Scene: Bound in Silence, Swallowed by the Dark
The sound of the cuffs locking behind his back echoed louder than any scream.
Kiaan didn't resist. Not when the two guards yanked him up from his knees. Not when one of them shoved his face forward, twisting his arms with unnecessary force before clamping cold, heavy handcuffs around his wrists. His veins pulsed beneath the pressure, his heart still calm—but eyes sharp, calculating every sound, every breath, every possible move.
But then came the blindfold.
Thick, black, tied tightly around his eyes, robbing him of the one thing he relied on more than his fists—clarity.
Behind him, Tara shouted, her voice breaking with desperation.
> "Kiaan! Don't—Don't do this!"
Dev cursed, pulling against his own restraints, fury in his eyes.
> "You bastards—he came on his own! This wasn't the damn deal!"
One of the masked men simply turned his head slightly and chuckled darkly.
> "The deal was with Rex. And Rex doesn't shake hands. He makes puppets dance."
Kiaan stayed quiet.
No emotion. No fear.
But every part of him was listening.
Footsteps… eight. No—ten.
Boots… steel-toed.
He could smell cheap cigar smoke mixed with engine oil.
They dragged him out of the club, tossed him like weightless cargo into a waiting black SUV. The vehicle's cold leather seats burned against his back through the thin fabric of his shirt.
The door slammed shut.
The tires screeched into the night.
He could hear Dev yelling in the distance, his voice swallowed by city noise and distance.
> "Kiaan! Don't trust him—whatever happens, don't—"
Silence.
And then the eerie, mechanical hum of rotor blades.
Kiaan's breath caught. A helicopter. This was more than a move. This was extraction.
He tried to memorize the direction of the sound, but the blindfold made the world spin sideways. His balance was slipping, and—
> "Hold him steady."
A hand clutched his jaw.
Then—
A sharp sting in his neck.
Something—cold and chemical—rushed into his bloodstream.
And then it turned hot. Scalding.
Kiaan gritted his teeth.
His skin burned, his muscles tensed, his breathing grew shallow. His heartbeat spiked like a drum gone mad.
> "What… what the hell did you inject—"
Words slurred. Mouth numb. Fingers trembling.
Everything started to fade. The noise of the rotors blurred into whispers.
The voices around him became slow motion.
> "Sir, he's out. Preparing descent."
His head slumped forward.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
And for the first time in years… Kiaan Verma fell.
Not in battle. Not in pride.
But into the hands of a man who had been waiting for this moment like a lion watching its prey tire out before the final pounce.