WebNovels

Chapter 19 - Chapter 19: The Lieutenant's Reckoning

The restaurant's elegant hum faltered as the door swung open with a bang, heads turning toward the intrusion. In strode Shyam Anna, one of Basu Bhai's five top lieutenants—a broad-shouldered brute in a ill-fitting suit, his face scarred from old brawls, striding like he owned the world. Four goons flanked him, their eyes scanning for trouble. Shyam Anna's gaze locked on the table, zeroing in on Ishaan with a predatory smirk.

"There you are—the fake mystic," he growled, voice like grinding gravel, pointing a thick finger. "Basu Bhai sent me to deal with you. You think you can mess with his people? I'll beat you to a pulp, you worthless shit—right here, in front of your little girlfriend!"

Profanities flew like spit, each word laced with venom. Simi's face paled, her hand gripping the tablecloth. Basu Bhai's men? she thought, heart pounding. She knew the name—whispers of Mumbai's underworld don, a shadow over every deal, every fear. And Shyam Anna? One of his elite, a killer who'd crushed rivals without blinking. Ishaan can't fight this. We're done.

Deep leaned back, grinning ear to ear. "Told you, Simi—different league. Watch him get wrecked!"

Ishaan rose slowly, his posture relaxed, eyes meeting Shyam Anna's without a flicker. "Do you really have Basu Bhai's permission to be here? To talk to me like that?"

Shyam Anna barked a laugh, cracking his knuckles. "Basu Bhai himself sent me to deal with you, punk. You're dead meat—crawling out on your belly!"

Ishaan tilted his head. "Then confirm it. Call him. Tell him my name—Ishaan Ahuja—and ask if he sent you to beat me… or someone else."

Deep snorted. "Call? Basu Bhai would never send goons after me—my dad's his old friend! You're delusional, houseboy."

Shyam Anna sneered, pulling out his phone but ignoring the advice. "No need—Basu Bhai said handle the guy in front of Deep. That's you, idiot." He lunged, fist whistling through the air in a haymaker punch.

Ishaan's hand shot up, catching the wrist mid-swing, stopping it cold. The restaurant gasped as Shyam Anna's momentum halted, his arm locked. Before the goons could react, Ishaan twisted and slap—his free hand cracked across Shyam Anna's face, the impact echoing like a gunshot. The lieutenant staggered, knees buckling, crashing to the floor in a heap, blood trickling from his lip.

The goons surged forward, chairs scraping, but Ishaan was already moving. He grabbed Shyam Anna by the collar, hauling him up one-handed and slamming him against the wall, lifting until the man's toes dangled inches off the ground. Shyam Anna choked, face purpling, legs kicking futilely.

"Call him," Ishaan said, voice low and lethal, holding him aloft like a ragdoll. "Now."

The goons froze, hands hovering near pockets, but one glance at their boss—dangling helplessly—kept them rooted. "O-okay, okay!" Shyam Anna gasped, fumbling his phone with his free hand, dialing on speaker. It rang twice before Basu Bhai's gravelly voice boomed through.

"Shyam? Done already?"

Shyam Anna wheezed, held high. "Bhai… this guy… he's got me by the neck. Beat me down—one slap, and I'm on my knees. The goons too—he's not normal!"

Basu Bhai's tone sharpened. "What's the name of the person you're dealing with?"

"It's me," Ishaan said, leaning into the phone, his grip unyielding.

Silence, then Basu Bhai's voice exploded. "Shyam, you idiot! How dare you try to punch him? He's the one I respect most—My Savior! Beat the hell out of that Deep guy—break his legs! Then drag him to his father and break His Legs too!"

Shyam Anna's eyes bulged, phone slipping from numb fingers. "B-Bhai… I didn't know—"

"Shut up!" Basu roared. "You're lucky he's sparing you!"

Ishaan took the phone, voice calm. "Basu."

"Boss, I'm so sorry," Basu Bhai said, tone shifting to deference. "Didn't know it was you there. My men are hot-blooded—didn't brief 'em on your face yet. Won't happen again. I'll send pics, tell everyone: see him, obey like you obey me."

Ishaan nodded, though unseen. "Good. Spare Shyam—for now."

The call ended. Ishaan dropped Shyam Anna like discarded trash, the man crumpling in a cough. The goons backed away, hands up. Deep's face drained white, his bravado evaporating.

