The monsoon rain battered Hyderabad's police headquarters in Banjara Hills, a concrete fortress swallowed by the night's chaos. Robin Seth stormed out, the sting of his slap to Aisha Seth still burning in his palm, her refusal to tell him about Tara's kidnapping a betrayal as sharp as their divorce. His smartwatch pinged, the health app tracking a racing pulse, but his Fighting instincts were a steady black flame. Tara, his five-year-old daughter, was in the claws of Rocky Bhai's Organization, the Trigger front masking their child trafficking ring. The Hunters' cautious plan—an undercover agent, no action—felt like surrender to Robin. He was done waiting.
In his car, speeding through rain-soaked streets, Robin dialed Arjun Desai, an old ally from his Don Robin days. "Arjun, the Rao Gang—Vikram Rao's crew—runs Hyderabad's ports," Robin said, voice low. "Rocky Bhai's trafficking kids by sea. Confirm it."
Arjun's voice crackled through. "Rao control Visakhapatnam shipping, Don Robin. Vikram Rao's got eyes on every dock. If Trigger's moving kids, he knows." Arjun paused. "Be careful—Vikram's not the forgiving type."
Robin's jaw tightened. "Neither am I." He gunned the engine toward Charminar Villa, the Rao Gang's fortress in the Old City, a sprawling compound behind iron gates and armed guards. Tara's face—her stuffed bear, her tiny hand waving in the surveillance footage—drove him. He'd tear the underworld apart to find her.
At the villa's gates, a dozen guards in black kurtas blocked his path, rifles glinting under floodlights. "No entry," one barked, hand on his holster. "Vikram Rao sees no one."
Robin's eyes narrowed. "Tell him Don Robin's here." When the guard laughed, Robin moved—swift, lethal, his Fighting instincts a blur. A kick disarmed the first, a palm strike dropped the second, and within moments, ten guards lay groaning, their rifles scattered. The last two froze, then opened the gate, fear in their eyes.
Inside, Charminar Villa's opulent halls dripped with wealth—marble floors, gold-trimmed walls—but the air was thick with menace. Vikram Rao, the Rao's' boss, sat on a carved teak throne, his silk kurta pristine, his eyes cold. "Don Robin," he said, voice smooth but edged. "A decade gone, and you storm my home? Kneel, atone for this disrespect, or you'll regret it."
Robin stood tall, his black jacket dripping rain. "Kneel? For you, Vikram? I'm here for my daughter, taken by Trigger—Rocky Bhai's dogs. You run the ports. Tell me where they're shipping her."
Vikram's laugh was sharp, his hand signaling. Anil, his B-level bodyguard, stepped forward—a mountain of muscle with scars like war medals. "Boss says kneel," Anil growled, cracking his knuckles. "Or I break you."
Robin's Fighting instincts surged, his movements fluid. Anil lunged, fists like hammers, but Robin sidestepped, his parkour-honed agility a dance. A precise strike to Anil's knee dropped him, a follow-up elbow to the temple sent him sprawling. The room stilled, Vikram's guards tensing, but his raised hand stopped them.
"Impressive," Vikram said, his tone grudging. "Don Robin's still got fire. But the Rao's are clean—law-abiding traders now. Trigger's filth isn't ours." His eyes flickered, a hint of deceit Robin caught.
"Don't lie," Robin said, voice lethal. "Your ports, your ships—Trigger's using them. Where's their sea route? Visakhapatnam? Tell me, or I'll tear this villa apart."
Vikram's smile tightened, his fingers tapping the throne. "You're bold, Don Robin. But push too hard, and Naga will hear of it."
Back at the police headquarters, Aisha sank into a chair, her cheek still stinging from Robin's slap. The surveillance footage of Tara's abduction looped, a knife in her heart. "He can't save her," she muttered, dismissing Robin's vow. "He's just grandstanding."
Anna Fernandes, in her salwar kameez, glared. "Aisha di, Robin sir's Tara's best chance. You're letting pride blind you." Her defiance, rooted in guilt for not watching Tara, cut deep.
Vikram Malhotra, hovering nearby, hid his glee behind a mask of concern. "Aisha, Robin's reckless," he said, his voice honeyed. "The Hunters are professionals—trust them." His texts to Rocky Bhai—"Keep the girl hidden"—ensured Tara stayed gone, clearing his path to Aisha's empire. His jealousy of Robin burned, his ambition sharper than ever.
Captain Manoj Singh, coordinating with the Hunters, approached. "Ms. Seth, our agent's close to Trigger's base, but a bounty's dangerous. Rocky Bhai's crew kills to cover tracks." Ravi Mehta, the Hunters' operative, nodded. "Give us time, ma'am."
Aisha's eyes flashed. "Time? My daughter's with monsters!" Her plan for a 20 million bounty wavered, the Hunters' warning sinking in.
Across town, Priya Reddy, stood outside Charminar Villa, her phone buzzing with Sanjay Gupta's updates. "Robin sir, Sanjay's team hacked port logs," she texted. "They are active—Trigger's moving tonight." Robin faced Vikram Rao, his gaze unyielding. "You know Trigger's route. Talk, or I'll bring Naga and Rocky Bhai's war to your door." His Don Robin past—underworld favors, old allies—was his weapon.
Vikram's eyes narrowed, a crack in his facade. "Check Visakhapatnam's east dock, midnight," he said, voice low. "But if you cross me, Don Robin, you'll pay."
Robin turned, his mission clear. As he exited, Priya joined him. "Sanjay's got a boat ready," she said, smirking. "Let's burn Rocky Bhai's dogs."
Was Vikram Rao tied to Rocky Bhai or Naga? Tara's life hung on the answer, and the sea was calling. His war was a race against time.