Within a year, Surya had captured both the East and West sectors. Now, his name echoed through every street of the South Zone. He was no longer just a man—he had become a legend.
The mere mention of "Surya" commanded respect—and fear.
Even Rajiv, once indifferent, now spoke of Surya with admiration.
Every night, Surya and Jey patrolled the streets of the South Zone. People recognized him instantly, but it wasn't admiration in their eyes—it was dread. No one dared to meet his gaze. They lowered their heads as he passed, as if his eyes could burn through their souls.
One evening, while walking through the South Zone, something felt eerily familiar. The street... it stirred memories—memories of the time he'd met the old lady. He slowed his steps, thoughts drifting back to that moment.
He continued walking, eyes scanning the surroundings, until he stopped in front of a shop. It looked exactly like the one where he had first seen her.
People moved in and out of the place, and curiosity pulled Surya inside. He chose a table and sat down, Jey settling beside him.
Jey began to speak, but Surya wasn't listening. His eyes were wandering, soaking in every detail of the shop. The décor, the soft lighting, the warm vibe—it was just like the old lady's place.
The scent of tea. The light through the curtains. For a second, he swore he heard her voice again—soft, worn, kind. The old lady's shop. Where the war hadn't reached him yet. Before the blood. Before the wolf.
And then, something jolted him.
A gentle tap on his hand.
In that instant, a flood of memories surged through him. His chest tightened, and a tear slipped from his right eye. Slowly, he turned to see who had touched him.
She stood there—a woman in her twenties, with eyes as deep as the ocean. Her long hair danced in the breeze like it had a life of its own, and her face glowed like the first light of the moon after a long night. He was captivated, lost in a moment he didn't want to end.
She smiled patiently, waiting to take their order. But Surya couldn't find the words. He opened his mouth, but only one word escaped, almost like a whisper.
"Beautiful."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Jey chuckled, breaking the tension. He quickly gave her the order and spared Surya any further embarrassment.
After she took their order, she walked toward the kitchen. Surya's eyes followed her every step—he simply couldn't look away.
A few minutes later, she returned with their food and placed the dishes on the table with a soft smile.
"Enjoy your meals," she said warmly.
"Thank you," Jey replied cheerfully.
Surya, though, remained silent. He just stared at her, enchanted, as if caught in a dream he didn't want to wake up from. She met his gaze briefly before turning and disappearing into the kitchen.
Jey nudged him hard in the arm. "What!"
Surya blinked and turned to him.
With a smirk, Jey said, "The food's here. Let's eat before it gets cold."
"Oh... okay," Surya mumbled, still dazed. "But why are you smiling?"
Jey didn't answer. He just started eating, pretending not to notice the grin tugging at Surya's lips.
Surya slowly picked up a piece, placed it in his mouth, and chewed. A soft surprise bloomed across his face.
"Delicious," he whispered.
Jey saw the look in his eyes and smiled again. It was the first time in over a year that Surya had truly tasted food—not just with his mouth, but with his soul.
Jey finished his meal and glanced at Surya's plate. It was spotless, as if someone had washed it.
He smiled. "Well, someone enjoyed it."
Surya looked up, confused. "What?"
"Nothing," Jey said, chuckling. "Let's go."
They stood and walked to the counter to pay. The woman was there, smiling as she rang them up. Surya stood silently beside Jey, his eyes fixed on her once more.
She caught his gaze. "Is there something on my face?" she asked, tilting her head.
Surya hesitated. "No... your eyes…"
She leaned in slightly. "Something happened to them?"
He smiled, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're beautiful."
The woman blinked in surprise. "What?"
Jey burst into awkward laughter, pulling Surya by the arm as they headed out the door. As they stepped outside, the woman turned, her smile lingering as she watched Surya disappear down the street.
That night, he returned to the complex and lay on his bed, but he couldn't stop thinking about the woman. He touched his hand, trying to recall the warmth when she had held it, reminiscing about her presence.
From that day on, he went to the shop every evening after patrolling. He would sit in the same corner, eat quietly, and soon, the woman began to notice. Their exchanges were brief, but something unspoken passed between them each time.
One day, as Surya was preparing for patrol, Rajiv called him to his office. Surya went there with Jey.
Rajiv started the conversation.
"Surya, we've almost secured the South Zone. Only one sector remains. Go there and take control. But be careful—this sector has a police force that's on friendly terms with the gang. Take our best men and finish it."
Excluding Jey, three members around Surya's age had grown close to him. He chose them to accompany him to the South Sector. Their names were Karthik, Raju, and Verma.
Together, they set off for the South Sector.
The South Sector already knew Surya was coming.
They were ready.
Surya took ten men and headed toward the edge of the sector. As they approached the entrance, they were intercepted by the Varid Gang—about fifteen members, all armed with wooden clubs and iron rods.
Among them, one man stepped forward and approached Surya.
