"Reborn in the Movie Universe: Continuation"

[3RD PERSON POV]

As Krishna stepped into the room, his presence felt like a storm brewing, calm yet dangerous. Behind him, Warina followed, her eyes darting around the room in cautious silence. As a RAW agent, she had encountered many powerful individuals in her line of duty, but the people in this room were something different. She recognized most of them, and the weight of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders.

Warina's gaze met Brahma's, and she couldn't hide the shock that flickered in her eyes. But her professional composure remained intact.

Krishna's eyes, however, moved with ease through the room, as if he were walking through his own home. His gaze landed on Deva, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Yo ho, Deva! You're here too?" Krishna's voice was playful, like a friend greeting another, unaffected by the lethal atmosphere that surrounded them.

Deva, for his part, couldn't help but smile back. His presence was always commanding, yet when Krishna spoke, it was as if the two were old friends, sharing a bond deeper than anything their enemies could understand.

"Hahaha, it's been a while, Krishna," Deva chuckled, his voice rich with amusement. "I like your surprise. I didn't know I had a brother, but when I saw the DNA report you sent me, with the photo… he looks exactly like me. I've been waiting to meet him."

Krishna laughed, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. He stepped toward Deva, arms outstretched as if they were reunited family members, and embraced him in a hug that was warm. As they pulled apart, Krishna's smile never faltered.

"You'll meet him soon enough, Deva," Krishna said with a playful wink. "I have plans."

Deva's smile remained, but his attention shifted. His eyes flickered toward Warina, who had been silent, still processing the surreal turn of events. Warina couldn't suppress the nervousness that crept up her spine as she met Deva's gaze. It was as if the man could see straight through her, like he knew everything she was thinking — and that terrified her more than anything.

Deva's smile widened, his eyes never leaving Warina's as he tilted his head slightly, a playful glint now in his gaze. He looked at Krishna with a raised eyebrow.

"So, who is she, Krishna?" Deva's voice was teasing, yet there was a sharp edge to it.

Warina tensed, her heart racing. She could feel every fiber of her being tightening with anxiety. She had expected many things in this room, but not this — not to be the center of attention in this dangerous web of power.

As Krishna glanced from Deva to Warina, a playful grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "She is one of my future wives," he said with a teasing tone, his words hanging in the air like an unexpected breeze.

Warina's face went pale, and she quickly interjected, "I am not!" Her voice was firm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in this absurd game, yet it was hard to ignore Krishna's imposing presence.

Krishna's grin only deepened at her response, and he turned to Deva, still smiling. "Ignore what she said," he said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing more than a passing joke.

Deva chuckled, the amusement in his voice unmistakable. "Another one, huh?" he remarked, his eyes gleaming with an approving light, like a man watching an old friend having fun with his mischief.

Krishna simply smiled, the weight of his casual demeanor hiding something far more dangerous underneath. Then, his attention shifted, and his eyes landed on Masoom, who had been standing quietly at the back.

"Salam Walekum, Masoom Bhai," Krishna greeted him warmly, his tone softening as he walked toward him.

"Walakum assalam, Krishna Bhai," Masoom replied, a smile breaking across his face as he embraced Krishna in a brief yet respectful hug. There was an unspoken bond between them, an understanding forged through time and bloodshed.

Before they could continue their exchange, Brahma's voice cut through the atmosphere, his tone sharp yet tinged with impatience. "Chhote, if you're done with your reunion, can we move forward?"

Krishna turned toward Brahma, his playful smile never leaving his face. "Brahma, why so serious all of a sudden? I just killed a bunch of people. Let me rest a little." His words were light, but they carried an undertone of danger that made the room feel even heavier.

With a carefree shrug, Krishna strolled over to a luxurious chair set in the center of the room, followed closely by Warina. As he settled into the chair, he did so with the ease of a king claiming his throne, his posture perfect, his little axe resting lightly in his hand as if it were an extension of his very soul.

Warina stood silently beside him, her eyes flicking between Krishna and the others in the room, her body tense but unwilling to show it.

Krishna turned his gaze to her, his smile never wavering. "Why are you following me?" he asked, his voice playful yet cutting, a small challenge in the question.

Warina's jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. "Then what should I do?" she snapped, her irritation evident in her voice.

Krishna's smile softened, though there was still mischief in his eyes. "I mean, you must be tired. Please, take a seat," he said, gesturing toward the chair beside him.

Warina shot him a look that could've burned a hole through him, but instead of arguing, she relented, sitting down on the nearby chair.

Krishna's eyes flickered around the room, taking in the faces of the gathered men. He could feel the tension in the air, could see the fear and uncertainty radiating from Lucas and Jaidev, but he let none of it touch him. His gaze lingered briefly on them, knowing that the final act was about to begin.

