What's happening to me..." she whispered weakly. "Ugh... my head..."

The restroom door suddenly opened behind her.

A man walked inside casually before locking the door.

The sound made her freeze.

His eyes slowly moved over her body in a filthy way that instantly made fear rise inside her chest.

"Sweetheart..." he smirked while walking closer. "You need help?"

Isha immediately stepped back.

"N-no... I'm fine... please leave."

"Baby, shhh..." he chuckled darkly before moving closer. "You can barely stand."

Before she could react, his hand grabbed her waist suddenly.

Isha gasped.

His fingers dug into her waist while his other hand brushed slowly down her bare arm.

"Please leave me..." she whispered fearfully while trying to push him away.

Instead, he moved even closer.

"You girls come dressed like this," he muttered near her ear disgustingly, "then act innocent afterward."

His hand slid lower against her thigh. He started caressing her thighs making fear crawled to her chest.

Isha's breathing broke instantly.

"Please-"

"You don't get to say no," he interrupted harshly. "Not when you walked in here looking like some desperate little slut begging for attention."

Tears burned her eyes immediately.

The tap water still flowed beside her.

Then suddenly-

She grabbed water quickly in her trembling hands and threw it directly on his face.

"bitch!"

His grip loosened for one second.

And that one second was enough.

Isha shoved him away and ran out of the restroom.

Her vision blurred badly while panic crashed through her chest. She stumbled blindly through the hallway, gripping walls for support as tears mixed with fear and dizziness.

She somehow reached upstairs where the noise became quieter compared to the main club floor.

One door ahead stood slightly open.

Without thinking twice, she pushed it open hurriedly and entered inside.

But the moment she stepped inside, her blurry eyes landed directly on him.

On the man sitting lazily on the couch like darkness itself.

Smoke curling from his fingers. Cold eyes watching her.And as if pulled by something dangerous-

she walked toward him on unsteady heels.

One shaky hand slid around his neck before she slowly lowered herself into his lap without permission.

"Please..." she whispered breathlessly against his ear while clutching his shirt weakly. "Help me..."

.

.

.

.

The private VVIP floor of the club looked like a different world entirely.

The chaos of the dance floor downstairs couldn't reach here. No loud crowd. No cheap lights. No uncontrolled noise.

Only silence.

Heavy silence wrapped in money and danger.

Dim golden lights reflected against black marble walls while slow jazz music echoed softly through hidden speakers. The massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooked Jaipur glowing beneath the midnight sky.

Expensive cigar smoke floated heavily through the cold air-conditioned atmosphere, blending with the scent of leather couches, foreign alcohol, and expensive perfumes.

Crystal bottles of imported whiskey rested across the low marble tables, each bottle easily costing more than what an average man earned in months.

Several foreign girls moved silently around the room in black dresses, pouring drinks into crystal glasses with practiced elegance before stepping away again without interrupting the meeting. Some sat beside the Russian men casually.

Armed guards stood near every exit silently.

Watching. Waiting. Ready.

Three Russian men occupied the dark leather couches.

Aleksi Dragunov.

Boris Zharkov.

And the oldest among them-

Zakhar Sokolov.

Cold eyes.

Sharp faces.

The kind of men who looked dangerous even while sitting relaxed with a drink in hand.

Then the private doors finally opened.

The room instinctively shifted its attention.

Rudraksh entered with two bodyguards following behind him silently.

No blazer.

No unnecessary show-off.

Just a fitted black shirt and black pants.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled till his forearms, veins sharply visible beneath the dim amber lighting while the top buttons remained slightly open. Calm confidence radiated from him.

Aleksi stood first, whiskey glass still in his hand.

"We were expecting Ace."

Ace Aka Abeer Malhotra and blaze aka Rudraksha Singh Rathore.

Rudraksh walked toward the couches calmly.

"Ace occupied with his business."

He lit the cigarette lazily before looking at them.

"So I'll be leading this meeting now."

For a moment the Russians exchanged glances.

Then Boris stood up with a faint smile and extended his hand.

"Nice to finally meet you Blaze."

Their handshake was firm and controlled.

Zakhar followed next, older eyes studying Rudraksh carefully before shaking his hand once with quiet interest. The remaining formalities ended quickly before everyone settled back onto the couches again.

