The rain-slicked runway was a dark mirror under the storm lamps. Anirudh Singh Rathore stepped off his custom-built Gulfstream, his tailored black suit shedding the drizzle like water off a granite statue. He hadn't bothered with an umbrella; the air itself seemed to bend away from him.
He was thirty minutes late, not because of the weather, but because he'd ordered the entire air traffic control network to halt commercial traffic and prioritize his flight path. Hundreds of planes and thousands of lives were idled because Anirudh refused to be inconvenienced. He felt no remorse, only the cold, sharp satisfaction of exercising control.
He got into the waiting motorcade, ignoring the frantic flashbulbs of the media who dared to wait for him. His silence was their terror.
Inside the luxury car, the secure line pulsed red on the internal screen—a color that meant crisis, desperation, and total surrender. Anirudh ignored the incoming call for a full minute, watching the city lights blur past, letting the desperation on the other end ferment.
Only when the timer hit zero did he tap the screen, bringing the frantic, broken voice of his subordinate into the silent cabin.
"The factory is gone, Your Highness. Burned to the foundation. My last division—everything. I don't know who ordered the hit, but they knew every single weak point."
Anirudh's expression was ice. "Gone?" He repeated the word, slow and deadly. "I gave you the protection guarantee, Mr. Desai. You gave me your loyalty. This is not a failure of security. This is a failure of anticipation."
He walked to his desk, picking up a pen. "I will give you five minutes to name every rival CEO, every politician, and every bank that ever opposed the Rathore Empire. Don't tell me who burned your building. Tell me who I am allowed to burn in return."
A choked sound came through the receiver. "I—I can't. My family is still in the city. They promised—"
Anirudh didn't wait. He spoke to Vikram, his assistant, who was a silent shadow in the room. "Trace the call. If he hangs up, send the coordinates to the cleanup crew. I don't keep loose ends, Vikram. Only consequences."
The voice on the line turned desperate, a torrent of names, dates, and locations. A full confession, a surrender of his entire life's work.
Anirudh hung up halfway through the list. The crisis was solved, the threat neutralized, and his terrified rival had just done all of Anirudh's homework for him.
He stepped out of the car, adjusting his cuffs. He looked at the executive tower looming above, his destination. The private elevator was already waiting. He didn't rush. He never rushed.
He stepped out of the elevator and into the executive corridor. The silence was immediate, absolute, and total.