A few moments ago,

Chota Seth had been fuming with hidden rage.

Tied and gagged in his own farmhouse, the humiliation burned deeper than the bruises on his face.

What hurt far more was the betrayal. Jayesh, that little mutt, had leaked his private gold dealings with Mukhtar Ahmed. Otherwise, there was no way Amir would have believed an outsider and ordered him beaten like a dog in his own home.

To make matters worse, that cunning brat had framed him for colluding with Raju. No matter what happened now, whether he lived or died , Ahmed Bhai would never forgive him.

In his mind, Ahmed was a ruthless man who wouldn’t be defeated so easily in his own territory, no matter how many armed men anyone brought.

Still, Chota Seth refused to die like a sitting duck. He had enough hidden money stashed away.

If he could escape tonight, he could disappear into South India or the East and start over. But before that he need to take over control or his men would be on him. That was why he had loosened his bindings and kept a concealed knife ready in his boots, waiting for the perfect moment. Kill one and put blame on other.

Then came the gunshots, followed by a massive explosion that shook the entire building. Jayesh and Amir immediately rushed to the terrace.

For a moment, Chota Seth’s will to struggle almost died. Being labeled a traitor in this world was a death sentence. There was no coming back from it.

But then the gate burst open.

A few unkwown men stormed in.

One moved like a top-class fighter, while the other two looked younger... possibly amateurs. Chota Seth frowned. He had never seen their faces before.

Raju’s men?

The thought flashed through his mind.

Rohit moved quickly and crouched in front of him."You stay useful, you walk out. Nod if you understand."

Chota Seth’s eyes widened with desperate hope. He nodded frantically, his gaze flicking toward Balwinder who was the only one weilding a weapon in open.

Nice... If I take them down, that proves my loyalty. No need to run.

Robin tried to loosen the tight knots binding him to the chair, but they refused to budge. Rohit shook his head.

"The door is open. We’ll shift him to the corner first before untying him."

Balwinder nodded and whispered, "Let’s move him now, sir."

Chota Seth’s mind raced. ’So the boy in jacket is their leader. If I strike now... I can catch all three off guard.

As they turned the chair, his secretly loosened hands shot out like a viper. He yanked the concealed knife from his boot and lunged straight at Rohit’s back with murderous intent.

"Young Master!" Balwinder shouted.

In a split-second decision, Balwinder shoved Rohit hard to the side.

The knife, meant for Rohit, shifted at the last instant and sank deep into Balwinder’s chest instead.

Balwinder let out a sharp, pained grunt as the blade buried itself between his ribs. Blood immediately soaked through his shirt.

Before Chota Seth could pull the knife out for a second strike, Rohit reacted with terrifying speed , delivering a powerful kick to Chota Seth’s face that sent him crashing backward with the chair.

Rohit paused for a brief moment.. the sight of Balwinder staggering with blood rapidly soaking his shirt struck him harder than expected.

Was this my lapse in judgement? A heavy weight settled in his chest.

Chota Seth, spitting blood, managed to stand up while frantically unraveling the remaining ropes. He cracked his neck with a sickening pop and laughed hoarsely.

"Good kick, boy... Should’ve aimed for your leg first. Hahaha—"

He didn’t get to finish.

Rohit drew the silenced pistol in one smooth motion, aimed it against his head, and fired.

Thud.

Chota Seth’s body dropped lifelessly to the floor.

"Young... Master..." Balwinder called out weakly with bloodied hands.

Rohit rushed to his side and grabbed his hand, trying to stop the wound. "Balwinder! Stay with me!"

Balwinder gave a weak smile, his breathing ragged. "I... can hold on. But I won’t be able to fight..."

Robin, who was standing frozen till now finally regained his composure."Sir, what do we do now? We can’t continue like this — he’s losing too much blood..."

The gun fight outside is still intensely going on.

Just then, the rear door burst open. Chetan and three of Raju’s men rushed in, weapons ready. They froze at the sight of Balwinder on the ground and Chota Seth’s corpse.

Rohit ordered with the hint of urgency. "Chetan, do me a favor. Take him back to my car immediately. Keep him alive."

Chetan hesitated, "But... if we leave now, we won’t be able to cover you. Our Boss will surely come and handle.."

Rohit said firmly. "Please.."

Chetan exhaled, then nodded. "Fine. But don’t die in there."

As Chetan’s group carefully carried Balwinder out, Rohit turned to Robin.

"Robin, take the left most corridor. The second room is the kitchen. Blow the gas cylinder. Make it loud. Can you do it?"

Robin hesitated, clearly nervous. "But sir..."

Rohit placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his voice low but urgent. "Then hide if you have to. Take your time. Shoot only when you must. But, I want it done."

Robin stared at him for a second, then nodded. For the first time, he drew his gun

"Good," Rohit said. "Let’s split."

***

Meanwhile, at the front of the farmhouse...

The night air crackled with sound of immense gunfire. Live ammunition rounds tore through the darkness like deadly fireflies as both sides exchanged heavy volleys.

Raju’s men had initially pushed forward, gunning down several of Amir’s guards armed with unreliable kattas and shotguns.

But the closer they got to the main building, the fiercer the resistance became. Well-placed assault rifles fire from the terrace that pinned them down hard.

Raju cursed, taking cover behind his jeep as bullets pinged off the metal."The fuck?! Who said these bastards only had short guns?! How the hell do they have proper assault rifles?!"

He leaned out, fired a quick burst from his AK 47, and ducked back. Picking his mic he shouted,"Spread out! Surround the farmhouse! Don’t bunch up togeth—"

He never finished the sentence.

