Suddenly, the heavy steel door of the safehouse groaned. It didn’t open; it was melted through. The Hunters didn't knock. They used thermite. Vikram dove behind a mahogany desk just as a volley of suppressed gunfire shredded the air where his head had been a second before.
But Vikram was a Karzdaar—a man in debt. Not to a bank, but to the Butcher of Bandra, a man who had cleared Vikram's father’s gambling debts twenty years ago. Now, the Butcher wanted his interest paid in full. Suddenly, the heavy steel door of the safehouse groaned
He didn't fire back. Not yet. He needed them to think he was trapped. As the first Hunter stepped into the room, silhouetted by the glowing orange embers of the doorframe, Vikram pulled the pin on a flash-bang and threw it at the man’s feet. They used thermite
The mission was simple: Episode 3, Part 5 of his descent into hell. He had to intercept a courier carrying a ledger that could bring down the city’s entire political hierarchy. The "Hunters"—an elite, off-the-books mercenary squad—were already closing in. He could hear the low hum of their drones circling the block, their thermal optics searching for the heat of a guilty man’s heart. Vikram checked his watch. 3:00 AM. The courier was late. Not to a bank, but to the Butcher