His presence, calm yet overwhelming, was a force of nature, and he reveled in it. He was a king in his own right, and this room—this world—was his to command.

The air grew heavier as Krishna's eyes locked onto Lucas, who stood rooted in place, his body trembling like a child caught stealing. Beads of sweat trickled down Lucas's forehead, his eyes darting around in confusion, trying to understand the situation.

Krishna leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbow on the armrest and propping his chin on his hand, his gaze sharp yet playful. A grin spread slowly across his face, a predator's grin, calm yet deadly.

"You seem confused, Lucas," Krishna said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "Don't tell me… you didn't recognize me." His words lingered, soft but sharp as the edge of a blade.

Lucas didn't respond. His lips moved, but no words came out. His heart was thumping so loudly he was sure everyone in the room could hear it.

Krishna's grin widened. He straightened in his chair, tilted his head slightly, and spoke again—but this time, his voice was different. It was colder, deeper, carrying a weight that made the hairs on the back of Lucas's neck stand on end.

"How about now?" Krishna asked, his voice echoing like a ghost from the past.

Lucas's eyes widened in disbelief. His mouth hung open, his breath caught in his throat. "V... Vincenzo…?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

Krishna gave a small nod, his grin never fading.

Lucas's knees buckled, and he stumbled forward. "I'm so sorry, V! I didn't know! If I had known, I swear, I—"

Swish!

A flash of silver. A blur.

Before Lucas could finish his sentence, Krishna swung his arm with a flick of his wrist, sending his small axe flying through the air with terrifying precision. The sharp, deadly weapon spun end over end, moving so fast that none of the onlookers even registered what had happened until it was too late.

Thud!

The axe buried itself deep into Lucas's forehead with a sickening crack, splitting flesh and bone. Blood spurted from the wound in a thin arc before slowly trickling down his face like crimson tears. His eyes rolled back, and his body went limp. For a brief moment, his body hovered in place as if his mind hadn't caught up with reality.

Thump.

Lucas's lifeless body collapsed to the floor. His face remained twisted in shock, his eyes wide with fear, but the life had already left them. The metallic scent of blood seeped into the room, sharp and distinct.

The silence that followed was deafening. No one moved. No one even breathed. The only sound was the soft drip… drip… drip… of blood pooling beneath Lucas's head.

Jaidev's eyes were wide with terror, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. He scurried backward on his hands, his gaze fixed on Krishna.

Even Brahma, Deva, Masoom, and Daniyal glanced at each other, their faces briefly betraying a shared moment of realization. It wasn't shock—no, they were far too experienced for that. It was something deeper. A quiet understanding of what they had just witnessed.

The room was drenched in a suffocating silence. The soft thud of Lucas's lifeless body hitting the ground echoed in everyone's ears. His eyes, still open in shock, stared blankly at the ceiling, an axe buried deep in his forehead. Blood trickled down his face in slow, lazy streams, pooling on the cold marble floor.

Brahma, Deva, Masoom, and Daniyal all glanced at Krishna, their expressions a mix of resignation and quiet understanding. None of them spoke, but their shared glance spoke volumes. This is just Krishna being Krishna.

Krishna leaned back in his chair, tapping the armrest with his fingers in a rhythmic pattern. His eyes, once cold and sharp, softened to his usual playful demeanor. With a light sigh, he tilted his head, his expression one of mild annoyance.

"Why the long faces, huh?" Krishna said, his voice returning to its casual, laid-back tone. "He was wasting my time, that's all. I have to be back in Andhra by morning. I'm on a tight schedule here."

Another sigh escaped from Brahma, Deva, and Daniyal — a synchronized, knowing sigh. It was as if they had all rehearsed it.

"Always in a rush, this guy," Deva muttered, shaking his head.

Krishna's eyes drifted toward Daniyal, his grin playful once again. "Oi, Daniyal! Be a pal and get my axe for me, huh?"

Daniyal rolled his eyes, his annoyance not even masked. "Yeah, yeah, Boss," he muttered, walking toward Lucas's body. He crouched down, gripping the handle of the axe with one hand. Blood slicked his fingers as he yanked it free with a wet schlick sound. Wiping the handle with the edge of Lucas's own coat, Daniyal tossed it back.

"Here," he said flatly.

The axe spun in the air with a faint hum. Krishna reached out with a lazy flick of his wrist, catching it mid-spin like it was second nature. He gave it a quick glance, twirled it once in his hand, and nodded with a smile.

"Thanks, man," he said, twirling the axe once more before resting it on his lap like a pet he was fond of.

