Arvind Malhotra's eyes slowly opened.
The first sensation—
cold.
The second—
iron restraints biting into his wrists, fused to the arms of the chair.
He jerked instinctively.
Nothing moved.
"Who are you?"
His voice carried fear,
but his ego was still alive.
"Where is this place?
Why have you brought me here?"
His gaze fell on a shadow seated in front of him.
Rohan.
Upright.
Calm.
No emotion in his eyes—
as if the man sitting before him
wasn't human at all.
"How did you enter my house?"
Arvind snapped.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?
This will shake the entire country."
Rohan didn't respond.
He simply rose slowly from the chair.
---
FLASHBACK — ARVIND MALHOTRA'S HOUSE
High boundary walls.
Thermal cameras.
Private security—trained, armed, alert.
The first guard collapsed near the gate—
without a sound.
On the second floor, CCTV screens
went dark one by one.
A long corridor.
Two guards.
The lights flickered.
When the illumination returned—
both men lay on the floor.
Breathing.
Unconscious.
The bedroom door opened.
Arvind Malhotra turned—
and then…
darkness.
---
PRESENT — CONSTRUCTION SITE
"What do you want?"
Arvind said, forcing control into his voice.
"Money?
I can give you that."
Rohan spoke for the first time.
"Where are they?"
"W-who?"
Arvind laughed—
a strained, artificial sound.
"Enough of this drama.
Take me home properly.
You don't know who you're dealing with."
His voice grew louder.
"There are extremely powerful people behind me.
The entire country will erupt.
You will be hunted down."
Rohan replied calmly—
"Yes.
I want to know about those very powerful people."
Arvind's expression hardened.
"What are you trying to say?"
Rohan pulled a tablet from his pocket
and turned on the screen.
A video played.
Hebi.
A low-light briefing room.
She stood between multiple screens—
calm, razor-sharp.
"The chairman of Northline Corp
is the backbone of a terrorist supply network."
Containers.
Chemical barrels.
Routes.
Names blurred—
but the pattern was crystal clear.
Arvind's face turned pale.
Then… white.
"This is nonsense,"
he said immediately.
"No one will trust this woman."
He spoke rapidly.
"I can give you whatever you want.
Money. Power. Connections.
Just let me go."
Rohan turned the tablet off.
"Where are they?"
Arvind clenched his teeth.
"You can't scare me with videos."
Rohan opened a metal box placed beside him.
Inside—
tools.
Some sharp.
Some heavy.
Some designed to ask
no questions.
Arvind's breathing became erratic.
"W-what… what are you going to do?"
His voice cracked.
Rohan didn't answer.
A few seconds later—
on the concrete floor beside the chair
lay something small.
Arvind's fingernails.
A sound escaped Arvind's throat—
half scream, half breath.
Rohan remained completely calm.
A few more seconds passed.
Another sound.
This one louder.
Then—
Arvind broke.
"Enough! Please!"
He was nearly sobbing.
"I'll tell you everything."
He inhaled sharply.
"But promise me—
my name won't surface.
And you'll let me live."
Rohan nodded once.
"Speak."
Arvind lowered his gaze.
"About forty-two kilometers outside Amritsar,"
he said, each word heavy.
"After leaving the GT Road,
the Majitha–Fatehgarh Churian link road."
"There's a dirt track—
about three kilometers inward."
Rohan stayed silent.
"There's a farmhouse there,"
Arvind continued, his voice fading.
"People know it as Greenfield Farmhouse."
"From the outside, it's just farmland.
And an abandoned storage shed."
He paused.
"But beneath that shed
is a reinforced basement."
A faint glint appeared in Rohan's eyes.
"That's where they stay,"
Arvind swallowed hard.
"Meetings.
Storage.
Shipment planning—
everything happens there."
His voice dropped further.
"I don't just provide the place,"
he whispered.
"I personally meet
those terrorist organization members."
"Money, routes, protection—
I manage it all."
A brief silence.
"Greenfield Farmhouse is under my control,"
Arvind said quietly.
"I run 'experiments' there."
He closed his eyes.
"Synthetic drugs.
Distributed through those groups
across the border."
"Despite being so close to Amritsar,
the police never go there…"
His final words emerged broken—
"Because I bought the system
long ago."
Rohan closed the metal box.