"Wake up, Amit. You're going to want to see this."
Meena's voice sliced through my half-sleep like a scalpel. I'd crashed in the intel room again—half the screens still glowing from last night's surveillance footage. I rubbed the back of my neck, cracked from sleeping in the chair, and blinked at her face hovering above me, lit by flickering monitors.
"What is it?" I muttered.
She didn't answer—just turned one of the screens toward me.
There it was.
A still image. Grainy, infrared. But unmistakable.
A warehouse.
Not just any warehouse—one of the Serpents'.
Hidden in a derelict part of Kurla West, camouflaged as an abandoned textile factory.
"This came from one of the thermal drones we recovered after Vasai," Meena explained, popping her gum. "The Serpents are smarter than most gangs, but they're not ghosts. Not completely."
I leaned forward, watching the heat signatures inside the warehouse. Four figures. Moving boxes. Probably armed.
"How sure are you this belongs to them?" I asked.
"Eighty percent."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, fine. Seventy-two. But that's still higher than your last math grade, I'm guessing."
I smirked. "Call Vijay."
---
We met at an old garage we used for low-profile planning—no names, no eyes. Just grease, silence, and strategy.
Vijay showed up on his bike, engine still warm. He pulled his gloves off and walked over without a word.
Meena showed him the footage, then leaned back on a rusted hood.
"So?" she asked.
Vijay stared at the screen, eyes narrowing. "It's definitely them."
He stepped back, thinking. I could see the shift in him—when his street instincts kicked in, he went quiet. Focused. Not calculating like Kiyaan, but sharper in his own way. Human, but hardened.
I tossed him a bottle of water. "You've been quiet lately."
He gave me a look. The kind of look that says, 'Don't push it.'
But after a pause, he spoke. "My sister's exams are coming up. I've been helping her prep."
That caught me off-guard. "You have a sister?"
He nodded. "Diya. Seventeen. Sharp as hell. Wants to be a lawyer."
I blinked. "Did not expect that."
Vijay chuckled. "No one does."
He sat down, rubbing his hands. "When our parents died, she was just a baby. I was barely thirteen. No money. No family. Just debt and hunger."
His eyes drifted toward the floor.
"I did what I had to. Fought. Stole. Bled. Not for power. Not for money. Just to get her food. Books. A bed that wasn't the goddamn pavement."
I stayed silent. There's a kind of pain that doesn't need comfort—just presence.
"She's the only good thing I've got left," he continued. "The only reason I am still alive in this shitty world."
I nodded. It was unexpectedly surprising to see this side of Vijay.
If anything, he loved his sister more than anyone.
---
We didn't plan a hit. Not yet.
This warehouse needed more than firepower. It needed precision.
Meena started building a rotation map based on the footage—when guards moved, where the light patterns shifted, what hours had the least motion. She even had Yash do recon from a rooftop three blocks away, posing as a junkie.
We were playing the long game now.
And honestly?
That scared me.
Because this wasn't just about a warehouse. It wasn't about turf.
It was a game of psychology. Of nerves. And the Serpents were playing it better than most of the gangs we'd crushed before.
---
Later that night, Vijay and I walked through the quiet part of town. Streetlamps flickered. Dogs barked in the distance. The kind of silence you don't trust.
"You ever think we're becoming them?" I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"The Serpents. Ghosts. Shadows. Hiding in alleys. Watching people die for causes they don't even understand."
He didn't answer right away.
Then he said, "We became devils the moment we stopped asking for justice and started taking it."
"And you're okay with that?"
"No," he said. "But I'm not okay with letting someone worse write the story either."
That sat with me.
Because somewhere in my bones, I knew the Serpents weren't the final enemy.
There was something deeper behind them. A puppeteer pulling strings from the dark. And if the rumors were true—if Ghost was real—then we weren't ready.
Not even close.
---
By midnight, Meena sent one last update.
Finally, one of the serpents was captured by some of our recruits. He was carrying a box full of ammunition, when he was found by our men.
However, he cut his tongue and stabbed himself to death before we could extract any more info.
But, he left some last words behind.
"The skin will crack. The bones beneath will rise. The Fangs are not ready."
Meena looked at me. "Who talks like this?"
I was as shocked as she was. Not for his words, but his loyalty.
I thought for a minute, then replied.
"Someone who sees this city as more than a playground."
"Someone who sees it as clay."
"And they're sculpting something monstrous."
---
To be continued.