A foreign girl stepped forward silently and poured neat whiskey into Rudraksh's crystal glass before walking away again.

Just neat.

Aleksi finally leaned forward and placed a black duffel bag over the marble table between them.

The zip opened slowly.

And the atmosphere shifted immediately.

Inside the bag rested polished weapons reflecting beneath the dim golden lights.

AK-12 rifles.

MP5 tactical units.

Glock pistols.

Aleksi picked a gun carefully.

"Russian modified system."

He rotated it once.

Rudraksh's eyes remained fixed on the weapons silently before he finally leaned forward and picked up the AK-47.

The room watched quietly.

The black metal looked deadly beneath the amber light while Rudraksh checked the weight naturally like he had handled weapons his entire life. His fingers brushed across the body before he pulled the charging handle once.

Chk.

The metallic sound echoed sharply through the room.

Then suddenly-

Rudraksh lifted the AK-47 downward slightly and fired toward the opposite couch leg.

Bang.

The deafening shot exploded through the private room. One of the girls flinched violently. Even a guard near the door straightened instantly.

Dust fell lightly from above while smoke escaped from the barrel.

And Rudraksh?

He only smirked.

Slowly. Dangerously.

Then he lowered the gun before taking another drag from his cigarette and whispered,

"I'm keeping this."

Nobody objected.

Nobody even attempted to.

The Russians simply exchanged a glance before Zakhar chuckled quietly into his whiskey glass.

"I see."

Rudraksh casually placed the AK 47 beside him on the couch before taking another slow drag from his cigarette.

At that exact moment another guard entered carrying a massive rolled map. He unfolded it carefully across the black marble table while another clipped the corners down firmly so the paper remained flat.

Routes.

Cargo lines.

(cargo lines = the routes the trucks will follow)

Border sectors.

Police territories.

Every inch of the map looked dangerous.

Boris leaned forward first and uncapped a black marker.

"We advise northern movement."

The black line dragged slowly across the map.

"Shipment enters through Volen Strip cuts across Krest Valley exits through Narvik Belt."

[Volen strip= entry zone of trucks(convoy)

Krest valley= middle section like u guys can image long path highway

Narvik belt= it's a exit point or route of convoy or trucks]

Another black circle appeared near the route.

"Minimal checkpoint activity."

Aleksi nodded immediately before saying-

"Fast route. Less fuel usage. Less civilian interference."

Rudraksh remained silent through the entire explanation.

Leaning lazily against the leather couch while smoke curled around his face. One hand held the cigarette while the other slowly swirled the whiskey inside his glass.

Then finally-

He leaned forward.

Picked up a red marker.

And dragged a sharp red cross directly across Boris's route.

Silence fell instantly.

Rudraksh tapped one marked section with the red pen.

"This area?"

Another tap.

"Daily black-market movement."

The pen moved lower.

"Which means daily police inspections."

Another red mark followed.

"Too many illegal trucks already pass through here."

His eyes lifted toward the Russians calmly.

"Even bribed officers become nervous under pressure."

The room remained completely silent now while Rudraksh took another slow sip of whiskey before placing the glass down carefully.

Then he dragged the red marker across another side of the map.

"Split the convoy."

The red line stretched smoothly.

"First movement enters through Velkov Yard. Crosses Sector 9 Freight Line at 01:40. No stopping at Dornik Division."

[Same pattern...enter...highway...exit]

Another mark followed.

"Karsov Industrial Belt. Escort vehicle (protection vehicle) joins from here."

The Russians watched every movement carefully now.

Rudraksh shifted the marker again toward another route.

"Second convoy moves through Ravik Pass. Crosses Varn Plateau. Radio silence near Black Dune Stretch."

Another line.

"Then exits through Orlov Border Line."

He finally placed the marker down.

"If one truck gets intercepted..."

(Intercepted= caught)

His dark eyes lifted slowly.

"At least the second shipment crosses safely."

Zakhar leaned back deeper into the couch now, clearly impressed.

But Boris suddenly pointed toward one marked section on Route One.

"This point here..."

His finger rested over the map.

"High-risk territory."

