The sharp metal weapon remained frozen just an inch away from his eye.
For several long seconds, absolute silence filled the hall.
The burning cigar was still between his fingers, thin smoke rising lazily into the cold air of the room, while the city lights outside the giant glass windows reflected across the polished floor. A normal man who had just escaped death would have shown shock, fear, or at the very least anger.
He showed none of it.
Instead, a slow laugh escaped him.
It was low, mocking, almost amused, as though this entire thing had entertained him more than frightened him. Slowly turning his face just enough to glance at the weapon near his eye, he finally looked toward the figure standing behind him.
"Kya hua?" he said casually, as if discussing something trivial. "Ruk kyun gayi? Maarna tha na? Ya himmat bas dhamki dene tak hi hai?"
The provocation had barely left his mouth when he moved.
No warning.
No hesitation.
One second he was standing still.
The next, his leg slammed forward with brutal force.
The kick landed directly against Meera's stomach, powerful enough to throw her backward across the polished floor. Her body slid several feet before stopping, the sharp scraping of her high heels dragging violently across the tiles and leaving thin visible lines behind.
But the impact had not landed cleanly.
At the last possible moment, Meera had raised both arms and blocked part of the strike. Otherwise, that attack would have done far worse damage.
For a few seconds, only silence remained.
Then Meera slowly straightened herself.
The atmosphere inside the hall had completely changed now.
This was no longer an office conversation.
Whatever normal boundaries had existed between them had already been destroyed.
He stood there calmly, the same burning cigar still between his fingers, as though kicking someone across the room was no more significant than brushing dust from his sleeve.
Then Meera finally spoke.
Her voice was cold, stripped of everything unnecessary.
"Rajiv ki beti ke baare mein agar galti se bhi kuch socha… ya use chhoone ki koshish bhi ki… toh main saare niyam todkar tumhari jaan le loongi."
For a brief second, he simply looked at her.
Then he smiled.
Not because he found her threat scary.
Because he found it ridiculous.
"Tum?" he said with open mockery. "Tum mujhe dhamki de rahi ho?"
He took a slow step forward.
"Apni aukaat mat bhoolo. Tum bas ek aam mantri ho."
The insult was deliberate.
But instead of anger—
Meera laughed.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't emotional.
Just a short laugh filled with pure mockery.
"Sahi kaha," she said, looking directly at him. "Tumse acchi yeh baat kaun samjhega? Pichle pachis saal jis ghatiya qaid mein phase rahe… usne tumhe sach mein badal diya."
For the first time, something changed.
The amusement in his expression vanished.
And then Meera spoke the final word.
"Thama."
Meera's laughter faded, but the cold mockery in the air remained.
The single word she had spoken had changed everything.
For the first time since this confrontation began, the amusement had completely disappeared from his face. What replaced it was something far uglier. His eyes locked onto Meera with a dangerous intensity, but Meera showed no hesitation now.
She already knew the truth.
The dead man whose identity he was wearing would never return.
And both of them understood that.
"Real Rajiv ko maar kar uski jagah lena…" Meera said slowly, her voice calm despite the violence hanging in the room. "Kaafi bada khel tha."
Then her grip tightened around the sharp metal weapon still in her hand.
"But ek baat yaad rakhna."
Her eyes remained fixed on him.
"Tum aur main ek hi position mein khade hain."
The words had barely settled when Meera moved again.
Without warning, the weapon left her hand like a bullet.
This time, it wasn't meant as a warning.
The sharp metal object cut through the air at terrifying speed and came straight for his face.
But his reaction was inhumanly fast.
He turned his neck slightly at the final possible second.
The weapon missed his eye—
but not completely.
A sharp cut appeared across his cheek as the metal buried itself into the wall behind him with a violent impact.
A faint line of blood slowly appeared.
Absolute silence.
Then he slowly raised his hand and touched the fresh cut on his cheek.
When he looked at the blood on his fingers, something in his expression darkened even further.
Now he wasn't amused.
Now he wanted to kill her.
It was visible.
In his eyes.
In the way his body had gone completely still.
In the murderous silence that filled the room.
And yet—
he didn't move.
Because something held him back.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Rules.
Whatever game both of them were part of, there were limits even he could not casually break right now.
Which only made the atmosphere worse.
Because the only thing more dangerous than an angry monster— is one being forced to stay still.
For several long moments after that, neither of them moved.
The silence inside the massive hall had become suffocating. The faint smell of cigar smoke still lingered in the air, mixing with the cold tension that now filled every corner of the room. Thama remained standing in the same place, one hand lightly touching the fresh cut across his cheek where the sharp weapon had grazed him. A thin line of blood marked his skin, but the injury itself meant nothing.
What mattered was the insult.
No one had dared go this far with him in a very long time.
And yet, despite the murderous rage burning inside his eyes, he didn't move.
Meera understood exactly why.
That was why she showed no fear.
After a while, she calmly walked forward and took a seat across from him, as though the violent exchange from moments ago had been nothing more than an unpleasant interruption. For a few seconds, Thama continued staring at her with open hatred before finally stepping forward and sitting opposite her.
Neither of them trusted the other.
Neither wanted to be there.
But both understood that some things were bigger than personal anger.
Meera finally broke the silence.
Her voice was steady, cold, and completely emotionless as she reminded him that the General Secretary had summoned them, and she made one thing very clear. Whatever personal madness he wanted to indulge in, it would wait. She had no intention of allowing anything to go wrong in that meeting.
Thama listened in silence.
The anger in his expression never faded, but for once, he said nothing. The insult clearly burned inside him, yet even he understood that certain rules could not be ignored.
That conversation ended there.
---
Now, in the present, both of them stood at the destroyed warehouse exactly where they had been summoned.
The place itself barely mattered.
Because the moment their eyes landed ahead—
their focus shifted completely.
A lone figure stood there in complete silence.
From head to toe, he was covered in black.
A long dark cloak hid his entire body, the fabric moving faintly with the cold night wind. His face was completely concealed beneath layered black covering, leaving only his eyes visible through the darkness. Even standing still, there was something deeply unnatural about his presence.
He wasn't moving.
Wasn't speaking.
And yet the atmosphere around him felt heavier than the entire ruined place.
As though the darkness itself stood with him.
Meera and Thama stopped several steps away.
For the first time since arriving, even Thama's arrogance had disappeared.
Without speaking to each other, both slowly raised their hands in that same strange ritual gesture, fingers bent near their faces in symbolic respect.
Then both spoke together.
"Andhera Kayam Rahe."
END OF THE CHAPTER