The dim underground chamber echoed with cries of pain and despair. Men, battered and broken, collapsed in a grim tableau of fear and submission. Blood soaked the cold concrete floor as some weakly tried to rise, only to be shoved back down by harsh, unforgiving boots. Their muffled sobs and desperate pleas filled the air, a haunting chorus of hopelessness.
Overseeing the brutal scene with a dark, unyielding gaze was Reyaan Malhotra—Rex. Leaning against the chipped wall, the faint glow of a cigarette lit his sharp features. He took a slow, deliberate drag, the smoke curling around him like a shadowy cloak. His eyes never left the trembling men; every shudder, every whimper, was a message — a warning to anyone who dared defy him.
Beside him stood his ever-loyal assistant, Zay, who wiped sweat from his brow, the weight of the chaos pressing down on him. "Boss," Zay spoke low, cautious not to break the dangerous silence, "as you ordered… one of the men, Zid, joined the agent team today. He's already embedded deep."
Rex's eyes narrowed, the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. A slow, cold smile crept across his face. "Good. Let them think they can handle him. Let them feel safe for a moment."
He flicked the ash to the floor and crushed it beneath his boot, the sound echoing sharply like a verdict. "Zid's no ordinary soldier. He's a blade hidden in plain sight. His eyes see everything, and his hands can silence any whisper."
Zay nodded, watching the men below with a mixture of fear and respect. "They're breaking fast, boss. No one will forget this day."
Rex stepped forward, voice cutting through the gloom like ice. "That's the point. Fear is a tool, a message in blood and bone. If they remember nothing else, they'll remember this—who rules the shadows beneath Sunderland."
He crushed the cigarette stub underfoot and turned his gaze back to the trembling group. "And if any of them breathe a word of Zid's mission… I will make sure they regret it until their last breath."
Zay swallowed hard but didn't speak, knowing better than to question Rex's ruthless plans. The air was thick with dread and the promise of merciless control.
Rex took another drag of his cigarette and whispered to himself, "Soon, Kiaan won't just be watched… he'll be hunted."
The underground grew quieter, the broken men left to their misery as Rex's presence loomed like a dark storm—unseen but utterly unstoppable.