Some nights don't feel like nights.
They feel like fractures in time.
And since that footage—the woman in the white shawl handing Raaka the "Shakti Protocol"—I hadn't really known what time it was anymore.
Sleep?
A myth.
Rest?
Luxury.
Peace?
Dead.
The only thing left was motion.
Keep moving. Keep thinking. Keep breathing.
Because the second you stop—
—you fall apart.
---
Back at the hideout, Meena was working like a surgeon on a machine that couldn't afford to flatline.
Screens glowed across the room, every monitor reflecting her eyes, bloodshot from staring too long.
She was tracking the frequency of burner phones used around the third affiliate. Dozens of pings across the city. Some were junk. Some were real.
But one—
One ping had paused for thirteen seconds outside a hospital in Dharavi.
The same hospital Vijay's sister had been transferred to before the autopsy.
"Someone returned to the scene," Meena said.
She looked at me.
"I think the Serpents wanted us to find out."
---
I stood by the doorway, knuckles white on the doorframe.
Inside, Danny was patching the new Crimson Van. Reinforced chassis. No license. Modified axles. Tactical GPS synced with our personal comms.
But it was the backseat he was working on.
He'd bolted down four high-powered rifles, each with a name scratched into the grip.
Yash.
Amit.
Vijay.
And… Diya.
I crouched down beside him.
"You miss her too?"
Danny nodded once. "Didn't talk to her much, but… she made Vijay better. Calmer."
He stood up, face unreadable.
"I think the Serpents wanted to see what happens when they take away our balance."
---
Vijay hadn't eaten.
His knuckles were still bandaged. He kept throwing punches at a sandbag until the seams bled open.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Each strike was mechanical. Soulless.
And that terrified me more than his rage.
"Vijay," I called out.
He didn't stop.
"Vijay."
He looked at me now—barely. His eyes were red, not just from anger, but from something deeper. Like his soul had been flayed and stuffed back into the wrong body.
"I know what Raaka said," he muttered. "That I'd already lost."
He threw another punch.
"But now?"
One more.
"He's going to see what loss really feels like."
---
Mid-afternoon. Interrogation room.
Yash brought in a man we caught tailing Meena outside a tea stall. Wore a construction jacket. Carried nothing suspicious.
Except his eyes.
Dead. Unflinching.
Classic Serpent.
I stood in front of him. Calm.
"Name?"
Silence.
"Who gave you the order to follow her?"
He blinked. Then smiled.
"You're already in the maze. And now she's moving the walls."
I frowned.
"She?"
He said nothing more.
He just started humming.
The same lullaby Diya used to sing in the garage on monsoon nights.
Vijay heard it from the hallway.
He stormed in.
I blocked his path.
Barely.
The Serpent didn't flinch.
He just leaned forward and whispered:
"She's closer than you think."
---
Later that night, we reviewed the recording.
Danny ran a filter through the background audio.
Meena slowed the video and enhanced the audio signature.
Beneath the Serpent's humming—faint static.
Hidden radio interference.
Encrypted.
Yash cracked the header.
Just a date and time.
Midnight. 72 hours from now.
No location. No signature.
Just two words tagged in digital ink:
"Phase Two."
---
Something was coming.
Bigger than Raaka. Bigger than revenge.
And if the white shawl woman was pulling strings—
—then we weren't fighting a gang anymore.
We were fighting an ideology.
---
UNKNOWN LOCATION
A shadowed corridor. Concrete walls. Cold lights.
Raaka stood before the woman.
His jaw clenched. One eye still bruised from his fight with Vijay.
"They're regrouping faster than expected," he said.
The woman didn't reply.
She poured herself a cup of black tea. Her fingers were wrapped in bandages.
"I didn't approve the billboard stunt," she said finally.
Raaka paused. "…It sent a message."
"No," she said. "It sent noise."
She turned toward him. "And noise invites attention. We are not ready for Phase Two."
"But it's been initiated—"
Her voice cut through like a blade.
"And I will decide when it proceeds."
Raaka lowered his gaze. Bit his tongue.
She stepped closer.
"You were chosen because you're cruel, Raaka. Not because you're smart."
She pulled out a small envelope from her coat and placed it on the table.
"Deliver this to him," she said. "And make sure that person doesn't hear about it."
Raaka froze. "…You think he's still watching?"
She smiled beneath the shadow of her shawl.
"No."
She leaned forward.
"I know he is."
---
TO BE CONTINUED
---