The restaurant's stunned silence shattered as Shyam Anna pushed himself up from the floor, blood trickling from his split lip, his massive frame trembling with a mix of pain and fury. He shot a glare at Deep, who shrank back in his chair, bravado evaporating. "You," Shyam Anna snarled, pointing a thick finger. "Beat the shit out of him—now!"

His goons surged forward, fists flying in a brutal storm. Deep yelped, chair toppling as punches landed—ribs cracking, face swelling under the onslaught. "Stop! Please!" he begged, but the blows rained down, relentless. "Take him—drag him to his car and haul him to his father's. Beat the old man too. If he calls anyone—cops, friends, whoever—beat them as well!"

The goons hauled the whimpering Deep away, his pleas echoing as they bundled him out the door. Shyam Anna turned to Ishaan, dropping to his knees, hands pressed together in a deep bow, forehead nearly touching the floor. "Boss… I'm sorry," he rasped, voice thick with shame. "I didn't know. I'll take care of it perfectly—no more worries from Deep, his family, to that girl. You have my word."

Ishaan waved a hand, his expression unchanging. "Go. Handle it clean."

Shyam Anna nodded, scrambling up and barking at his men to follow. The door slammed behind them, leaving the restaurant in hushed awe, waitstaff frozen mid-step.

Ishaan turned to Simi, who sat wide-eyed, her fierce facade cracked by raw relief. "Problem solved," he said simply.

Simi blinked, then surged forward, wrapping her arms around him in an impulsive hug. "You… you saved me," she whispered, pulling back with tears glistening. "Not just Dad, but this—energy, time, all that mental fatigue from Deep's games. I can breathe now. Thank you, Ishaan."

He nodded, a faint smile breaking through. "Glad to help."

"Now that we're here," Simi said, wiping her eyes with a determined grin, "let me treat you to lunch. My treat—proper thanks."

"I already ate with Ravi," Ishaan replied, shaking his head.

She crossed her arms, insistent. "Doesn't matter. You deserve it. If you say no, I'll feel guilty forever. Come on—one plate?"

Ishaan relented with a chuckle. "Fine. One plate."

They settled at a fresh table, the staff scurrying to clear the chaos. Simi ordered biryani and kebabs, then leaned in. "Tell me about you. How do you know Basu Dada? He's… terrifying. Everyone fears him."

Ishaan picked at his food, casual. "He's indebted to me—saved a life he cares about. Simple as that."

Simi's eyes widened, piecing it together. Mystic powers—must've healed someone Basu knows, or Basu himself, she thought. No wonder the respect. "Makes sense," she said aloud. "You're full of surprises."

"What about you?" Ishaan asked, turning it back. "Running the shop, dealing with… all this."

She laughed, light and genuine. "Dad's recovering—back to business full-time. But enough about me. What's next for you?"

"Trying YouTube," Ishaan said. "Martial arts channel—masked stuff. Early days."

Simi pulled out her phone, searching. "Modern Ninja? Oh my god—these reels!" She played one, Ishaan's flips drawing her gasp. "They're amazing! 3.8 lakh subs already? You're blowing up!" She liked them all, scrolling comments. "People love it—the mystery, the moves."

"Thanks," Ishaan said, a bit sheepish.

"You could be an actor, a model—whatever. You look like one already. So handsome, that build…" Simi trailed off, eyes sparkling. "I have a friend—he's a scout for a huge modeling agency. Let me introduce you."

Ishaan waved it off. "No face on camera—keeps it simple."

She leaned forward, insistent. "Just meet him. One coffee. If you hate it, walk away."

"I'm good," he said firmly.

"Please? For me?" Simi pressed, her persistence shining through. "You've done so much—let me return the favor. One meeting, that's all."

Ishaan saw it then—her nature: once she latched on, she didn't let go. She really wants to help, he realized. "Alright, but after I talk to Ari."

"Better—meet him first," Simi countered. "Hear what he says, decide with confidence. Then tell your wife. Deal?"

Ishaan paused, then nodded. "Deal."

They finished lunch amid laughter—Simi sharing shop stories, Ishaan listening with quiet amusement. As plates cleared, she stood. "Text me when you're free for the intro."

"Will do." Ishaan bid her farewell, mounting the bike and riding to Ari's office, the day's alliances weaving tighter.

More Chapters