Kiaan's boots echoed against the HQ marble floor, sharp and crisp like his thoughts. The file was gripped tightly in his hand as he approached the operations desk. Dev and Rehaan were leaning over some reports, but the moment they saw Kiaan's face, both stood upright—alert."Meeting room. Now," Kiaan said firmly without slowing down. "We've got a new case. And it's ticking."They didn't question. They followed.Just as he turned the corridor, Tara approached with her usual calmness and sharp gaze, holding her tablet and coffee. "You called a meeting?"
Kiaan didn't stop, didn't soften. "Not this time, Tara. Your name isn't on the operation file."She blinked, slightly taken aback. "Kiaan, you usually don't go selective unless—""If I need you, I'll call. You know I will," he said simply, his voice cold but not cruel, before disappearing through the glass doors of the meeting room, leaving Tara standing there with a mix of curiosity and concern.
---
Inside the Meeting Room – HQ
The room dimmed automatically as the display screen flickered on. Kiaan dropped the case file onto the table, its pages spreading out like shards of evidence waiting to be assembled. Dev took the seat beside him, Rehaan on the other end, arms folded, already sharp-eyed.Kiaan stood, rolling up his sleeves as he pointed at the primary image—an overhead shot of the duffel bag intercepted at Swindon International. "This was caught last night in customs. A Royic Airlines flight from Bangkok. Sealed in a branded black duffel. 3.6 kilos of designer synthetic.""Royic?" Rehaan raised an eyebrow. "That's a clean carrier. Diplomats and high-profile cargo.""Exactly," Kiaan said with a slow nod. "Which is why this case comes with a hidden leash. The higher-ups want it closed fast. Neatly. Politely."Dev narrowed his eyes. "So why are we opening it?""Because something's off," Kiaan continued, tapping the flight manifest. "Half the passenger list is redacted. Customs flagged it, but the moment it hit our desk, the pressure came in."Kiaan paused, then looked up. "This smells like more than just a drug shipment. If Royic's being used… this could be part of a tunnel we've never seen before."Rehaan leaned forward, interest piqued. "You thinking smuggling chain? Maybe laundering routes?""I'm thinking cover operation," Kiaan replied. "Maybe something darker. But first, we confirm."
He clicked the next slide—a floor plan of the airport cargo hold. "We're going to the airport. Today. We do a full sweep of Royic's flight logs, manifests, cargo bays. Talk to the ground staff. Inspect their VIP check-ins. Every inch."Dev grinned slightly. "You're not planning on knocking politely, are you?"
Kiaan smirked. "No. But we won't kick the door in either. Not yet. Let them think we're routine."Rehaan stood, cracking his neck. "Covert but thorough. Got it. When do we roll?"Kiaan snapped the file shut. "Two hours. Gear light. IDs clean. Rehaan, you handle the airport CCTV wing. Dev, you come with me to customs."He took a breath and looked at both of them with eyes sharper than ever. "Let's find out who's really flying under the radar. And this time—we do it before the higher-ups bury it."
As they exited the room, the tension thickened. Something about Royic wasn't right. And the deeper they dug, the more likely they'd uncover something that wasn't meant to be found.
Tara stood in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as she watched the trio disappear through the glass doors. Something wasn't right. Kiaan was sharp—brilliant even—but when he chose silence, it usually meant the storm was brewing before the sky even darkened. She didn't like being left in the dark, especially when the case reeked of something bigger.Meanwhile, outside the HQ, the black agency SUV pulled away like a ghost in daylight. The city of Swindon blurred past their windows, but inside the vehicle, it was all calculation.
Rehaan sat behind the wheel, glancing once in the mirror. "Heard Tara's footsteps stop as we left. She'll figure something out.""She always does," Dev muttered.Kiaan didn't respond. He was silent, staring ahead, thoughts spinning like machinery. As they reached Swindon International Airport, the three stepped out and flashed their ID cards. It wasn't loud. It wasn't threatening. Just a "routine sweep"—but each of their eyes was hunting for answers, not formalities.
---
Inside the Airport – Cargo Division
The staff, initially alert, relaxed the moment they were told it was a routine check.
