Syndicate [Thriller]

Chapter 2: Mountains and Strategies

Morning light filtered through the dusty windows of the pub, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. It was quiet now, the kind of quiet that always came after a storm. The stools were empty, the air still heavy with the scent of spilled whiskey and cigarette smoke from the night before. But this time, the quiet didn't feel right. It felt like a lull, the kind before everything changes.

I sat at the corner table, a fresh cigarette between my fingers, watching the smoke drift upwards as Vijay and Rangan joined me. Vijay, the eldest, leaned back in his chair, his jaw set in that way it always was when something was weighing on him. Rangan, younger and more restless, drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes flicking between us, waiting for someone to break the silence.

Harish slipped in through the back, his usual calm demeanor a little more tense this morning. He didn't waste time on pleasantries. "It was the Bhaskarans," he said flatly, taking a seat across from me.

I took a slow drag from the cigarette, the news not surprising, but still unwelcome. "Figured as much," I muttered, blowing the smoke out in a thin stream.

Vijay glanced at me, his expression hardening. "They've gone too far."

"They always do," I replied, keeping my voice steady, though the weight of it was settling in now. "What else?"

Harish leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "They're making moves—big ones. That explosion wasn't just a message for us. They're taking over Darjeeling, running the gambling operations, and keeping the smaller gangs under their thumb. Anyone who doesn't fall in line either ends up on their payroll or in the ground."

"And Kolkata?" Vijay asked, his tone sharper now.

"They're fixing the horse races," Harish said. "Big money rolling in. They've already set up shop, and they're using the winnings to expand their reach. It's all connected, Ajay. They want to control the whole region—start here, take Darjeeling, then move deeper into Kolkata."

Rangan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw. "So they're not just playing games anymore. They're trying to choke us out, bit by bit."

I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, my mind already turning over the possibilities. The Bhaskarans had always been ruthless, but this? This was a power move, plain and simple. Controlling Darjeeling meant controlling the flow of money and influence. And fixing the horse races in Kolkata? That was a bold move. It wasn't just about money—it was about territory, respect, and domination.

"They're coming for everything," I said quietly, more to myself than anyone else.

Vijay leaned forward, his voice low but firm. "We're not letting them."

"No," I agreed, my eyes narrowing. "We're not."

There was a moment of silence, heavy with the weight of what was to come. The Bhaskarans had drawn the first blood, but this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. We'd survived too long, fought too hard, to let them take everything we'd built. But it was clear now—they weren't just testing us. They were coming for us, for the whole game.

And this time, it wasn't just about holding our ground. It was about taking back control before they swallowed everything.

"We need to hit them where it hurts," Vijay said, his voice cold, cutting through the tension in the room.

I nodded slowly, feeling the familiar surge of resolve settle in my gut. The Bhaskarans wanted to play with fire, and they were about to find out just how dangerous that could be. This was our territory. And no one took it from us without a fight.

I stood up from the table, the weight of what needed to be done settling in my bones. "There's work to be done," I said, pulling on my jacket. The others nodded, the tension in the room thick but focused. Vijay's eyes met mine—he knew what was coming, and so did Rangan.