The rain lashed against the cracked windowpane, but Vikram didn't flinch. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the mahogany desk. On the wall opposite him, the crimson splatters of blood hadn't dried yet. Outside, the sun was setting, turning the sky into a deep, haunting shade of red—the exact color he had seen in his nightmares.
"You crossed the line, Aryan," Vikram said, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the silent room.
Aryan, the man he had trusted with his life for over a decade, stood in the shadows of the corner. A faint, cold smirk played on his lips—a smile not of friendship, but of the poison that had been brewing beneath it. "Betrayal only stings when it comes from the one you trust most, Vikram. It's the oldest rule in the book."
The Shadow of Doubt
Vikram's mind raced back to the day they had started their journey. He remembered their oath to change the system, to stand as brothers against the world. He hadn't realized that the system had already corrupted the very man standing beside him. One by one, the faces of his team flashed before his eyes—all of them now turned into ghosts of the past.
"Why?" Vikram asked, his voice cracking slightly. "We had a dream. I treated you like blood."
Aryan took a slow step forward, the light catching the edge of a silver blade in his hand. "Dreams don't put food on the table, Vikram. Power and gold are the only truths in this world. And today, with your fall, I secure both."
The Escape
Suddenly, the lights flickered and died. Vikram had been counting the seconds for the backup generator to fail. He pulled a small, metallic sphere from his pocket and slammed it onto the floor. A deafening crack echoed, followed by a thick cloud of acrid smoke that filled the room.
"Get him!" Aryan roared, his voice muffled by the chaos. "Don't let him reach the balcony!"
Using the darkness as his shield, Vikram lunged toward the open window. He looked down—three stories high. Beneath him sat a rusted getaway car he had parked there hours ago, just in case. Without a second thought, he leapt. The wind whistled in his ears, a cold reminder of his mortality. He hit the roof of the car with a bone-jarring thud, pain radiating through his spine, but he didn't stop.
A New Fire
Vikram scrambled into the driver's seat and floored the accelerator. As he sped away into the heart of the city, he glanced at the rearview mirror. His eyes weren't filled with the warmth of friendship anymore. They burned with a new, dark intensity.
They thought they had broken him. They thought the story ended here. But as the city lights blurred past, Vikram knew this was only the beginning of The Crimson Betrayal.