The gunshot deafened the room and the officers rushed into the room, Menon brandishing his gun once again, still smoking from the previous shot. "Yethi, turn around and put your hands on your head!"
The man turned, his clothes damp with the sweat from his lusting, his trousers filled with sexual frustration, his hands reaching low behind his back, grasping around the handle of a gun, pulling it out, grabbing the prostitute girl, and holding her hostage.
"Come closer and I'll blow her brains out!"
Menon and his officers stopped getting close and waited. The tension gripped the room, choking its sinews as the inhabitants shivered in anxiety about what was coming. The tension was indeed palpable. In Menon's mind, the room was being stretched, the walls spreading like the rubber of a balloon when stretched.
The gunshot that followed the tension rang out through the building. The rainfall weakened and came to a halt, the clouds splitting, and the light shining through.
"It's over, Yethi, put the gun down and surrender."
The ragged man kept his hold on the girl and the gun firm, he looked around, 4 police men on one silly gangster, he hesitated, eyes shining with fear, but they suddenly steeled, pushing the girl into Chandra and rushing out of the window, catching Menon and his officers off guard, "Yethi, stop right now," Menon vaulted out off the window, following Yethi into the narrow streets.
Seeing the gangster gaining more ground, Menon pulled out his revolver and shot, missing Yethi's knee cap by an inch, "stop now and you might live," Chandra and the other officers were rushing ahead circling around Menon and Yethi's area, in order to cut the criminal off.
Menon continued to chase, finding energy from nowhere, shooting his gun.
The silence was shattered by a gunshot.
The girl screamed and stumbled back, her bangles clattering against the wall. Yethi froze, one arm still wrapped around her waist, his body jolted upright like a predator startled in mid-hunt. The smoke from Menon's revolver curled in the dim light, spreading like a serpent through the air.
"Yethi!" Menon's voice cracked like thunder. "Hands where I can see them!"
The gangster's eyes darted wildly, pupils blown wide, a sheen of sweat already pouring down his face. The girl whimpered in his grasp, her body trembling as his arm tightened against her throat. From the hallway behind Menon, boots thundered closer—Chandra and the other officers closing in like hounds circling a wounded stag.
"You come closer and I'll splatter her head on this wall!" Yethi snarled, his teeth bared, the muzzle of his pistol pressed cold against the girl's temple.
Menon steadied his breathing. The room itself felt like it was suffocating—the single bulb above flickering in protest, the stink of sweat and incense mingling with the metallic tang of gunpowder. For a moment, the walls seemed to contract around them, the ceiling pressing down, the narrow air closing into a funnel of dread.
"Think about it, Yethi," Menon said, his revolver steady in his hand, his voice carrying a terrible calm. "The only way you walk out of this alive is if you put the gun down. Now."
Yethi's lips trembled, but his eyes hardened. With a sudden jerk, he shoved the girl into Chandra's arms and vaulted for the window. Shards of glass rained as he burst through, his silhouette vanishing into the dark alley outside.
"YETHI!" Menon roared, shoving the girl aside safely and diving after him. His boots hit the ground hard, his revolver raised, the chase spilling into the labyrinth of New Delhi's underbelly.
The night was alive—shadows lunging across corrugated walls, stray dogs howling, the distant honk of rickshaws cutting through the heavy silence between gunshots. Menon fired, a warning shot that ricocheted off a rusted lamppost, the sparks showering the ground near Yethi's legs.
"Stop! Before I make sure you don't walk again!" Menon barked.
Yethi stumbled, then turned sharply into a narrow lane. Menon followed, his lungs burning but his stride relentless. From the other side, Chandra and two officers appeared, boxing Yethi into a corner.
The gangster froze, his chest heaving, his wild eyes darting from one officer to the other. The revolver in his hand shook—not from weakness, but from rage, desperation, and the heavy truth of being outnumbered.
"It's over," Menon said, stepping closer, revolver leveled with iron resolve. "You run for Muthuvel, for Raj, for all the filth at the docks. Tonight, you answer to me."
For a moment, the night held its breath.
Then Yethi smiled—a twisted grin, the kind born of madness or cunning.
"You don't know who you're fighting, inspector," he hissed. "You caught me… but I'm just the beginning."
Menon's jaw tightened. The cuffs clicked shut around Yethi's wrists, but in his gut, he knew the gangster's words weren't a bluff—they were a warning.
The hunt for Muthuvel and Madhuri Raj had only just begun.