"So this is the Wolf of the South Zone?" he sneered. "Huh. I expected a beast. Not a boy."
Surya didn't reply. He locked eyes with the man, his stare sharp and cold.
The man instinctively stepped back, then let out a nervous laugh.
"Now I see it. Those eyes—like fire, like they've already burned through everything. But what are you really looking for?"
Without a word, Surya walked up and punched him straight in the face.
The man collapsed, blood gushing from his nose. Crawling back toward his gang, he shouted:
"Attack!"
The Varid Gang roared and rushed forward.
The battle had begun.
Clubs cracked against pavement. Fists collided with bone. Surya's men met them head-on—Verma charging like a bull, Karthik weaving through the crowd with surgical precision, Raju flipping a metal rod from an enemy's grip and turning it back on them in seconds.
Jey held the flank, taking down two with swift, punishing blows. The rest of the foot soldiers backed them, chaos spilling from alley to alley.
People screamed and scattered. Doors slammed shut. A few bystanders ducked behind carts or vehicles, watching in terrified silence.
In the middle of the street, Surya moved like a storm—quick, precise, brutal. Every strike landed with purpose. He wasn't just fighting. He was sending a message.
And then—
Across the street, a man stood frozen in place. Plainclothes, but alert. His jaw clenched. One hand reached into his jacket—flashing a badge for only a second.
A cop.
Surya noticed too late.
"Freeze!" the officer shouted. His voice cracked with urgency, not fear. "DROP THE—"
Bang.
The shot rang out.
The bullet grazed Surya's shoulder, tearing through fabric and skin. Blood sprayed across his collar.
Surya staggered a step. Then he lunged.
In a blur, his blade cut across the officer's throat. Blood erupted in a fine arc. The cop's eyes went wide, his knees gave out, and he dropped, gurgling, to the pavement.
Gasps. Screams. Silence.
Then the sirens.
Three uniformed officers turned the corner, guns drawn.
"POLICE! ON THE GROUND!"
"DROP IT, NOW!"
The sirens were louder now. More police vehicles screeched to a halt. Officers poured out, surrounding the bloodstained street with weapons raised.
Bodies lay sprawled across the ground—some unconscious, others groaning. But many were already gone, slipped into the maze of alleys during the chaos.
Of the ten men Surya brought, only five remained.
Surya, Jey, Karthik, Verma, and Raju stood surrounded, breathless and bloodstreaked. The others had vanished into the shadows.
"Drop your weapons!" an officer barked.
Karthik cursed. Raju looked ready to run, but Surya gave a subtle shake of the head.
No.
They were outnumbered. Outgunned. And after killing a cop, out of time.
Slowly, they dropped their weapons.
Officers rushed in, slamming them to the ground, wrenching arms behind backs and snapping cuffs onto wrists. Verma tried to resist—until a baton cracked across his ribs and put him down.
Sirens wailed. Streets emptied.
The South Sector was quiet again.
But the war had just taken a turn.
Police Headquarters – Interrogation Room
The room was cold. Not because of the air, but because of the silence.
Surya sat with his wrists cuffed to a metal table, blood from his shoulder wound seeping slowly through the bandage. His expression was unreadable. Eyes fixed on the gray wall in front of him.
No fear. No regret. Just silence.
A ceiling fan hummed overhead, cutting through the stillness.
The door opened. A senior officer entered, followed by a younger constable carrying a file.
The older officer sat across from Surya, opened the folder, and flipped through its pages. For a moment, he didn't speak. He studied photos—surveillance images, mugshots, and one fresh crime scene still wet with blood.
He looked up.
"You know who you killed?"
Surya said nothing.
The officer snapped the folder shut.
"Undercover narcotics agent. Eight months deep in this sector. He had a wife. Two kids. He pulled the trigger because he saw a gang war erupting in the middle of a public street."
Still silence.
"Here's the thing, Surya," the officer said, leaning forward. "I know who you are. Everyone does. The Wolf of the South Zone. You've built something dark and powerful. But today, you made a mistake. You didn't just kill a cop. You killed a symbol."
He paused.
"And now the department wants your head."
No reaction.
The officer sat back.
"Lucky for you, someone higher up wants to keep your head on your shoulders—for now."
Surya blinked. Just once.
The officer smirked.
"You're being transferred. Central Detention. Your case just got political."
He stood, walking to the door. Then turned one last time.
"You may be a wolf, Surya. But this city? It's full of hunters."
Surya finally spoke, voice low and cold.
"Then let them come."
That Night – At the Shop
A candle flickered on the counter.
The woman sat alone, her apron still on, a warm cup sitting untouched beside her.
His cup.
She glanced at the clock. Then the door. Then the street.
Still no sign of him.
A customer entered. She smiled politely, took the order, and walked to the kitchen.
But her steps were slower now. Her smile, dimmer.
In the corner, Surya's seat remained empty.
She didn't know it yet—but that chair wouldn't be filled for a long time.