𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

3.𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

"Raanjhan de yaar Bulleya
Sun le pukaar Bulleya
Tu hi toh yaar Bulleya
Murshid mera, Murshid mera."
_

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[𝗔 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗲]

Dim light flickered in the dank, abandoned warehouse, the air thick with the scent of rust and decay. Shadows danced along the walls as the sound of distant dripping water echoed ominously. In the center of the vast space stood 𝗗𝗵𝗿𝘂𝘃 𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗿𝗮, his silhouette imposing and cold. He surveyed the scene with a sharp gaze, his mind calculating every possibility.

𝗔𝗮𝘆𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗮 stood beside him, his face lit by the glow of a single overhead bulb. A wicked smile curved his lips, a reflection of his enthusiasm for the task at hand. The two men were surrounded by a group of terrified individuals, bound and kneeling on the cold concrete floor.

Ayushman laughed, the sound harsh and unsettling. "They'll learn soon enough. People like them always do." He stepped forward, drawing a sleek knife from his belt, its blade glinting in the dim light. He turned to the group, his expression twisted with malice. "Let's make this quick. We have more important things to do tonight."

As the first victim pleaded for mercy, Dhruv stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "Mercy is a luxury we can't afford," he stated coldly. He clenched his jaw, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. "Get on with it, Ayushman."

Without hesitation, Ayushman advanced, and with a swift motion, he plunged the knife into the throat of the nearest man. The blood sprayed like crimson paint, splattering across the concrete and drenching Ayushman's clothes. He grinned as the man gasped for breath, his life ebbing away.

"Pathetic," Ayushman muttered, wiping the blade clean with a cloth. "This is the kind of scum that thinks they can rise against us. They have no idea who they're dealing with."

Dhruv's eyes glinted with approval as he watched the carnage unfold. "Make sure to send a message," he said, his voice low and steady. "We don't just eliminate our enemies; we instill fear. They need to know the price of betrayal."

Ayushman nodded, his adrenaline pumping as he moved to the next target. Each strike was a method.

The two men left the warehouse without a backward glance, walking through the deserted alley under the cover of darkness. Blood spattered their clothes, but neither seemed concerned. They moved with purpose, each step echoing with the confidence and ruthlessness that defined them.