The Singh estate was unusually quiet that morning. The storm from the previous night had left streets littered with debris, and the air smelled faintly of smoke from the warehouses Akash had burned. The family gathered in the breakfast hall, tension coiled tightly like a spring ready to snap. Mr. Singh’s health had worsened overnight, his usually commanding presence now fragile and uneven. Zain, visibly restless, paced near the window, glaring at Akash from time to time, suspicion clouding his face.Akash sat at the far end of the table, reviewing reports on his tablet, noting Rathore’s movements. The wounds on his shoulder and arm had been treated, but every movement reminded him of the docks’ ambush. Svetlana arrived, carrying a tray of tea, her sari slightly damp from the morning drizzle. Her eyes met Akash’s for a moment, a silent exchange passing between them—care, worry, and an unspoken acknowledgment of trust.“Akash,” Zain said sharply, breaking the silence. “I still don’t und

The city had grown eerily quiet in the hours before midnight. Mumbai’s neon lights reflected off puddles left by the day’s storm, painting streets in shifting patterns of red and gold. At the Singh estate, the family tried to rest, but sleep was impossible. Every creak of the house, every shadow in the corridor made Svetlana’s heart race. She had never seen Akash like this before—so focused, so fearless, yet carrying a weight she couldn’t fully comprehend.Akash moved silently through the halls, checking security feeds, confirming patrol schedules, and reviewing plans for potential threats. He had been expecting Rathore to retaliate, but tonight felt different. The patterns were… deliberate. Almost personal.Svetlana watched from the top of the staircase, torn between admiration and fear. “Akash…” she whispered, almost unconsciously. He paused, sensing her presence, and looked up.“I know you’re here,” he said softly, voice low but commanding. “You don’t need to follow me.”Her hands