A Visit to Shristi's Hometown
The trip back had been exhausting, but Wick barely acknowledged it. His focus was singular-finding Shristi. But as they returned, she was nowhere to be found.
It was Vaibhav who hesitantly informed him, "She left for home. She's not here."
Wick didn't react outwardly, but Nick could see the change in his eyes. He was disappointed.
Two days later, Wick and Nick found themselves in Shristi's hometown, wandering the unfamiliar streets. The city felt foreign, but Wick moved with silent determination, scanning every face, every corner, hoping to find her.
"This is useless," Nick sighed after a while. "Let's book a hotel and figure things out tomorrow."
Wick nodded, though his mind was elsewhere.
---
A Dangerous Encounter
Unable to rest, Wick left the hotel alone and continued searching. When tracing Shristi's phone proved futile, he resorted to wandering. That's when he heard the commotion.
A group of men surrounded someone in an alleyway, their fists mercilessly landing on him. Wick would have walked away-he wasn't one to interfere in every fight. But fate had other plans.
A thug bumped into him carelessly. Wick stopped, his sharp gaze locking onto the man.
"Apologize," Wick demanded, his tone low but firm.
The man scoffed, but another thug quickly nudged him. "Just say sorry and move on."
With reluctance, the man muttered an apology, but Wick wasn't done. His blood was already boiling. Before they could react, he threw the first punch.
The first blow came without warning.
Wick's fist slammed into the first thug's jaw, a thunderous crack echoing down the alley. The man crumpled immediately, folding sideways like a puppet with cut strings.
The second lunged, a rusted chain swinging toward Wick's head.
Wick ducked, one smooth step forward, and drove his knee up into the man's stomach, lifting him off his feet with the sheer force of it. Before the thug could collapse, Wick grabbed his collar and threw him headfirst into the brick wall-a dull, sickening thud marking his fall.
The third and fourth came together, yelling, hoping to overwhelm him.
Bad idea.
Wick sidestepped the first, grabbed his wrist mid-punch, and twisted sharply, snapping the bone with a gruesome crack. The man screamed, but Wick wasn't done-he used the broken arm as leverage to flip him into the second attacker, the two bodies colliding violently and tumbling to the ground in a tangle of pain.
The fifth man, bigger than the rest, roared and charged with a metal pipe.
Wick didn't flinch.
He moved inside the swing-close, lethal-catching the thug's wrist and breaking it with a sharp twist. The pipe clattered to the ground. Wick snatched it mid-fall and swung it low, striking the man's knee. The thug collapsed with a roar of agony, but Wick finished him with a brutal elbow to the temple. The man dropped, silent.
The sixth thug hesitated. Fear flickered in his eyes.
He turned to run.
Wick caught him by the back of the shirt, yanked him back with terrifying strength, and slammed his head against the alley wall-once, twice-until he, too, slid down unconscious.
The alley fell silent.
Wick stood there, barely breathing hard, surrounded by broken bodies. His hands were bloodied, his knuckles raw, but his eyes were colder than ever.
Every move he made had been calculated.
No wasted energy. No unnecessary strikes.
Precision. Brutality. Control.
A ghost in human form.
Breathing heavily, Wick turned to the bloodied man who had been their victim.
"Why were they beating you?" Wick asked, his voice calmer now.
The man, trembling, managed to say, "They... they took my niece. Please, help me... I'll do anything."
Wick's expression darkened. "Where did they take her?"
The man gave him an address. In return, Wick had one condition. "Give me the address of a girl(Shristi)I'm looking for," he said.
The man nodded desperately.
---
A Hero in the Shadows
When Wick arrived at the location, it was a den of criminals.
The steel door creaked open as Wick stepped into the dimly lit warehouse.
As he approached, he saw a girl struggling as she was dragged away, her mouth covered to muffle her cries.
His eyes scanned the shadows-twenty men, spread across the room like vultures, armed with pistols, knives, crowbars, and makeshift weapons. Crates stacked like towers. Chains hung from the rafters. Flickering overhead lights threw jagged shadows across the walls.
His anger flared.
"Let. Her. Go."
One of the men sneered. "Or what? We'll kill her."
Wick's gaze turned ice cold. "What do you think she is? Your property? Try touching the innocent girl, and I'll make sure you regret it."
He exhaled, slow.
They surrounded him.
No words.
Just violence.
The first thug rushed him with a knife.
He didn't wait for a response.
Wick moved before they could react.
He sidestepped, grabbed the man's wrist mid-swing, twisted sharply-bone snapped-and turned the knife against him, burying it in his gut.
Another charged from behind. Wick ducked, swept his leg, and while he fell, used the momentum to drive the corpse's pistol into his hand.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Three shots,
One to the shoulder-gun drops.
One to the thigh-man collapses, howling.
One to the palm-weapon disarmed.
Blood splattered the walls.
Five down in eight seconds.
A metal pipe came swinging at his head.
Wick ducked, jammed the muzzle of his gun under the attacker's chin, and fired-brains hit the ceiling.
He spun, tossed the empty pistol at a man's face, stunning him, then caught his gun mid-air as it fell and shot him point-blank in the chest.
Seven down.
The fight was swift and merciless.
---
Two men tried to corner him near the crates. Wick backed into a tight alleyway of boxes. Mistake?
No. His trap.