Rudraksh lazily leaned back again, cigarette resting between his fingers while smoke escaped slowly past his lips.

"That's easy for me."

The confidence in his voice made the room quiet again.

Zakhar laughed softly.

Deep.

Amused.

"Of course it is."

His older eyes narrowed slightly toward Rudraksh.

"You're Blaze after all."

Rudraksh just took another puff

Nothing more.

No explanation.

The routes were finalized soon after.

Then came the real discussion.

Shares.

Aleksi lifted his whiskey glass again before speaking.

"Forty percent."

Rudraksh actually chuckled at that.

Low.

Disbelieving.

Then he leaned back against the leather couch, cigarette resting between his fingers while the other hand tapped against the armrest.

"The routes are mine."

Tap.

"The trucks are mine."

Another tap.

"The drivers are mine."

His eyes lifted toward them.

"The risk is mine."

Silence filled the room instantly.

"Only the weapons belong to you."

Boris frowned slightly.

"Fifty."

"No."

"Fifty-five."

Rudraksh picked up his whiskey glass calmly before taking another sip and whispered,

"Sixty-five."

Zakhar narrowed his eyes.

"That's excessive."

Rudraksh looked directly at him.

"No more."

A pause.

"No less."

Aleksi leaned back with visible irritation.

"Sixty is enough."

Rudraksh calmly lit another cigarette.

"I already said what I want."

The negotiation stretched for several more tense minutes before silence finally settled again.

Then Zakhar exhaled heavily before extending his hand first.

"Deal."

Rudraksh looked at the old Russian for two seconds before finally shaking his hand once.

Firm.

Final.

The deal was sealed.

The door slid open.

Cold night air entered the private chamber.

And then a girl stumbled inside.

Black heels clicking unevenly against the marble floor.

Her tiny black dress clung dangerously to her body, the fabric riding higher over her thighs with every unstable step. Hair messy. Breath uneven. Those huge dark eyes slightly hazy,unfocused.

But still beautiful enough to make silence fall.

The Russian men looked amused.

Rudraksh didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Smoke curled slowly from between his fingers as he sat spread back on the leather couch.

Then she reached him.

One trembling hand slid around his neck.

The other grabbed his shoulder for balance before she practically collapsed onto his lap.

A soft shaky whisper escaped her lips near his ear.

"Please... help..."

Rudraksh's smirk deepened.

Recognition flashed behind his cold eyes instantly.

Those eyes.

Those same black eyes from before.

Only now slightly dozy.

Weak.

His gaze dCh = 3

I walked out of the college corridor while adjusting the cuffs folded near my forearms. The entire place had gone strangely quiet behind me.

People stared.

Some moved aside immediately.

Some whispered.

I ignored all of them.

My focus should've stayed on the meeting waiting ahead.

But it didn't.

Not after her.

Outside, my black Rolls-Royce Phantom was already standing near the entrance. One of my guards stepped forward the second he saw me and opened the driver seat door respectfull.

I got inside. The door closed behind me.

I started the car first. And like always, the three black SUVs behind me followed immediately.

Security.

My sunglasses rested comfortably on my face while one hand stayed over the steering wheel. The other rested lazily on my thighs.

The engine purred smoothly as I drove through Jaipur roads.

Everything was fine.

Until my mind went back to her again.

The way she stumbled.

The way my hand wrapped around her waist instinctively before she could fall.

Fuck.

She was tiny.

Way too small compared to me.

And the way her small body fit perfectly inside my arms like she belonged there.

A low chuckle escaped me at the thought.

I reached for the cigarette beside me calmly before lighting it. The lighter clicked softly inside the silent car.

I took a slow puff.

Smoke filled the space around me while my fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

Then my eyes dropped toward my own hand.

The same hand that touched her waist.

For some reason...

I could still feel it.

Soft. Warm, and Delicate enough to break.

My jaw clenched slightly.

I wanted to feel her again.

The thought itself made me smirk.

"Fragile little kitten..." I muttered under my breath. Another puff escaped through my lips before my thoughts drifted toward her face.

Those big black doe eyes.

Wide.

Startled.

Looking up at me like she didn't even understand what had just happened.

Those eyes were dangerous.

