The cold wind outside the pub bit at Rex's jawline as he lit another cigarette, the smoke coiling up in ghostly trails around his head. His boots crunched over the gravel as his driver pulled the black Bentley around. But Rex didn't move.
His phone buzzed.
He glanced down casually—expecting another status report or a message from his arms network. But his gaze sharpened instantly when he saw the name blinking on the screen:
Aarav Mehra.
Aarav wasn't the kind to send casual updates. Especially not at this hour. Especially not after what they discussed.
> [Message: "Found them. Took time, but I cracked into a ghost channel. It's untraceable—no digital fingerprints left behind. You'll want to see this, Rex."]
Attached: File: BLACK GHOST_AGENTS_UK_INDIA
Rex exhaled a slow stream of smoke, the air now suddenly thick.
He opened the file.
His eyes scanned the decrypted data with a practiced stillness. Agents. Names. Code IDs. Base locations. Partial backstories.
One by one.
Then he froze.
There.
The boy.
Kiaan.
The same messy-haired kid from the pub—smirking with soft lips and a devil-may-care attitude—was now staring back at him in a classified agency file. But in the photo, he looked different. Suit. Gun. Bleeding edge training.
Name: Kiaan Mehra
Age: 21
Position: Field Operative, Undercover Counter-Intelligence Agent (India – England Division)
Clearance Level: RED – Tier A
Specialization: Tactical Surveillance, Espionage, Interrogation Strategy
Current Status: Active – England Division | Assigned Operation: BLACKROOT
Recent Activity: Lead Agent in Raid & Sealing of Red Vortex Mall, Swindon
Injury: Gunshot wound during operation – currently under medical supervision
Rex didn't move for nearly a minute.
The cigarette burned down to his fingers.
His jaw tightened.
> "So… the boy with the pretty face," he murmured under his breath, voice laced with venom and admiration, "is the same one who raided my empire?"
He sat down on the backseat of the Bentley, screen still glowing in his hand as the car began to roll through the city's streets. His other hand tapped slowly on the leather armrest, calculating.
He opened the rest of the files.
Dev Malik.
Tara Iyer.
Rehaan Sethi.
All part of the same squad. All tied to the seal, the evidence, the shutdown.
But none of them mattered now. Only the boy did.
That boy, who had looked Rex in the eye just an hour ago and hadn't flinched.
That boy, who dared to raid Rex's property, stand in his city, and smile like nothing could touch him.
That boy, who was supposed to be a ghost—but now he had a name. A file. A weakness.
Rex's lips curled slowly, something terrifying building behind his eyes.
> "You stepped into my web, Kiaan Mehra," he whispered, his voice now ice.
"And I don't let ghosts walk away without a scar."
He sent one text back to Aarav:
> "I want everything on Kiaan Mehra. Family. Friends. Habits. His blood type if you can. Don't sleep until you give me something I can break him with."
And then, staring out of the tinted windows into the fog-soaked streets of Sunderland, Rex smiled for the first time that night.
Not because he was pleased.
Because now it wasn't about revenge anymore.
It was personal.