Back in the sleek, dimly lit control room far from the chaos of Swindon's streets, Zid's fingers hovered momentarily over his phone before tapping out a message. The screen lit up with the name—Zayed, Rex's trusted assistant and eyes and ears in the shadows. The words typed with careful precision:
Kiaan already knows. He knows who I am, and he knows who sent me.
Zid's breath was steady, but his heart pounded a little faster. This was a game of chess—and the pieces were moving faster than he had anticipated.
Almost immediately, Zayed's reply blinked on the screen, terse but loaded with meaning.Noted. Informing Boss now.
Within moments, the message made its way through encrypted channels to Rex himself. Rex, seated in a cold, austere room whose only illumination was the faint glow of multiple monitors, read the message with a thin, unreadable smile curling on his lips.
"Smart boy," Rex murmured to himself, his voice low and dangerous. "Kiaan Verma… always one step closer to the truth."
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepling as he considered the implications. Kiaan's awareness of Zid's true identity was no small threat—it meant the cracks in his carefully constructed empire were widening.
Yet Rex was not worried. Not yet.
"Kiaan may be smart," Rex whispered to the empty room, "but he's still just a boy playing in a storm he barely understands."
His eyes glinted coldly. "Let him think he's close. Let him think he can unravel the threads. But the web is mine to control."
Rex's fingers danced over the keyboard. Orders were already flowing out—agents watching, snipers in place, traps being set. The night was coming, and with it, the game would reach a deadly crescendo.
Meanwhile, miles away, Zid's face was unreadable as he slipped his phone into his pocket, knowing the net was tightening—and that soon, every move would count.