Because ever since she crashed into me... They hadn't left my mind even once.

The car finally slowed down in front of the Resort.

Guards standing outside immediately straightened the moment they saw my car.

One of them quickly opened the door for me.

I stepped out calmly while removing the cigarette from my lips.

The hotel manager himself was already standing there waiting nervously.

"Good afternoon, sir," he greeted quickly before handing me the key card. "Your private suite is ready. The entire floor has been cleared. Rooftop access too."

I simply nodded once.

No need for unnecessary conversations.

I walked inside while the staff lowered their heads respectfully as I passed.

The sound of my footsteps echoed softly against the marble floor while my guards followed behind me silently.

Inside the private elevator, I leaned back slightly against the wall.

My eyes slowly closed for a second as her face flashed inside my head again.

Those black doe eyes.

That white anarkali.

And then her voice echoed inside my head again.

"Who the hell he thinks he is..."

A dark smirk pulled at my lips.

If I ever see her again...

I couldn't even finish the thought.

Because whenever I finished something.

It never stayed untouched.

Things ended up owned.

.

.

.

.



Isha sat quietly on Kritika's hostel bed while her eyes moved around the messy room nervously. Clothes were scattered everywhere.

Short dresses hung from the cupboard handles, makeup palettes lay open on the table, heels were thrown near the bed, and perfume mixed heavily in the air.

Meanwhile, Kritika stood in front of the mirror excitedly checking outfits one after another before suddenly grabbing a black dress and throwing it toward Isha.

"Wear this."

Isha caught the dress and immediately looked horrified.

"Kritika... no way."

The dress was short.

Very short.

Off shoulder with a deep neckline that made her uncomfortable just looking at it.

"Kritika, you know I don't wear dresses like this," she said softly while holding the fabric against herself.

Kritika rolled her eyes dramatically before walking closer.

"Stop acting like a nerd once."

"I'm serious... I don't feel comfortable in this."

"I'm not listening NO. At least not today," Kritika said firmly while folding her arms. "It's my birthday. I'll make this day memorable for you."

A strange smirk crossed her lips for a second.

Isha missed it completely.



After nearly half an hour of arguing, Kritika somehow forced her into the dress.

Now Isha stood frozen in front of the mirror, pulling the hem downward every few seconds.

The black dress hugged her body tightly while ending dangerously high on her thighs. Her shoulders stayed bare because of the off-shoulder sleeves, and the low neckline made her constantly pulling dress up.

Kritika did minimal makeup on her face, soft enough to make her naturally pretty features stand out even more.

"You look so hot," Kritika grinned proudly.

Isha looked away from the mirror immediately.

She didn't feel pretty.

She felt exposed.

Before leaving, she quickly texted Vee.

- Staying at Kritika's hostel tonight. Birthday sleepover.

The reply came instantly.

- Take care. Call me if needed.

A small smile appeared on her lips before she locked her phone.

An hour later -

The moment Isha entered the club, fear slowly crawled under her skin.

Loud music shook the walls around her while flashing lights covered the entire place in red and blue. People danced wildly near the center floor. Some were already drunk enough to barely stand. Couples kissed near corners while smoke and alcohol filled the suffocating air.

Isha instinctively moved closer to Kritika.

Everything here felt wrong to her.

Too loud.

Too crowded.

Too unsafe.

But she kept calming herself down.

Kritika is here... nothing will happen. Right?

They sat near the VIP section while drinks kept arriving at the table. Everyone around her drank alcohol, but Isha quietly held a glass of orange juice instead.

Kritika laughed casually with others, but in between, her eyes shifted toward a man standing near the bar.

Then subtly-

She signaled him.

The man nodded once.

A few minutes later, another glass of orange juice arrived for Isha.

"Come on, drink properly," Kritika laughed. "At least enjoy tonight."

Isha smiled weakly before taking a few sips.

At first everything felt normal.

But slowly...

Something changed.

The music started sounding distant and heavy at the same time. Her body felt strangely warm. Her breathing became uneven while dizziness crawled through her head.

She blinked hard and gripped the couch.

"Kritika... I don't feel okay..." she whispered.

"Maybe you're just tired," Kritika shrugged casually without even looking properly at her.