A loud, ominous whoosh cut through the chaos. Raju’s eyes widened as he spotted the glowing trail of a rocket streaking straight toward his direction.

"Shit—!"

He dove away from the jeep.

A split second later, the RPG slammed into it. The vehicle erupted into a massive fireball, lighting up the battlefield. The shockwave hurled Raju through the air. He crashed hard into the dirt and lay still.

"Boss!" Happy shouted from behind a palm tree, still firing blindly. "Boss is hit! Someone get him out of there!"

Seconds later, Raju groaned, his body twitching against the dirt. He coughed violently, spitting blood, then forced his eyes open.

"Retreat!" he roared. "Strategic retreat! Fall back, you bastards!"

On the terrace of the farmhouse

Amir lowered his night vision binoculars, a savage grin spreading across his face.

"Halt!" he bellowed.

The firing from his men instantly ceased.

Jayesh, standing beside him, asked anxiously, "Did we get him?"

Amir let out a dark, satisfied laugh as he scanned the burning wreckage below. "Hahaha! Looks like we did. It should be over now."

He clapped Jayesh on the back."Thanks for the modern arms, brother. I’ll make sure Ahmed Bhai gives you proper credit. We don’t forget favors."

His phone rang. Amir answered immediately.

"Yes, Takdeer?"

His expression shifted.

Jayesh noticed. "What happened?"

Amir’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Some rat slipped inside while we were busy with the front." He paused, then added coldly, "Chotu is dead."

Jayesh frowned. "Should I send my men in?"

"No." Amir shook his head. "Stay right here. This isn’t over yet. Those fuckers has tendency to return." He pulled out a long, curved machete from behind his back, the blade catching the dim light.

A dark, predatory smile spread across his face. "Besides we’re not so weak that we need outsiders to clean up our own mess."

***

Back on ground in farmhouse.

Rohit chose the open courtyard route instead of building’s inner hallway. It was riskier, but it gave him space to move.

He stayed close to the boundary wall, slipping through the gaps between the trees lining it.

Two guards patrolled the perimeter. Rohit waited for them to pass, then raised his pistol and fired twice.

Both dropped without a sound.

Rohit moved in silently, crouching as he dragged the bodies aside. His eyes fell on their machetes. He picked one up from his left bandaged hand.

Artwork.

It was heavy, slightly curved, and razor sharp.

He made a few quick swings to test its balance. The hand could still move, but it hurt when he raised it too high.

Better save bullets, he thought. They are limited.

He switched the machete to his right hand and put the pistol back in. The machete felt good in his dominant grasp. It was balanced and more comfortable.

Then he heard movement. Rohit’s eyes sharpened.

Artwork.

He moved like a ghost through the moonlit courtyard.

Small patrol groups crossed his path. Each time, he waited, chose his moment, and fired.

One shot. One kill.

No noise. No alarms.

Same process repeat.

Six bodies later, he swapped magazines and moved on.

But as he moved deeper into the open part of the courtyard, a guard suddenly stepped out from behind a pillar and saw him clearly.

"Intruder!" the guard shouted loudly raising his double-barrel-shotgun.

Now Rohit had no choice.

He ducked behind the first tree to evade the first shot, then rushed toward the second tree. As the shotgun guard tried to reload, Rohit charged straight at him.

The guard was caught off guard. He barely had time to raise his shotgun before Rohit was already on him. The machete came down in a vicious arc, slicing deep into the man’s shoulder and neck.

"He’s right there!"

"Bring more people!"

Shouts erupted. Three more guards charged from different directions.

Now it was pure chaos, no stealth. Rohit didn’t wait. He charged.

They never expected him to come straight at them like a maniac.

Rohit moved like lightning, zigzag. He switched the silenced pistol to his injured left hand and kept machete to his dominant.

The first guard who spotted him raised his katta(local-made oneshot gun), fumbling to take aim. Clearly an amateur.

Rohit dropped low, rolled under the barrel, and fired point-blank into his chest. Before the guard could even fall, Rohit followed through with one clean slash across the throat.

Two more came from his left.

Rohit caught the first strike on his blade, turned inside the swing, and drove the machete deep into the man’s stomach. Before the second could strike, Rohit shot him through the eye.

Five more guards came running from frot, raising their matchets and kattas, preparing to fire.

Rohit grabbed the dying man in front of him and used his body as a meat shield. Bullets thudded into the corpse as Rohit fired back over the dead man’s shoulder, dropping the shooters first with relentless shots.

Eventually he droppd the body and kept moving forward with dual weilding both weapons.

His movements fluid, ruthless, and unrelenting. Some shots did missed but his blade never did. Every strike landed with brutal intent.

When courtyard finally fell silent, eight more bodies lay scattered across the courtyard.

He noticed the firing assault had quietened. So, something bad must have happened. It meant no support.

Rohit stood motionless in the center, breathing heavily, both weapons still in his hands. Blood dripped from the machete onto the grass.

He slowly lowered his left hand. A sharp jolt of pain shot through his bandaged arm. He jerked it back instinctively and clutched it tightly for a brief moment.

"Fuck... I went overboard."

He wiped the blood from his eyes with the back of his right hand and moved toward the entrance of the Eastern Wing corridor. It was only ten steps.

Then he heard slow, mocking claps.

"Impressive for a toddler," a dark voice echoed from behind.

Rohit spun around instantly, raising his pistol and pulling the trigger.. click.

The gun was empty.

Amir stepped forward smiling darkly. "There are only so many bullets in a magazine... and you’ve already used them all."

He raised his machete, pointing towards him.

"How about you face me now?" Amir taunted. "I’m not some amateur level you dealing with."