The Fall Begins

Veer Sharma had ruled Bhopal’s underworld like an emperor. Untouchable. Feared. A man whose name alone made his enemies disappear.

But power is only an illusion until someone dares to shatter it.

And that someone remained unseen.

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The First Strike

It began subtly.

One of Veer’s trusted men, Rajeev, vanished overnight. No ransom, no warning—just gone. A day later, his body was found hanging from a bridge, his phone still ringing in his pocket.

A message was carved into his chest: “Your walls are cracking.”

Veer didn’t panic. Not yet.

But the next blow came faster.

His main money laundering operation was raided—not by the police, but by an unknown force. His men guarding the location were found unconscious, dumped outside his mansion like trash.

No signs of struggle. No security footage. Just another black card with the same blood-red symbol.

And then, the third attack came.

A heavily secured weapons shipment—one of the biggest deals of Veer’s career—was ambushed. Not stolen. Destroyed.

The entire convoy was found burning on the highway. Smoke curled into the sky like a funeral pyre.

The driver survived long enough to deliver a final message.

"He...he didn't take anything. He just...watched. And then he lit the match."

For the first time in years, Veer Sharma felt fear.

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The Predator in the Shadows

Somewhere in the city, Rudra Rathore sat in his dimly lit office, his fingers resting on the black chessboard in front of him. The game had started.

He wasn’t in a hurry. He never was.

Taking down a man like Veer Sharma wasn’t about making noise. It was about taking everything from him, piece by piece, until he had nothing left but regret.

Rudra had waited in the shadows for years, playing the role of a weak, law-abiding man. Now, he was done waiting.

His men, loyal beyond question, awaited his next order.

“What’s next, boss?” one of them asked.

Rudra lifted the black king between his fingers and let out a cold chuckle.

“Burn his blood,” he murmured. “Let’s see how loud a wounded lion can roar.”

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Devika's World Shatters

At home, Devika sensed the shift.

Her father, usually composed, was always on edge. Meetings ran late into the night. His men whispered in the halls, their faces pale, their hands twitching over their guns.

She had grown up surrounded by power, by men who bent to her father’s will.

But now? It felt like the walls were closing in.

“Papa, what’s going on?” she asked one evening, watching him pour a glass of whiskey with an unsteady hand.

Veer didn’t look at her. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

But she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

And that scared her more than anything.

That night, she sat in her room, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling that something was coming.

She didn’t know that outside, in the darkness of Bhopal’s streets, a new ruler had already begun writing his name in blood.

And soon, she would come face to face with him.

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