Isha stood up unsteadily.

"I'll just use restroom."

She stumbled through the hallway while trying to steady herself against the wall. Her heels kept slipping slightly beneath her shaky steps.

By the time she entered the restroom, her head was spinning badly.

She rushed toward the sink and opened the tap immediately before splashing cold water against her face repeatedly.

Her trembling hands gripped the marble counter tightly.

She slowly looked up at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes looked hazy.

Confused.

Scared.

"What's happening to me..." she whispered weakly. "Ugh... my head..."

The restroom door suddenly opened behind her.

A man walked inside casually before locking the door.

The sound made her freeze.

His eyes slowly moved over her body in a filthy way that instantly made fear rise inside her chest.

"Sweetheart..." he smirked while walking closer. "You need help?"

Isha immediately stepped back.

"N-no... I'm fine... please leave."

"Baby, shhh..." he chuckled darkly before moving closer. "You can barely stand."

Before she could react, his hand grabbed her waist suddenly.

Isha gasped.

His fingers dug into her waist while his other hand brushed slowly down her bare arm.

"Please leave me..." she whispered fearfully while trying to push him away.

Instead, he moved even closer.

"You girls come dressed like this," he muttered near her ear disgustingly, "then act innocent afterward."

His hand slid lower against her thigh. He started caressing her thighs making fear crawled to her chest.

Isha's breathing broke instantly.

"Please-"

"You don't get to say no," he interrupted harshly. "Not when you walked in here looking like some desperate little slut begging for attention."

Tears burned her eyes immediately.

The tap water still flowed beside her.

Then suddenly-

She grabbed water quickly in her trembling hands and threw it directly on his face.

"bitch!"

His grip loosened for one second.

And that one second was enough.

Isha shoved him away and ran out of the restroom.

Her vision blurred badly while panic crashed through her chest. She stumbled blindly through the hallway, gripping walls for support as tears mixed with fear and dizziness.

She somehow reached upstairs where the noise became quieter compared to the main club floor.

One door ahead stood slightly open.

Without thinking twice, she pushed it open hurriedly and entered inside.

But the moment she stepped inside, her blurry eyes landed directly on him.

On the man sitting lazily on the couch like darkness itself.

Smoke curling from his fingers. Cold eyes watching her.And as if pulled by something dangerous-

she walked toward him on unsteady heels.

One shaky hand slid around his neck before she slowly lowered herself into his lap without permission.

"Please..." she whispered breathlessly against his ear while clutching his shirt weakly. "Help me..."

.

.

.

.

The private VVIP floor of the club looked like a different world entirely.

The chaos of the dance floor downstairs couldn't reach here. No loud crowd. No cheap lights. No uncontrolled noise.

Only silence.

Heavy silence wrapped in money and danger.

Dim golden lights reflected against black marble walls while slow jazz music echoed softly through hidden speakers. The massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooked Jaipur glowing beneath the midnight sky.

Expensive cigar smoke floated heavily through the cold air-conditioned atmosphere, blending with the scent of leather couches, foreign alcohol, and expensive perfumes.

Crystal bottles of imported whiskey rested across the low marble tables, each bottle easily costing more than what an average man earned in months.

Several foreign girls moved silently around the room in black dresses, pouring drinks into crystal glasses with practiced elegance before stepping away again without interrupting the meeting. Some sat beside the Russian men casually.

Armed guards stood near every exit silently.

Watching. Waiting. Ready.

Three Russian men occupied the dark leather couches.

Aleksi Dragunov.

Boris Zharkov.

And the oldest among them-

Zakhar Sokolov.

Cold eyes.

Sharp faces.

The kind of men who looked dangerous even while sitting relaxed with a drink in hand.

Then the private doors finally opened.

The room instinctively shifted its attention.

Rudraksh entered with two bodyguards following behind him silently.

No blazer.

No unnecessary show-off.

Just a fitted black shirt and black pants.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled till his forearms, veins sharply visible beneath the dim amber lighting while the top buttons remained slightly open. Calm confidence radiated from him.

Aleksi stood first, whiskey glass still in his hand.

"We were expecting Ace."

Ace Aka Abeer Malhotra and blaze aka Rudraksha Singh Rathore.

