Mohra

Part - 23

Continued...

A faint ringtone interrupted the silence in the empty warehouse . Both Anubhav and Vishwas froze, exchanging alarmed glances.

"Tumne call kiya hai us number par?" Anubhav asked, his voice tight with suspicion.

"Nhi, sir!" Imran replied immediately.

Vishwas, following the sound of the ringtone, cautiously moved towards a pile of debris. After shifting a few broken planks, he uncovered a phone, its screen flashing Anubhav Calling.

Vishwas’s breath hitched. His brows knitted together in confusion as he turned to Anubhav. But before he could utter a word, his gaze shifted, catching sight of something—or rather, someone—lurking in the shadows.

His instincts kicked in. "Sambhal ke, Dhruv!" he shouted, his voice urgent.

Anubhav reacted instantly. His eyes followed Vishwas's line of sight, and just as he spotted the glint of a gun barrel aimed at him, he threw himself to the ground. A deafening gunshot rang out, echoing through the warehouse.

"Iski maiyya ki...!" Both Anubhav and Vishwas cursed under their breaths in unison before sprinting after the shooter.

The moment the bullet missed its mark, the assailant wasted no time, darting through the abandoned warehouse like a shadow, his footsteps echoing against the cold concrete.

"Zinda chahiye yeh mujhe!" Anubhav shouted, his pulse pounding as he picked up speed, his eyes locked on the fleeing figure.

Vishwas, running alongside him, clenched his jaw. "Lash ka karenge bhi kya!" He said.

Anubhav shot Vishwas a sharp glare, his eyes clearly saying' Yeh mazak ka time nahi hai' Without wasting another second, he grabbed a wooden plank, no bigger than a sheet of paper, and swiftly hurled it at the fleeing man's legs.

The makeshift weapon struck true, slamming against the target's calf with enough force to throw him off balance. The man stumbled, his body lurching forward as he barely managed to catch himself from falling completely.

"Ab bhaag ke dikha!" Vishwas growled, his voice laced with determination as he surged forward, closing the distance between them. But just as they reached the man, a strange unease settled over them.

The fugitive wasn’t struggling. He wasn’t panicking. Instead, he stood there, smirking.

Vishwas felt a chill crawl up his spine. His gaze flickered to Anubhav before he muttered under his breath, "Iski saadi huyi muskurahat dekh kar aisa kyun lag raha hai ki humne ise nahi, isne hume pakda hai?"

Anubhav’s sharp eyes scanned their surroundings, his instincts sharpening. He didn’t reply immediately, but a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. Then, with a slow, deliberate gesture, he motioned behind Vishwas.

"Sahi ehsaas ho raha hai tumhe…" Anubhav murmured, his voice eerily calm yet edged with warning.

Vishwas stiffened at his words, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. Slowly, he turned around, only for his lips to curl into a humorless smile.

Dozens of men stood in a loose circle around them, their expressions predatory, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the hunt. Each step they took forward echoed ominously in the still night, the dim light glinting off the crude assortment of weapons in their hands—iron rods, chains, knives, and even a few rusted machetes.

Vishwas exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. "Yaar, aaj hi yeh din milna tha? Anjali ki di hui gaadi ko ek kharoch bhi aayi toh, mera divorce ho jayega bina shaadi ke," he muttered under his breath, his tone caught between exasperation and dread.