Bonds

1- LIFE CHANGING

Adikrit Pov

"Boss, this morning we received a call from Mr. Atlas asking you to provide assistance to Mr. Hardin in his upcoming mission next month." My P.A. Shikhar informs me.

"Details?" I inquire.

"No details were provided. Just because they tried reaching you through your phone, it seems you were not available; hence, I put up this email. Looking forward to a positive response." He further adds. As if Mr. Atlas did not just order me indirectly, and why not?

"And what happened to the shipments to Indonesia?" We have been receiving threats regarding our arms shipments.

"They reached safely, but something was off. Please check the mail I am forwarding to you now. It was marked, indicating it was for you only." means rendezvous; these personal mails are never merry and 90% of the time bring bloodshed, and I am beyond prepared for it as it has been a while since I was in a true action. Working behind a desk might be safe and stable, but the thrill of danger, keeping your life at stake, and swirling daunting feelings of maybe not coming back alive to your brothers and then overcoming and returning as the winner is what I live for. The expressions of fear and realization of being near death on the faces of my enemies bring joy and merriness that these personal mails usually lack.

"Hm. Turn the car to the XYZ warehouse." After reading the mail, I understand it is indeed urgent and cannot be postponed for later.

"Sir, meeting with Mr. Shekha-

"Reschedule it." Not that it was that crucial anyway. That thirty-eight-year-old man acts like a typical old hag, which just bores the hell out of me.

I started replying to emails. It is four past fifteen. I am slightly hungry, which reminds me that I once again forgot to have my lunch and now don't even have time for snacks or even a cup of tea. Sighing a long, breathy sigh, I wonder about this mail. The restlessness is unsettling. I rarely was asked to present somewhere unless the risk was too high to bear or straight up connected to our mafia. But then it should have been Ethi receiving this sort of message. Contacting me only indicating towards the demand of listening ear before he has a bullet in his skull, something Ethi does not have patience for simply because he thinks if someone cannot even use his braincells to even manage to meet him or contact him through whatever fucking means in difficult times and letting the situation have control over him, then he doesn't deserve to be in his mafia. Well, he is sort of right. I pretty much wish to save my time and sleep off by not killing and filling my already fully filled plate by adding the trouble of looking for another suitable man who can efficiently handle the warehouse.

After another 35 minutes, we finally reach.

"Hello boss." I shoot him a deadly glare, to which he visibly flinches.

"I hope you are doing well." What the fucking fuck is this man saying? For sh*t sake, I am not here to ask how well he is doing in his life. He can become prime minister, for all I care. or just die. Better let me kill him. This man better have some serious shit to discuss, or I will fucking torture him to his last breath, which itself will be at my mercy.

"Stop beating around the bush, Khalid." Sternly and slightly glaring at him, I quip.

"Sorry boss. Sure."

With that, we came to our conference room, which is soundproof and comes in handy when actually not. This just makes my suspicion stronger. I went and sat on the Head chair lazily.

"I am sorry, boss, for the inconvenience I have caused you, but this was indeed important, and not only our shipping ports have some serious bugs to clear, but also 137 children of age between 2 and 5 years whose lives are also in danger to protect." His tone tensed, not failing to display the seriousness of this unprecedented yet easily predicted situation. Mafia and bugs are nothing new, but children grab my attention.