Sohel looked up sharply, spotting Naser casually seated in a chair in front of the control panel, his posture relaxed, almost smug. Two burly men finished tying Naomi and Sohel's hands tightly behind their backs before roughly shoving them into a sitting position beside Jacob and Mitali, who were similarly restrained. The faint fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting long shadows in the cramped control room.
Sohel's voice was strained but steady. "Why are you doing this? Weren't you... our friend?"
Naser's lips curled into a cold, cruel smile. "Looks like you really believed my performance yesterday. Did you honestly think I amassed all this wealth in just three years by selling a few classified documents? Ha! I'm the manifestation of greed—my lord's right hand—and I intend to live up to that title fully."
Mitali's voice cracked with anger and disbelief. "What the fuck are you talking about? Do you even hear yourself?"
Naser threw his head back and laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed in the room. "Oh, I'm very aware of what I'm saying. After living the harsh reality of having nothing, I was given a golden opportunity. A chance to have it all. And I'm not about to let that go to waste."
Sohel's eyes narrowed. "How did you get out? How did you pull all this off?"
Naser's grin widened as he leaned back, the arrogance radiating from him. "You really thought I was alone in this? Foolish. I suppose I can tell you. You're all going to die soon anyway. Might as well pass the time."
---
Six Hours Earlier
Pabna Police Station
OC Das strode into the station with purpose. Moments later, four stern-faced soldiers escorted a handcuffed Naser through the hallway and threw him into a dim, grimy cell. The cell was Spartan—a worn mattress on one side and a rusty toilet in the corner, barely lit by a flickering bulb overhead.
Naser dropped onto the mattress, burying his face in his hands. The door slammed shut. After a brief pause, OC Das approached the cell door with a smirk.
"How's the five-star resort treating you, Mr. Naser? Make yourself comfortable; you're going to be here a long time."
Naser remained silent, shoulders shaking slightly. OC Das turned away, irritated by the lack of response. What he didn't notice was the faint smile hidden beneath Naser's hands.
Hours later, a rugged Land Rover Defender pulled up outside the station. Four men in crisp military office uniforms stepped out and entered the station with an air of authority. After a terse conversation with OC Das, the soldiers returned and ordered the sentry to open the cell.
The four men took custody of Naser, uncuffing him quietly as they loaded him into the vehicle.
Naser's eyes gleamed with dark excitement. "Are the preparations complete?"
The lead man nodded firmly. "Yes, boss. We strike at 0830 sharp tomorrow."
Naser's grin was merciless. "Good. I'll be there myself. Time to repay an old friend."
---
Present Time
Jacob's brow furrowed, confusion and suspicion clouding his voice. "If you were behind all this... then what about Lu Shen?"
Naser threw his head back and laughed uncontrollably. "Oh, come on. How dumb can you be? You stormed in here to catch someone without even verifying his involvement. Lu Shen was involved—at first. But when the boss takes over, the subordinates fall back. After I'm done here, he'll be the perfect scapegoat. Though I must admit, he did a fine job drawing SNA's attention so I could prepare."
Sohel's voice was cold steel. "Why are you doing this?"
Naser's eyes glittered with greed. "Didn't I tell you? I want everything. If I can get my hands on the uranium here... imagine the fortune I could make selling it."
Jacob sneered. "So at the end of the day, you're just a petty thief."
That insult was the final straw. Naser sprang up, looming over Jacob. With savage force, he punched Jacob square in the stomach. Jacob doubled over, gasping for air. Naser continued to land brutal blows, each punch harder than the last, until Jacob collapsed to the floor, coughing blood.
Naomi and Mitali screamed at Naser to stop, tears streaming down their faces, but he paid them no mind.
Sohel sat silently, jaw clenched, fists trembling with fury—his entire being burning with the desire for justice.