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"Teri yaadon ka silsila rukta nahi, Meri khamoshi bhi ab darta nahi. Jitna tumse door hoon, utna paas tum ho, Dil ki har ek dhadkan tumhare paas rukta nahi."
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The night was draped in a heavy, unsettling silence that blanketed Mumbai's deserted outskirts. Inside a dimly lit warehouse, the stale air hung thick, and the faint hum of the city was only a distant memory. Amidst the cracked concrete floor, blood pooled around a lifeless figure - a man bound in heavy steel chains, his bruised face telling a story of torture and surrender. Above him loomed Aryan Rathore, a figure of ruthless determination, his cold gaze fixed on the man he had come to eliminate.
Aryan's hand rose steadily, gripping a gun aimed with precision. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the emptiness, slicing through the silence like a knife. As the man's body went limp, Aryan merely watched, his expression unchanging, his jaw clenched with grim finality.
In the background, Akshay entered quietly, carrying a fresh towel. His face showed no shock or surprise; this was routine for him - for them. Wordlessly, he handed the towel to Aryan, who wiped a smear of blood from his face with a deliberate, almost practiced ease.
"Make sure he's delivered back to his family," Aryan said, his tone ice-cold, devoid of emotion. "And don't forget the proof of his dealings."
Akshay nodded, already signaling to the team behind him. A handful of men stepped forward, their movements efficient and precise as they began the grim work of cleaning up the scene. There was no hesitation in their actions - only the speed and skill of people who had done this before, many times over.
"Yes, boss. We'll handle it," Akshay replied, his voice respectful yet firm. He watched Aryan with a mixture of awe and loyalty, both of which had been earned over years of witnessing his boss's brutal efficiency.
Aryan's gaze scanned the darkened warehouse, his mouth curling in a slight sneer as he took in the grim scene. "This world is filthy, Akshay. It's full of leeches, parasites feeding off the weak. People like him think they're untouchable, hidden behind money and influence."