Rehaan moved casually through the control room, requesting surveillance footage from the day of the flagged flight. He leaned over the young technician, pointing at timestamps, copying footages to a secure drive. His gaze, however, didn't miss the nervous glances between a few employees in the corner.Dev, meanwhile, chatted up the customs officials. "Ever had something like this go unnoticed before?" he asked one of them, a tired man in his forties.The officer shrugged. "Royic Airlines? Never. That airline's VIP cargo is mostly above clearance—diplomatic tags, sealed crates. Nobody wants to poke that bear."Kiaan was the last to speak. He stood with a female supervisor in the cargo bay, flipping through manifests from the previous three Royic flights."These crates here," Kiaan pointed, "they went unchecked?""Sir, Royic's clients are extremely high-profile. Government endorsements, foreign dignitaries… that bag being flagged was already a huge surprise for us."Kiaan's voice was calm. Too calm. "Surprises are often warnings in disguise, ma'am. We don't overlook them."Then came the moment.Rehaan returned, face unreadable. "Cross-referenced ownership records of Royic Airlines.""And?" Kiaan asked.Rehaan handed over the tablet. "Company is legally registered under Vihaan Roy."Kiaan's eyes narrowed.Dev blinked. "Vihaan Roy… as in the Vihaan Roy? That clean-cut billionaire with too many factories and zero scandal?"Rehaan gave a dry smile. "Looks like our dark prince just wore a polished crown."The three of them stood still for a moment. The weight of that name didn't just hint at business. It whispered deeper dangers. Vihaan Roy wasn't just a businessman—he was polished chaos. Known for his quiet presence at elite events, his philanthropic image, and now—covert links to a drug trail.Dev whistled low. "You're saying the man who donates to children's cancer hospitals is trafficking synthetic poison?"Kiaan stared ahead, his voice low. "No one wears a cleaner mask than the one hiding blood underneath."Rehaan added, "We need to go deeper. Look into his warehouses. His import-export contacts. If he's involved—he didn't do this alone."Kiaan gave a final glance at the loading dock and turned. "Time to dust off the masks. We just found the face behind the airline… and it's wearing too much cologne."They walked out silently, the shadows of the airport stretching long behind them.Outside, as the car door slammed shut, Kiaan looked at both of them. "This isn't just about drugs. This is the beginning of something else. And Vihaan Roy just officially made it personal."
The Royic Empire towered before them like a beast wrapped in glass and gold. Sleek, sterile, untouchably modern. It breathed power, whispered control, and its walls held stories no fingerprint could trace.Kiaan, Dev, and Rehaan stood at the reception, flashing their CBI IDs like silent warnings. A ripple passed through the lobby—the kind of ripple that silence makes before a storm. Employees turned heads, some trying not to stare, others whispering behind security desks. The three agents moved forward like ghosts in daylight, calm but eyes alert.They questioned the staff—each person painting the same too-perfect picture."Mr. Roy is a thorough man. Never raises his voice."
"He supports our families. Even sent gifts during the pandemic.""He's... strict, but generous. He's everything this company stands for."Too clean. Too polished. Like bleach after a murder.Rehaan raised an eyebrow. "These people sound like they're reading a script."Dev leaned in, murmuring, "Or they're terrified to say otherwise."Up on the top floor, behind a tinted glass door lined with silver patterns, Vihaan Roy stood in his office—calm and composed, a portrait of sophistication. His dark maroon shirt folded flawlessly into tailored grey slacks, and his sleeves were rolled just enough to show his Rolex and the edge of an intricate tattoo that disappeared beneath.He tapped away on his sleek black keyboard until his assistant burst in, her voice nervous."Sir… there are CBI officers in the building. They're asking for you."Vihaan's fingers froze mid-type. His jaw clenched, subtle but sharp.
"Who let them in?" he snapped, turning, his voice colder than marble.Before she could answer, the door clicked open again—this time with authority.Kiaan Verma walked in without blinking, holding out his ID like a blade. "CBI. We need your cooperation for a search, Mr. Roy."Vihaan's eyes flickered. He turned to face him fully now, and for a heartbeat—a breath—his vision burned into Kiaan's neck. There it was. That unmistakable mark. The bite. The bruise. The boy Reyaan had marked.Recognition danced in his eyes, but his lips curled into polite steel."Young man," Vihaan said, calm as poison, "without a warrant, you're trespassing."His assistant puffed up with misplaced confidence. "Exactly, sir! This is unacceptable! You cannot just storm into—"
But the door opened again.Rehaan and Dev stepped inside, the former flipping open a thin file folder and handing it silently to Kiaan. In one smooth move, Kiaan turned the page toward Vihaan."Special authorization from Director Arvind Bansal himself," Kiaan said flatly. "We're not just walking in—we're allowed to peel back the layers."Vihaan didn't answer.He didn't move.
Because his eyes—sharp, electric—had now locked onto Rehaan.That neck.
That same bite.And the boy who flinched when he saw him.The boy whose scent still clung to the corners of his memory.The night. The chaos. The need. The taste.
It hadn't been a dream. No, it was real. Both of them... Reyaan's boy and mine.Vihaan's smirk crept upward, dangerous and amused.
He raised a hand casually, stopping his assistant's protests mid-breath. "It's fine."
The assistant blinked. "But, sir—"Vihaan turned slightly, never breaking eye contact with Rehaan. "Let them search. I've got nothing to hide."Kiaan frowned slightly at the sudden cooperation, but nodded and gave Dev the signal. They began moving room to room.But Vihaan? He stayed still.And his eyes... they didn't leave Rehaan's body.
Not even once.Rehaan shifted uncomfortably, pulling his collar higher, sensing the weight of that gaze trailing down his spine like liquid fire.Kiaan glanced between them, suspicion narrowing his eyes.Something was off.Very off.And he wasn't just hunting drugs anymore—he was standing inside a maze with a devil who remembered the taste of his prey.