Rudraksh walked toward the couches calmly.

"Ace occupied with his business."

He lit the cigarette lazily before looking at them.

"So I'll be leading this meeting now."

For a moment the Russians exchanged glances.

Then Boris stood up with a faint smile and extended his hand.

"Nice to finally meet you Blaze."

Their handshake was firm and controlled.

Zakhar followed next, older eyes studying Rudraksh carefully before shaking his hand once with quiet interest. The remaining formalities ended quickly before everyone settled back onto the couches again.

A foreign girl stepped forward silently and poured neat whiskey into Rudraksh's crystal glass before walking away again.

Just neat.

Aleksi finally leaned forward and placed a black duffel bag over the marble table between them.

The zip opened slowly.

And the atmosphere shifted immediately.

Inside the bag rested polished weapons reflecting beneath the dim golden lights.

AK-12 rifles.

MP5 tactical units.

Glock pistols.

Aleksi picked a gun carefully.

"Russian modified system."

He rotated it once.

Rudraksh's eyes remained fixed on the weapons silently before he finally leaned forward and picked up the AK-47.

The room watched quietly.

The black metal looked deadly beneath the amber light while Rudraksh checked the weight naturally like he had handled weapons his entire life. His fingers brushed across the body before he pulled the charging handle once.

Chk.

The metallic sound echoed sharply through the room.

Then suddenly-

Rudraksh lifted the AK-47 downward slightly and fired toward the opposite couch leg.

Bang.

The deafening shot exploded through the private room. One of the girls flinched violently. Even a guard near the door straightened instantly.

Dust fell lightly from above while smoke escaped from the barrel.

And Rudraksh?

He only smirked.

Slowly. Dangerously.

Then he lowered the gun before taking another drag from his cigarette and whispered,

"I'm keeping this."

Nobody objected.

Nobody even attempted to.

The Russians simply exchanged a glance before Zakhar chuckled quietly into his whiskey glass.

"I see."

Rudraksh casually placed the AK 47 beside him on the couch before taking another slow drag from his cigarette.

At that exact moment another guard entered carrying a massive rolled map. He unfolded it carefully across the black marble table while another clipped the corners down firmly so the paper remained flat.

Routes.

Cargo lines.

(cargo lines = the routes the trucks will follow)

Border sectors.

Police territories.

Every inch of the map looked dangerous.

Boris leaned forward first and uncapped a black marker.

"We advise northern movement."

The black line dragged slowly across the map.

"Shipment enters through Volen Strip cuts across Krest Valley exits through Narvik Belt."

[Volen strip= entry zone of trucks(convoy)

Krest valley= middle section like u guys can image long path highway

Narvik belt= it's a exit point or route of convoy or trucks]

Another black circle appeared near the route.

"Minimal checkpoint activity."

Aleksi nodded immediately before saying-

"Fast route. Less fuel usage. Less civilian interference."

Rudraksh remained silent through the entire explanation.

Leaning lazily against the leather couch while smoke curled around his face. One hand held the cigarette while the other slowly swirled the whiskey inside his glass.

Then finally-

He leaned forward.

Picked up a red marker.

And dragged a sharp red cross directly across Boris's route.

Silence fell instantly.

Rudraksh tapped one marked section with the red pen.

"This area?"

Another tap.

"Daily black-market movement."

The pen moved lower.

"Which means daily police inspections."

Another red mark followed.

"Too many illegal trucks already pass through here."

His eyes lifted toward the Russians calmly.

"Even bribed officers become nervous under pressure."

The room remained completely silent now while Rudraksh took another slow sip of whiskey before placing the glass down carefully.

Then he dragged the red marker across another side of the map.

"Split the convoy."

The red line stretched smoothly.

"First movement enters through Velkov Yard. Crosses Sector 9 Freight Line at 01:40. No stopping at Dornik Division."

[Same pattern...enter...highway...exit]

Another mark followed.

"Karsov Industrial Belt. Escort vehicle (protection vehicle) joins from here."

The Russians watched every movement carefully now.

Rudraksh shifted the marker again toward another route.

"Second convoy moves through Ravik Pass. Crosses Varn Plateau. Radio silence near Black Dune Stretch."

