The warm aroma of roasted beans and faint jazz music wrapped around the four as they slid into a corner booth of the quiet coffee shop just two blocks from HQ. Outside, the evening sun was dipping behind the skyline, casting long shadows across the glass windows. Inside, tension hung among them thicker than the steam swirling from their cups.
Tara Iyer opened her laptop with a tired sigh, fingers dancing swiftly across the keys. "I've been digging into the name we heard today," she said, eyes fixed on the screen. "Reyaan Malhotra… also known in the underground world as 'Rex'."
Dev raised a brow. "Sounds like a Bond villain."
Rehaan scoffed, stirring his coffee. "If only he was that simple."
Tara turned the screen toward them. "No photo. No concrete trace. Every legal record shows clean business fronts. Hotels, logistics, luxury real estate. But behind those walls... all whispers." Her voice lowered. "Weapons trade, international money laundering, several suspected murders—but never proved. Interpol flagged him years ago but couldn't keep him on the radar."
Kiaan leaned in, jaw tight. The scrolling lines on the screen were frustratingly vague.
> "You're telling me the man behind an entire mall filled with illegal weapons and drugs has never been photographed or pinned down by any agency?"
"Not officially," Tara said. "Only stories. Strange ones. Like he operates with an army in silence. Loyal men, always in black. Clean work. Fear-based control. Even his rivals vanish without a trace."
Dev exhaled. "And now we just slapped a warrant on his doorstep."
Rehaan chuckled darkly. "And told him to come out and play."
Kiaan sat back, wincing slightly as the bandage on his shoulder tugged against his shirt. He closed his eyes for a second. The throb of the bullet wound had dulled to a burn, but what weighed heavier was the mess unraveling in front of him.
> "I can't go home like this," he muttered. The others looked at him.
"What do you mean?" Tara asked.
"I mean," Kiaan opened his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck, "my mother and Shaurya still think I'm in tech consulting. Sitting behind a desk. I show up with half my shoulder torn open from a bullet, what the hell do I even tell them?"
Rehaan leaned forward, smirking. "Tell them you got into a bar fight?"
"With a sniper rifle?" Kiaan deadpanned.
They laughed, but only for a second.
> "Can I crash at your place for two days?" Kiaan asked, turning to Dev. "Just until this settles. I need time to figure out what I'm going to tell them."
Dev nodded without hesitation. "Of course. My sofa's yours. Or the bed, I'll take the floor."
"Don't be dramatic," Kiaan said with a small smile. "Just don't snore."
Tara leaned back in her seat, sipping her drink. "You know the directors were right in one way. We need to tread carefully. Rex isn't someone we can catch like Rudhra or Viper. He's… built different."
> "So are we," Kiaan said softly, almost to himself.
They fell silent. The world outside moved like it always did—people walked, cars honked, lights turned green—but inside that quiet coffee shop, four agents sat on the edge of something far darker than what they'd faced before.
Kiaan's eyes stayed fixed on Tara's laptop screen. A blank profile. No image. No footprint. Just whispers.
> "We'll find him," he whispered. "Ghost or not."
And from the depth of his gaze, the others knew—Kiaan wouldn't stop. Not now. Not ever.