Manan:To kill or not to kill{Mafia Love Story}

Chapter 12

Aryaman POV:

It was after midnight when I reached Zurich. The weather was chilly, but the fireplace in my hotel room kept me warm. I was told that Navya Malhotra was getting married today, so the Malhotra's would be having an exceptionally fine day. It was my job however to make the happy day into one of agonizing pain for everyone involved. Except Bella, of course. She couldn't be hurt.

Everything I was doing now was to protect her from that vile monster she called her 'life-saver.' She didn't know that Manik Malhotra didn't do anything that didn't benefit him in some way. I vowed to show her what he really is, and maybe then she'd decide I was better for her than him. He was a malignant parasite, and although I didn't know for sure whether they were together, I had a feeling that they were. It was killing me, knowing that she was in the hands of someone so dangerous, and I had promised Mr.Murthy I would bring her back safe and sound. No harm would come to her on my watch.

Third person POV:

Everyone knows that life is hard, and most people agree that it is not fair either. The purpose of justice is to assert rules, and to ingrain those rules in the psyche of the people, several examples are passed on. Stories about enforcers of the law are commonly told with them portrayed as heroes. Newspapers, TV-channels, and websites broadcast their heroism and selflessness. Occasionally, you might hear about a crooked cop here and there; the one past his prime with seven children and a mortgage payment, the one who had seen so much death on the job that it had made his own sense of right and wrong waver and maybe even the nerdy one who was scorned by everyone and was determined to make his life 'better' somehow. These stories are often told with caution, and always have brutal endings.

If Vartaman Khurana had known what the outcome of the nefarious purpose of his vigilante justice deliverance system would be, he would have doubted his plan and maybe even aborted it. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't a psychic, nor was he a mind-reader, so he continued that night through the cold streets of Zurich, and made his way to the hotel. Pretending to be a guest for the wedding whose flight had been delayed, he asked the receptionist the whereabouts of his target. When he was told that the bride's family had gone back, he took a cab to the address the receptionist had given him.

The house (if it could be called a house) was a modern interpretation of the Palace of Versailles in France. The architecture was strongly reminiscent of the lavish establishment but had a charm and homely feeling other structures of its kind lacked. It was a place you could imagine spending a relaxing summer in, with afternoon tea in the landscaped garden and children running around, playing hide-and-seek.

Security that night was lax, since the family had spent the better part of the day at the hotel and needed the men there. Manik had sent most of them home for a rare night off and they were all exceedingly grateful for the rare respite from their duties.

Aryaman took out the guard at the gate with a sleeping gas spray and proceeded into the house via the back door. The lock gave way under the pick and he entered the kitchen silently. The whole place was dark, and he took out the small flashlight to be able to navigate his way around the house. He didn't know which room was Manik Malhotra's so he knew he had to be careful not to go in someone else's room instead.

He walked to the first room downstairs, and stood in front of it for some time, listening for any sounds that might inform him about the identity of the occupant. All he heard was silence. He took out his gun and opened the door slowly. The figure standing in front of him had his back to Aryaman, but judging by the shade of his hair, he knew who it was. Manik turned around and his eyes widened in shock. He only had a tumbler in his hand; no gun or any other weapon of any kind.