Another line.

"Then exits through Orlov Border Line."

He finally placed the marker down.

"If one truck gets intercepted..."

(Intercepted= caught)

His dark eyes lifted slowly.

"At least the second shipment crosses safely."

Zakhar leaned back deeper into the couch now, clearly impressed.

But Boris suddenly pointed toward one marked section on Route One.

"This point here..."

His finger rested over the map.

"High-risk territory."

Rudraksh lazily leaned back again, cigarette resting between his fingers while smoke escaped slowly past his lips.

"That's easy for me."

The confidence in his voice made the room quiet again.

Zakhar laughed softly.

Deep.

Amused.

"Of course it is."

His older eyes narrowed slightly toward Rudraksh.

"You're Blaze after all."

Rudraksh just took another puff

Nothing more.

No explanation.

The routes were finalized soon after.

Then came the real discussion.

Shares.

Aleksi lifted his whiskey glass again before speaking.

"Forty percent."

Rudraksh actually chuckled at that.

Low.

Disbelieving.

Then he leaned back against the leather couch, cigarette resting between his fingers while the other hand tapped against the armrest.

"The routes are mine."

Tap.

"The trucks are mine."

Another tap.

"The drivers are mine."

His eyes lifted toward them.

"The risk is mine."

Silence filled the room instantly.

"Only the weapons belong to you."

Boris frowned slightly.

"Fifty."

"No."

"Fifty-five."

Rudraksh picked up his whiskey glass calmly before taking another sip and whispered,

"Sixty-five."

Zakhar narrowed his eyes.

"That's excessive."

Rudraksh looked directly at him.

"No more."

A pause.

"No less."

Aleksi leaned back with visible irritation.

"Sixty is enough."

Rudraksh calmly lit another cigarette.

"I already said what I want."

The negotiation stretched for several more tense minutes before silence finally settled again.

Then Zakhar exhaled heavily before extending his hand first.

"Deal."

Rudraksh looked at the old Russian for two seconds before finally shaking his hand once.

Firm.

Final.

The deal was sealed.

The door slid open.

Cold night air entered the private chamber.

And then a girl stumbled inside.

Black heels clicking unevenly against the marble floor.

Her tiny black dress clung dangerously to her body, the fabric riding higher over her thighs with every unstable step. Hair messy. Breath uneven. Those huge dark eyes slightly hazy,unfocused.

But still beautiful enough to make silence fall.

The Russian men looked amused.

Rudraksh didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Smoke curled slowly from between his fingers as he sat spread back on the leather couch.

Then she reached him.

One trembling hand slid around his neck.

The other grabbed his shoulder for balance before she practically collapsed onto his lap.

A soft shaky whisper escaped her lips near his ear.

"Please... help..."

Rudraksh's smirk deepened.

Recognition flashed behind his cold eyes instantly.

Those eyes.

Those same black eyes from before.

Only now slightly dozy.

Weak.

His gaze dragged slowly across her face while she clutched his black shirt tightly in her fists before resting her head against his chest like she belonged there.

Her fingers lazily played with the open button of his shirt.

Rudraksh inhaled once from his cigarette.

Then slowly, very slowly-

he lifted a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Jaan?"

Her lashes fluttered weakly.

Before she could answer,

Aleski laughed.

That disgusting creepy smirk stretched across his face as he leaned back in his chair.

"Would like to share this pretty little thing?"

Silence.

Dead silence.

Rudraksh's eyes darkened instantly.

Not anger.

Something worse.

The veins of his forearms rose sharply beneath the rolled sleeves of hragged slowly across her face while she clutched his black shirt tightly in her fists before resting her head against his chest like she belonged there.

Her fingers lazily played with the open button of his shirt.

Rudraksh inhaled once from his cigarette.

Then slowly, very slowly-

he lifted a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Jaan?"

Her lashes fluttered weakly.

Before she could answer,

Aleski laughed.

That disgusting creepy smirk stretched across his face as he leaned back in his chair.

"Would like to share this pretty little thing?"

Silence.

Dead silence.

Rudraksh's eyes darkened instantly.

Not anger.

Something worse.

The veins of his forearms rose sharply beneath the rolled sleeves of h