Dilip's eyes cut through the dim light like a blade. He turned to his men and spoke with slow, careful weight. "Listen up. I'll make this clear — this deal is life or death for all of us. If it goes through, I'll be on another level in Mumbai. And when I rise, you move with me. You won't be stuck scraping by anymore."
Three boys stood before him, no older than sixteen to twenty-seven. They straightened, eager to prove themselves. One of them stepped forward and said, chest tight with bravado, "Don't worry, bhai. We've stood by you through everything. We'll die for you if we must — so you can reach higher." The other two echoed the words in unison: "Haan, bhai."
Their faces glowed with loyalty — or maybe with the thrill of possibility. To them, a better life waited on the other side of this job: no more petty thefts, no more begging at corners. The promise of power felt like a ladder they were finally allowed to climb.
A little way off, Raja was helping load the last of the crates. He had been listening; now he stepped closer and called out, "Boss, loading's nearly done. What's the next step?"
Dilip glanced at Raja, then out toward the waiting trucks as if seeing the whole city laid out like a map. "Tell me the plan again," he said, calm but firm.
The young man who'd spoken before took charge and ran through it. "Boss, each of us will take a truck — five men per truck. We'll communicate as we go. Our boys are stationed along the route to give signals because phone lines get jammed in places."
"And we're taking different routes," he added.
Raja, and two others nearby, froze. "Boss, why change the plan?" they said together, voices tight with confusion.
Dilip raised a hand to silence them. "I don't want any unnecessary trouble," he explained. "We'll be splitting up to avoid being boxed in. At the first checkpoint, three of our boys will come close to the truck and spoke the the password. Than confirm they're ours, and they tell you which route to take."
Hearing that, Raja's stomach dropped like a stone. Weeks of planning — the timing, his role at the exact moment the truck had to stop, the signal he was supposed to give — all hinged on him being in the right place, at the right second. Without his move, everything could unravel, like the middle card pulled from a house of cards. The thought sat heavy and cold in his chest.
one of the younger men frowned and asked, "Boss, you said three boys are waiting at the first checkpoint, right? Then what about the fourth truck? Who's going to guide that one?"
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then Dilip smiled — a small, sharp, knowing smirk.
"I'll be in the fourth truck," he said, his voice smooth as oil. "With Raja."
Raja's pulse jumped.
It felt like the bad luck of the whole city had chosen that moment to fall squarely on his shoulders.
The others didn't notice the panic beneath his calm face. They just nodded, impressed that the boss himself was joining the run. But inside, Raja's stomach twisted. This wasn't supposed to happen. His truck — his truck — was the one Veer's team was counting on. The whole plan depended on him taking that route through Maharaj Circle, where the rally would cause enough chaos for Veer to make his move.
If Dilip rode with him, everything changed.
Minutes later, the orders were shouted, and the engines roared to life. The four trucks rumbled out of the dockyard, headlights cutting through the mist as they rolled toward the city. Raja sat in the driver's seat of the fourth truck, his hands slick on the steering wheel. Beside him, Dilip leaned back with a cigarette between his fingers, watching the road like a hawk.
Every time Raja glanced his way, Dilip's eyes were already on him.
There was no space to breathe, no way to reach for his phone, no chance to contact Veer.
The road wound through the industrial zone, then toward the city lights. The radio buzzed with static. Somewhere ahead, three other trucks would soon meet their contacts and get their assigned routes — but Raja had no idea where his own would lead.
Would his path take him through Maharaj Circle as planned, or would fate twist again and crush the whole operation?
He couldn't ask. He couldn't risk a single wrong word.
So he gripped the wheel tighter and kept driving, heart pounding in rhythm with the engine, as Dilip Topi watched him — silent, sharp, unreadable.
And in that silence, Raja knew one thing for certain: one wrong turn tonight, and he wouldn't live long enough to regret it.