As one entered, Wick slammed the crate door into his face-teeth cracked-grabbed a nearby steel chain, whipped it around the man's neck, and pulled until his feet kicked empty air.
The second swung wildly. Wick ducked, caught his wrist, and slammed his head into the crate corner three times until it left a bloody dent.
Nine down.
One by one, the kidnappers fell, their confidence crumbling as Wick tore through them.
Another came barreling in with a crowbar.
Wick kicked a broken table leg up with his foot, caught it mid-air, and jammed it through the man's shoulder, pinning him to the wall.
He snatched the crowbar, spun around, and cracked the skull of the man charging behind him.
Eleven.
Gunfire erupted from across the room. Wick dropped low, rolled behind cover, yanked a dead body by the collar to shield himself, and returned fire.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
One shot clipped a man's leg-he screamed and fell.
Wick didn't miss the second time. Straight to his palm.
Two others fell before they could reload.
Fifteen down.
The last five hesitated. Wick's calm, deliberate walk toward them made their hands shake.
"Don't move," one yelled, gun trembling.
Wick didn't stop.
He tossed a flashbang he'd picked up from a fallen belt-boom! Light exploded. They staggered, blind.
Wick closed the distance.
Snap! He broke one's wrist and used his own gun to shoot him in the stomach.
Ducking low, he tackled the second into the ground and crushed his windpipe with his knee.
The third raised a shotgun-Wick grabbed the barrel, pushed it aside as it fired into the wall, spun behind him, and sabotage him to unconscious.
Two left.
One bolted.
Wick threw a knife-clean throw-it sank into the back of his skull before he reached the door.
The final one, the biggest, dropped his weapon and backed away.
"I-I surrender."
Wick stared, emotionless. "You touched the girl."
He stepped forward, grabbed the man by the collar, and slammed his head into the wall-once, twice-until the man stopped breathing for a moment.
Silence fell.
Twenty men groaned across the warehouse.
Some unconscious. Some clutching shattered bones.
All of them breathing. All of them defeated.
Wick stood tall. Calm. Only bruises and blood not his own.
He didn't say a word.
He didn't need to.
By the time he was done, the girl had lost consciousness.
The girl, unconscious, tied and bruised,face buried in a mask-but alive.
He gently untied her,
The man Wick had helped arrived just in time, tears streaming down his face as he carried his niece away.
"You saved her... I owe you everything."
"Just keep your word," Wick replied.
And with that, Wick vanished into the night, leaving behind a warehouse of shattered pride, broken bones, and one haunting question in every thug's mind.
---
The Search for Shristi
Back at the hotel, Nick was waiting, his concern evident.
"You're hurt," Nick pointed out. "What happened?"
Wick, wiping blood off his knuckles, simply said, "Nothing."
Nick wasn't convinced. "You've changed, you know? Helping strangers like this... the old you wouldn't have."
Wick gave a faint smirk. "I did it for the address."
Later that night, Wick received a text. The man had kept his promise.
---
Meeting the Family
The next morning, Wick hesitated in front of Shristi's house-a grand villa with guards at the gate.
"This is getting weird," he muttered.
Nick grinned. "Don't worry. I've got your back."
They introduced themselves as Shristi's friends and were granted entry, but the moment they stepped inside, her second brother bombarded them with questions.
"Who are you?"
"Why are you here?"
"Are you my sister's boyfriend?"
"If yes, then who's the other guy?"
"Are you two gay?"
Wick clenched his fists, his patience snapping. "Could you just stop already?"
His voice echoed through the villa, silencing everyone. Doors opened, heads peeked out, and within moments, the entire household was gathered.
Shristi hurried over, introducing them to her family.
Her father stepped forward, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you for saving my daughter."
Wick assumed he meant the incident at college. "I only did what was right," he replied humbly.
Her father clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come, you both must be tired. Let's get you settled."
Shristi and her sister, Sona, led them to their rooms.
---
Unspoken Emotions
As they reached the room, Shristi finally turned to Wick.
"Why did you come here?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.
"Just to visit," Wick replied nonchalantly.
A small smile played on her lips. "Thank you... for saving me."
She left before he could respond.
Nick, watching the exchange, smirked. "Man, you're hopeless."
---
Sona, Shristi's younger sister, practically bounced with excitement.
"You guys are so cool!" she exclaimed.
Wick chuckled. "So, you're the little angry bird?"
Sona crossed her arms. "Nope. Unlike my grumpy sister, I'm unique."
Nick laughed. "Thank God. Nice to meet someone with a sense of humor. My brother's brain is fried like a potato."
Sona's eyes twinkled with mischief. "So, which one of you is my sister's boyfriend?"
Both Nick and Wick went silent.
Sona smirked. "Oh, so she's still with that coward Vivaan?"
Wick's expression darkened slightly. "I don't think so."
Sona grinned. "Good. Never liked that guy. So, how did you save her?"
Wick shrugged. "By using my brain... and teaching some people a lesson."
Sona giggled. "I like you guys already. Get some rest. I'll be back later to annoy you."
As they settled in, Wick learned something that made his fists clench-Shristi's real mother had passed away, and her stepmother treated her cruelly, favoring her own son instead.
Nick noticed the change in his expression. "What's wrong?"
Wick didn't answer, but his jaw tightened.
Shristi had already suffered enough. He wasn't going to let her go through more.
---
To Be Continued...