The clock struck 2:37 a.m. in Swindon.
Moonlight poured through the tall windows of Rex's penthouse office like silent judgment. He was half-asleep on his leather recliner, the ash from his cigar curling upward into the dark like coiling snakes, when the door flew open.
Arav barged in, panic sharp in his voice. "Rex—he hit again."
Rex's eyes snapped open.
> "What the hell do you mean again?"
Arav swallowed. "Four vehicles. All seized. Not just drugs—there were weapons... and cash. One of the convoy leaders was captured alive. Actually—all four were. And they're already in CBI custody. Rex, he dodged the trap. Kiaan didn't go to Dover. He took the Ashford route. We didn't see that coming."
Rex stood up slowly, his eyes no longer sleepy. His silence was louder than shouting.
He walked to the window, staring into the blackness of the night as city lights flickered below. His jaw tightened as the pieces clicked together like a sinister puzzle.
> "Ashford wasn't even marked. That route was a ghost. No one had touched it for years."
Arav nodded, breathless. "Exactly. And somehow… he sniffed it. Without tech. Without the phone. No digital trail. He acted purely on instinct."
Rex turned, crushing the remains of his cigar into the tray.
> "That boy..."
He muttered, lips curving not in frustration—but interest. His voice low, dark, amused.
> "He's not just playing smart. He's dancing in the dark. And he's stepping on my toes deliberately."
---
Meanwhile – Near the Ashford Intercept Point
Flashing red-and-blue lights painted the old shipping terminal in chaotic strobes. The air smelled like rust, dust… and exposed secrets. Four massive trucks sat parked, all surrounded by CBI agents, their drivers lined up against the wall, handcuffed, shivering—not from the cold, but from the knowledge of who they had betrayed.
Kiaan walked in slowly, jacket dusted with ash and wind, his eyes hard. Dev and Rehaan were interrogating one of the drivers, while Tara coordinated the forensic teams collecting evidence from the compartments stacked with AK-47s, narcotics, and thick bundles of foreign cash.
Rehaan looked at Kiaan, half laughing in disbelief.
> "Four trucks. Four men in custody. And we didn't lose a single agent tonight."
Dev added, "You really weren't bluffing when you said not to take the bait."
Kiaan crouched beside one of the crates, scanning it carefully, then muttered:
> "Rex sleeps in silk and marble. Tonight, let him sleep with fire in his gut."
Tara joined him, whispering, "You think he'll retaliate?"
Kiaan didn't answer immediately. He stood, slowly, brushing his hands.
> "He's not used to losing. Definitely not twice in a row. His pride's louder than his empire."
Rehaan chuckled. "Then I guess we just declared war on his pride."
Just then, one of the drivers broke under pressure and screamed, "Please—don't hand us over! You don't know him. He'll find us! You don't understand what he'll do!"
Kiaan turned to him, cold and silent.
> "No. You don't understand what I will do if you don't talk."
His voice sliced through the air like a knife. The driver froze, then crumbled, sobbing.
Dev's phone buzzed. A message popped in.
He glanced at Kiaan. "The vehicles were marked under a fake company linked to an untraceable offshore shell—but we found something."
He handed the phone to Kiaan. A blurry photo. A name.
> "One of the side crates was branded: 'BLX Holdings – Malta'."
Kiaan's fingers curled around the phone.
Rehaan whispered, "Rex… is getting sloppy."
But Kiaan smiled darkly.
> "No. He's getting comfortable. Time to make him bleed from the shadows he hides in."
And somewhere across the sea in Swindon, as the night deepened, Rex sat staring at a shattered glass he had hurled across the floor.
For the first time in a long time…
The hunter felt a chill run down his spine.
The prey was no longer running.
The prey was now… hunting back.