Meanwhile, Abdul, who had been frozen in place, suddenly snapped. His breath quickened, his chest heaving as panic set in. His eyes darted between the corpse of Lucas and Krishna, his body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.

"Please... please... I don't wanna die! Bhai! Masoom Bhai!" Abdul's voice cracked as he stumbled forward, falling to his knees in front of Masoom. He grabbed Masoom's legs with both hands, his grip desperate and tight. Tears streamed down his face as he cried like a child begging for forgiveness. "Save me, Bhai! Please! I didn't mean for this to happen! I didn't know! I don't want to die!"

Masoom looked down at Abdul, his face unreadable. He didn't move, didn't react. His eyes flickered toward Krishna, whose gaze had settled on Abdul with mild curiosity. Krishna tilted his head like a cat watching a mouse.

"So, Masoom Bhai," Krishna said, resting his elbow on the armrest and leaning his cheek against his palm. His voice was playful, but the weight of his words made everyone tense. "What do we do with him?"

Abdul's heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. He didn't dare lift his head. His sobs echoed in the room, his forehead pressed against Masoom's shoe.

Masoom's eyes lingered on Abdul for a moment longer before he lifted his gaze to Krishna. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Don't worry about him, Krishna Bhai," Masoom said in a calm, assuring voice. "I'll handle it."

Krishna's grin widened, his eyes half-lidded in satisfaction. He leaned back further, stretching his arms behind his head like he was settling into a recliner after a long day. "Alright," Krishna said casually.

The blood-stained floor glistened under the dim lights, and the metallic tang of iron still hung in the air. The only sounds were the distant hum of the AC and the soft creaks of leather as Krishna shifted in his chair, his small axe resting lazily on his lap.

His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flicked toward Jaidev, who sat on the floor with his back against the wall. Sweat dripped down Jaidev's face, soaking the collar of his shirt. His breathing was uneven, shallow gasps mixed with rapid exhales. His wild, darting eyes met Krishna's steady, unblinking gaze.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Krishna smiled, his lips curling into that familiar, mischievous grin that had unnerved so many before. "Jaidev," he said softly, his voice almost kind. "Didn't I tell you the first time we met? You had two choices: die by my hand… or kill yourself."

Silence.

Jaidev's eyes widened. His lips trembled, and his gaze darted around the room, searching for something—anything—that might help him. But there was nothing. He clenched his teeth, his mind spiraling.

Suddenly, a hollow, broken laugh escaped him. It started as a chuckle, then grew into a wild, shaky burst of laughter. His eyes darted back to Krishna, wide with desperation and madness.

"Hahaha… you… you think you've won, huh?" Jaidev's voice cracked as he spoke. His eyes darted like a cornered animal's, but his grin grew maniacal. "You think I'm some kind of fool? You think I didn't prepare for this day, Krishna?"

No one in the room moved. Not Brahma. Not Deva. Not Masoom. Not Daniyal. They just watched in silence, their gazes cold and detached.

Jaidev pointed a trembling finger at Krishna, his hand shaking as if it could barely hold up the weight of his own threat. "I know everything about you, Krishna. Your family in Hyderabad… your little girlfriends in Guntur. I know where they are. I sent my people there," Jaidev hissed, his eyes flashing with desperate defiance. "The moment something happens to me… they're dead. All of them. Your whole family. Your little lovebirds. Gone."

The room fell into a deeper silence.

Not a single sound.

It was the kind of silence that wasn't peaceful — it was the kind that weighed on your chest and crawled into your mind, forcing you to confront it.

Jaidev's grin widened, his gaze locked on Krishna, waiting for it — waiting for the reaction. Panic. Fear. Rage. Anything.

But Krishna didn't move.

He sat there, his body relaxed, like a king on his throne, head tilted slightly to the side. His fingers tapped the handle of his axe in a slow, steady rhythm. Tap. Tap. Tap. His eyes, half-lidded, were calm. Too calm.

Jaidev's grin faltered. His eyes darted toward the others — Brahma, Deva, Masoom, Daniyal. Surely they see it too? But no. They weren't looking at Jaidev.

They were looking at Krishna.

Brahma's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. Deva rubbed his forehead like he was stifling a laugh. Masoom shook his head, already seeing where this was going, while Daniyal leaned back on the wall, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his lips.

Then, like a spark hitting a pile of dry leaves—

They all burst into laughter.

Not polite laughter. Not forced laughter. It was loud, full-bodied, gut-wrenching laughter. Brahma sit in the chair, slapping his thigh like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. Deva clutched his stomach, his eyes squinting shut as tears threatened to fall. Masoom shook his head, chuckling softly but unable to hide his grin. Daniyal let out a short, sharp laugh through his nose, his eyes sharp and amused.

