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There are never enough drugs.

I put the sheets fill with notes on the pile of papers on my desk and focus on the numbers on the screen.

"Call Angad." I lean back in my chair and look at Arif who is sitting on the other side of the desk. "I need him to arrange two additional shipments this month."

"He already negotiated the quantities with Russian for the quarter. I'm not sure the Mendoza can double it on such short note."

“They will,” I reply.

Arif opens the file he’s been holding, a thick manila folder lined with creases and smudges. He pulls out a paper from the stack and places it in front of me.

“But there’s something else,” he says, his voice low. “In the Project Inferno file… Mikhail Arseniev’s name showed up.”

For a moment, I don’t move.

Then I reach for the document. My eyes scan the content lines of classified intel, informant tags, offshore links. And there it is.

MIKHAIL ARSENIEV – PAKHAN – BRATVA – FLAGGED

The ink is still fresh, the highlight marked in red.

My fingers tighten around the edge of the page. Mikhail. The man who controls the largest heroin routes and also the arms from Eastern Europe. My primary supplier. If his name is inside a file like this, then someone is digging where they shouldn’t.

"Are we sure it’s him?” I asked looking up at him.

Arif nods once. “No aliases. There are direct link. The account numbers, shell companies all trace back. Either he’s been sloppy… or someone’s setting him up.”

I push back my chair and stand. The room suddenly feels heavier like the air is waiting for a storm to break.

“If the authorities have this—”

“They don’t not yet,” Arif cuts in. “We intercepted it through one of our sources in Central Command. But boss, if this leaks…”

“It won’t,” I say coldly, my mind already working. “We silence it before it spreads. If Mikhail falls, our entire supply chain burns.”

Arif hesitates. “Do you want to inform him?”

“No.” I fold the file shut and toss it back on the desk. “Not until I know who put his name there. And why.”

Arif gives a sharp nod and quietly leaves the room, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

I turn back toward the desk, drag the file toward me again, and flip it open.

I pick up my phone and dial Angad. He picks up on the second ring.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Push the Mendozas. Two shipments. No excuses.”

A pause. “Understood.”

I hang up without another word.

I make my way out of the study room and descend the staircase. The house hums with domestic silence broken only by the faint clink of cutlery from the dining hall below.

There was Maa. Her gaze was fixed to me. She put the bowl on the table. Now her hands were rested on her hips.

“I’ve given you space” she said, her gaze till fixed on me. “But now I want the truth. What were you doing near a restricted military base and why do you have a shallow cut on your head?”

I exhaled slowly. There was no getting out of this.

“A lady officer caught me. I went to the base camp to steal Project inferno. This, cut is due to her." I looked her in the eyes.

She turned her back to me for a moment, gripping the edge of the table. I saw her shoulders rise and fall as she inhaled.

“Have you completely lost it?” Her voice cracked with fury. “That girl is a soldier, Raunkash. She's risking her life for the country, and you—you sneak in like a common thief to rob from her?”

“She wasn’t supposed to be there that day,” I muttered, half-defensive.

“She’s always supposed to be there. It’s her duty. What’s your excuse?”

Her voice had dropped to a whisper now trembling with restrained emotion. “This is not what I raised you for. Not after what this world took from me. Your father.”

“I didn’t want this either, Ma. I swear. But I’m in it now. We’re in too deep. And this Project Inferno it’s not just about territory or business. It’s something bigger. Mikhail Arseniev is involved.”

She blinked, stunned. “The Russian pakhan?”

I nodded. “He’s tied to it. If I don’t move first, we’re going to be crushed.”

“I lost your father to this world,” she shouted. “I won’t lose my sons to it too.”

“I’m not him,” I said quietly. “But I do what I must to protect what he built and what you tried to shield us from. I know it’s not what you wanted. But this is who I am.”

She looked away, a sheen of tears clouding her eyes.

“I just wanted both of you to come out clean. Eat something. I made namak para and spicy moong daal samosa."

I had just taken a bite of the snacks when my phone rang sharply against the wooden tabletop.

Angad's name was flashed through my screen.

“Shaurya’s car exploded outside the hockey ground. He's in the hospital."

"What?" I stood up from the chair and my mom snapped at me.

“He survived,” Angad replied hurriedly. “Barely. He hadn’t gotten into the car. Shrapnel injuries and impacting trauma. He’s in emergency surgery.”

(Note:- My Wattpad is not working properly without VPN. This chapter was uploaded with great difficulties. I have heard that using VPN in the current situation is risky. So the upcoming chapters would be available in Scrollstack till the situation gets better.)

"Which hospital?" I asked. "Boss, City hospital." He replied from the other end.

"Okay, I'll be there in few minutes." I replied searching for the key.

"What happened?" My mother asked with concern. I don't know how to tell this but I have to tell.

I exhaled and said,"There was a bomb planted in my car. He took them as he informed me that he would be back early from the practice."

"We'll be coming with you." She grabbed my wrist stopping me.

We didn’t waste a second. Angad was already rerouting the security team when I strode to the car. Ma was close beside me wiping tears quietly. Samaira held her hand,not asking questions.. just supporting.

The hospital corridors smelled like antiseptic and blood. I hated it. I hated everything about this.

“Shaurya Devraj Thakur,” I snapped at the nurse the moment we reached the front desk. “Where is he?”

The nurse flinched but answered quickly. “Second floor. OR wing. He’s in surgery, they’re removing shrapnel.”

Ma’s hand gripped my forearm not tight. Her face was pale and eyes fixed straight ahead. She didn’t collapse. She just stood there, the quiet strength I had grown up watching.

Samaira sat beside her wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She looked scared but not for herself but for us. For the family.

Ma blinked hard and turned her face away, but I saw the tears threatening to break. One deep breath. And she straightened her spine. That’s how our mother was. She didn’t shatter — she hardened.

“We should wait,” she said, her voice calm. “And when he’s stable, we figure out who did this.”

I nodded.

But inside, I wasn’t calm.

That bomb was for me. Someone want me to die but my brother is injured. They won’t live long enough to try again.

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