Chapter 5: Two Worlds, One Fate
Aanya’s POV
The morning sun filtered through the hostel window, casting a golden glow across Aanya’s desk. She sipped her chai quietly, glancing through her notes. Her college lectures today were mostly revision—nothing she couldn’t handle. But what had her heart racing was something else entirely—today was her first day at her new job.
After classes, she packed her bag and waved at Tara.
“Wish me luck!”
Tara smiled and winked. “Go get ‘em, book fairy.”
The college day passed quickly—some praise from the professor for her paper on constitutional morality, a quick group discussion, and then lunch. Despite the usual chaos in the canteen, Aanya was calm, a rare smile playing on her lips. She was finally doing something for herself… and for, her younger brother.
By 4:30 PM, she reached the old library near Grant Road. The library—chipped at the corners but holding character, much like the place itself.
Inside, the scent of old paper wrapped her like a hug. Wooden shelves stretched high, books piled in cozy chaos. The owner, Mr. Rao, greeted her with a gentle smile and a walking stick.
“Welcome, beta,” he said, adjusting his round glasses. “You’ll manage the front desk during evenings, help the readers, and keep the ledgers. Tea is free. But you’ll have to make it.”
Aanya laughed. “Fair enough, sir.”
She fell into a rhythm almost instantly—cataloguing returns, guiding readers, and dusting off old volumes. One elderly man asked her to recommend a good book on philosophy, and she surprised herself with her suggestion. As the evening grew quieter, she sat by the window, scribbling notes and reviewing her syllabus. There was peace here. Something rare and precious.
She sent Tara a message: First day went well. I already love it.
Raaz’s POV
At the same hour, in an undisclosed godown in South Mumbai, Raaz stood before a table spread with maps, photographs, and burner phones. His fingers drummed on the wood, eyes scanning the details with surgical precision.
“Kartik thinks he’s smart,” Raaz muttered. “Thinks that shipment from Dubai will make him king.”
Yash stood beside him, arms crossed. “We have eyes on the Sion warehouse. The consignment arrives tonight. High-grade weapons.”
Raaz’s jaw tightened. “We hit him where it hurts. No police, no warning. Burn it all.”
Yash frowned slightly. “Won’t that start a war?”
Raaz turned toward him, the same fire in his eyes that had built an empire of fear.
“He started it when he sent his men after my route. When he bribed my mole. Now, I end it.”
He walked over to a crate and opened it—rows of AK-47s gleaming coldly under the light.
“I want no survivors guarding that shipment,” he said. “By morning, Kartik should know what it feels like to lose everything.”
As he lit a cigarette, the smoke curled like a serpent around his face. But in the corner of his mind—where silence whispered.
Back to Aanya
At the library’s closing time, Aanya locked the gate, waving goodbye to Mr. Rao, who blessed her like a grandfather.
As she walked back toward her hostel, unaware of the chaos brewing in the shadows of the city, she hummed quietly to herself—content, for once, with the little light she had carved out in a world full of darkness.
Raaz’s POV
The sky was moonless as Raaz stood atop a building near Sion. The warehouse below was a hive of activity—Kartik’s men unloading crates from a black truck, unaware they were being watched.
Raaz lit a cigarette, the flame briefly revealing the edge of a deep scar near his jaw. He had never cared for scars. But this one… this one came with a pair of trembling hands, soft breaths, and terrified eyes that lingered in his mind more than he liked to admit.
“Yash,” he said, not turning back. “Is the van in place?”
“Ten minutes out,” Yash confirmed. “Our men are ready.”
“Good,” Raaz said, flicking the cigarette into the darkness. “Kartik’s empire burns tonight.”
Location: Kartik's Warehouse, Sion, Mumbai – 2:43 AM
The warehouse stood silent in the dead of night, a fortress of shadowed metal and steel. Inside, Kartik’s men moved with brisk precision, stacking sealed crates of contraband—illicit arms and smuggled opiates ready for export.
Outside, two black SUVs parked silently across the alley. Inside one, Raaz sat still, clad in black from collar to boots. The faint glow of his cigarette outlined the hard set of his jaw.
Yash, seated beside him, checked the time.
“Three minutes till the lights cut,” he murmured.
Raaz didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on the warehouse, predator-like. The memory of betrayal was still raw. Kartik had bribed his dealers. Turned his men. Poisoned his territory.
Tonight, Raaz would answer with fire.
Location: Inside the Warehouse
Kartik, dressed in a tailored charcoal kurta, stood in the control room on the upper level, sipping whisky. Two guards stood behind him.
“Shipment goes to the docks before dawn,” he muttered to his lieutenant, checking his gold watch. “Raaz thinks he owns Mumbai. Let him try tonight.”
At that very moment—
BOOM.
The power cut.
A second later, a small explosion shattered the east gate. Then another at the south entry.
Gunfire erupted—short, violent bursts.
“INTRUDERS!” shouted a guard before a bullet silenced him.
Red emergency lights blinked to life. Shadows stretched long and wide as Raaz’s men flooded in, masked, armed, methodical.
Raaz entered last.
He didn’t wear a mask.
He wanted Kartik to see him.
Gunfight in the Main Bay
Bullets rang out. Crates shattered. A truck caught fire.
Raaz moved through the chaos like a storm—silent, precise, merciless. He shot two of Kartik’s men in the knee before ordering his own to burn the shipment.
“Light it up,” he commanded.
One of his men doused the crates in petrol and lit a flare.
Flames roared.
From the control room window, Kartik saw his empire going up in smoke.
“RAAAAZ!” he screamed, rage choking his voice.
“Sir!” his guard shouted. “We have to go—now!”
Kartik cursed, smashed his glass against the wall, and ran down the side stairs with his men, exiting through the underground passage.
Raaz caught sight of him—just a glimpse.
But it was enough.
He chased, but Kartik’s convoy had already vanished into the night.
Location: Outside the Warehouse – Ten Minutes Later
Smoke curled into the sky. Sirens howled in the distance.
Raaz stood watching the blaze, silent.
Yash approached. “Kartik escaped.”
Raaz’s jaw tightened. “Coward.”
A phone buzzed.
It was a voice note.
Kartik.
“You made a mistake tonight, Raaz. You’ve crossed the line. This fire… it won’t just burn my crates—it’ll burn your future. You want war? I’ll bring you hell.”
Raaz smiled faintly, unfazed.
He handed the phone back to Yash.
“Let him try. Next time, I won’t miss.”