The flashing red and blue lights painted the river in restless color.
Police officers moved quickly, speaking into radios, escorting men into vehicles, sealing off parts of the dock. Reporters were gathering at the barricade, cameras raised like weapons.
Sibom stood beside Arjun, both of them silent.
The warehouse doors were still open behind them, the wind pushing through the hollow space like the aftermath of a storm.
"You okay?" Sibom asked quietly.
Arjun nodded, though his face was pale. "I've been better."
An officer approached them. "We'll need formal statements from both of you tomorrow."
Sibom nodded.
As the police car door shut on the man from the warehouse office, he looked through the glass directly at Sibom.
No anger.
No panic.
Just calculation.
And before the vehicle pulled away, he mouthed something.
*Not finished.*
Sibom felt it like a warning carved into his spine.
---
The next morning, the city felt different.
News headlines had exploded overnight:
**"Viral Video Leads to Dock Raid"**
**"Businessman Detained in Land Irregularity Investigation"**
**"College Dispute Uncovers Larger Network?"**
Sibom's phone hadn't stopped vibrating.
Messages of support.
Threats.
Unknown calls.
Arjun sat across from him at the dining table, staring at his tea.
"They'll try to spin this," Arjun said quietly.
"They already are."
One channel claimed the dock arrest was unrelated to the viral footage.
Another suggested it was a "misunderstanding."
Influence was already working behind the scenes.
Sibom's father turned off the TV. "You boys need to be careful. Powerful people don't fall easily."
Arjun looked at Sibom. "He wasn't the top."
Sibom knew.
The man had said it clearly.
*The roots are deeper.*
---
By afternoon, the narrative began shifting online.
Anonymous accounts started posting old photos of Sibom.
Trying to discredit him.
Comments accusing him of "seeking attention."
Arjun's social media was flooded with mixed reactions.
Some called him brave.
Others called him ungrateful for exposing his own family.
"Damage control," Arjun muttered.
Sibom checked his messages.
One stood out.
No profile picture.
No name.
Just a simple message:
*Meet tonight. Alone. If you want the full truth.*
Attached was a different location.
An old administrative building downtown.
Abandoned for years.
Arjun saw the message.
"Don't."
"You think I should ignore it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because this is how they pull you away from protection."
Sibom stared at the screen.
"But what if it's not them?"
Arjun hesitated.
"What if it's someone else involved?"
Silence.
That possibility felt heavier.
---
Evening fell with an uneasy calm.
Police had questioned them both earlier.
The dock incident was now officially under investigation.
But Sibom couldn't shake the feeling that something was unfinished.
At 8:17 PM, another message came from the same account.
*Time is limited.*
He stood up.
"I'm going."
Arjun grabbed his arm. "Are you insane?"
"Maybe."
"This could be a trap."
"It probably is."
"Then why go?"
Sibom looked at him steadily.
"Because someone out there wants to talk."
Arjun studied him for a moment.
Then exhaled sharply.
"I'm not letting you go alone."
"You shouldn't be seen with me right now."
"I don't care."
"You should," Sibom replied. "Your family name is already burning."
Arjun's jaw tightened.
"Fine," he said. "But I'll stay nearby."
Sibom didn't argue.
---
The old administrative building stood like a skeleton against the night sky.
Broken windows.
Peeling paint.
Faded government signage barely visible.
Streetlights flickered weakly nearby.
Sibom entered through the front doors.
They were unlocked.
Inside smelled of dust and damp paper.
Echoes followed every step.
"Hello?" he called quietly.
No answer.
He climbed a staircase slowly.
Second floor.
At the end of a long corridor, a single room had faint light inside.
He approached carefully.
The door was half open.
Inside stood a woman in her late twenties.
Sharp expression.
Confident posture.
Not someone he recognized.
"You came," she said calmly.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who's been waiting for this crack."
"Crack in what?"
She gestured for him to step inside.
He did.
The room was filled with old filing cabinets.
Stacks of folders lay open on a table.
"Your video exposed something important," she said.
"You're not with them?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"I investigate financial crimes."
Sibom stared at her.
"A journalist?" he asked cautiously.
She nodded slightly.
"Freelance. Independent."
"And how did you get my number?"
"You've been very visible."
Fair enough.
"What do you want?"
She slid a file across the table.
"Look."
He opened it.
Inside were photocopies of land agreements.
Signatures.
Transfer records.
Several company names repeated.
One of them matched the consortium Arjun had mentioned.
"These transfers began five years ago," she said quietly.
"Why tell me?"
"Because you forced them into movement."
"Movement?"
"They're shifting assets already. Covering tracks."
Sibom's chest tightened.
"So the dock arrest—"
"Was a branch," she finished. "Exactly what he told you."
"You know about that?"
She gave him a look.
"You're not the only one watching."
He closed the file slowly.
"Why not publish this yourself?"
"Because I need confirmation."
"From me?"
"From someone inside."
Arjun.
The realization was immediate.
"You want him to testify."
"I want him to confirm these signatures."
Sibom hesitated.
"That's dangerous."
She nodded calmly. "So is silence."
A loud noise echoed from downstairs.
Both of them froze.
Footsteps.
More than one.
The journalist's expression hardened.
"You weren't followed?"
"I don't think so."
The footsteps grew louder.
Heavy.
Organized.
Not random trespassers.
She moved quickly to turn off the light.
Darkness swallowed the room.
"Back door," she whispered.
They moved toward the rear exit of the building.
As they reached the staircase—
Flashlights cut through the corridor.
Voices echoed.
"Check upstairs."
Sibom's pulse spiked.
They weren't police.
No sirens.
No announcements.
Just controlled movement.
They slipped down the back stairwell quietly.
At the exit door, she stopped him.
"If you want to survive this," she whispered, "stop reacting. Start planning."
"What's your name?" he asked.
She hesitated for half a second.
"Meera."
Then she pushed the door open.
Cold night air rushed in.
They slipped out into an alley.
At the other end of the street, Sibom spotted Arjun waiting near a parked bike.
He ran toward him.
"Were those—?" Arjun began.
"Yes."
"Who is she?"
"Someone who wants to burn the whole forest."
Behind them, the building lights flickered on again.
Silhouettes appeared at the windows.
Watching.
Sibom felt the weight of it.
The game had changed again.
It wasn't just defense anymore.
It was exposure.
Arjun looked at him carefully.
"What now?"
Sibom stared back at the dark building.
"We stop playing reaction."
"And?"
"We go for the roots."
In the distance, a black car engine started.
Not rushing.
Not chasing.
Just moving into position.
The night felt heavier than ever.
And somewhere beyond the visible danger—
Someone powerful had just realized something.
The boy they tried to silence—
Was no longer acting alone.