The echoes of laughter slowly faded, leaving only the rhythmic tapping of Krishna's fingers on the axe handle. Tap. Tap. Tap. Each tap rang louder in Jaidev's ears than the sound of Brahma's boisterous laughter moments before. His breathing grew ragged, his heart thudding in his chest like a war drum. His confusion was palpable, eyes darting between Krishna and the others, sweat dripping down his brow.

His mind screamed at him. Why are they laughing? Why aren't they afraid?!

Krishna leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the grin on his face no longer playful — it was sharp, predatory, like a wolf staring down a wounded deer. His eyes, half-lidded and calm before, now bore the weight of a storm. They were the eyes of a man who'd seen too much, done too much, and had nothing left to fear.

"Jaidev," Krishna said softly, his voice honeyed with mock sympathy, "you pathetic man. Do you really think you can win?" He leaned in closer, his gaze locking onto Jaidev like a hunter sizing up his prey. "A king can't rule the kingdom alone."

The weight of those words hit Jaidev harder than any blow could. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Jaidev stammered, his voice cracking like dry leaves underfoot.

Krishna's grin widened, his eyes narrowing in amusement. He leaned back again, stretching his arms with a relaxed sigh, like he had all the time in the world. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he began to hum.

It started slow — a soft, deep hum that vibrated in the still air. His fingers tapped in rhythm with the beat. Slowly, the hum turned into words. His voice, smooth like silk but sharp like a blade, echoed in the room.

"My life is in this town,

And I ain't going down.

You think that I'm CRAAAZY,

But I don't want the crown."

"My life is in this town,

And I ain't going down.

You think that I'm CRAAAZY,

But I don't want the crown."

"I'm just an ordinary person,

Yeah… just a peace-loving soul.

Ohh… hoo…"

"I'm just an ordinary person,

Yeah, just a peace-loving soul.

Peace-loving soul…"

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[GUNTUR]

The night was thick with darkness, but the moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale, ethereal glow over the quiet landscape. The sounds of insects chirping, and the gentle rustling of the farm wind whispered through the open windows, as if the night itself were alive, watching and waiting.

Inside the house, the atmosphere was heavy with calm. Ramana and Samba sat on the old wooden bed, a bottle of alcohol between them. Outside, the world seemed distant, with the faint murmurs of the night drifting in. The air felt thick and warm, wrapping itself around the house and keeping everything in a state of stillness.

Inside the compound, a few men were stationed around the gate, their presence barely noticeable in the dark. Others were counting the trucks coming through, making sure everything was in place. The world outside the house continued as normal.

Then, a lone figure emerged from the darkness and walked with purpose toward the house. His movements were calculated, each step deliberate. He slowly approached Ramana and Samba. He stood still for a moment before speaking, his voice low, yet calm.

"Bhai," the man said, his voice barely rising above the night's hum, "those people are here, hiding inside the farms. We spotted them."

The words hung in the air for a brief moment. Ramana's gaze lifted slowly from the bottle in his hand. He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, as if the man's news was nothing new. The night outside seemed to grow even quieter, the wind stilling as if waiting for Ramana's reaction.

Ramana's eyes narrowed, his expression flickering briefly with irritation. He took a long sip from his bottle before setting it down, his fingers tracing the rim as he stared off into the distance. The wind outside whistled against the walls, but it couldn't drown out the tension in the air.

"How many times," Ramana muttered to himself, his voice lazy but filled with frustration, "have I told Krishna not to create problems?" He leaned back, his head tilted toward the ceiling as though he were trying to let the words roll off him like water. "But he never listens." He shook his head slowly, the weariness in his gaze giving way to a brief, dark amusement. "That's why I don't like him."

The man who had brought the news stood still, unsure of whether to speak again.

Samba, however, looked sharply at Ramana. His voice came out in a hushed but urgent whisper, laced with concern. "Shu, shu, Bhaiyya," he said, glancing toward the door. "If Raji hears what you just said, she's gonna kill us."

Ramana's eyes shifted toward Samba, a slight smirk playing on his lips. The night air felt thick around them, almost suffocating. A soft breeze carried the faint smell of the farm and the distant sounds of insects, but here, with the weight of the moment pressing down on them, it seemed almost too quiet.

"Samba, it's seeming you've had a little too much tonight," Ramana said, his voice carrying an edge of concern laced with amusement. "Everyone's sleeping. Don't drink too much, alright?"

Samba, not missing a beat, grinned and waved off the concern, his eyes slightly glazed but sharp enough to notice every movement. "Nah, I'm fine. But let's go welcome our guests, yeah?" His words were laced with an undercurrent of anticipation. There was something about the tension in the air that fueled his restlessness.

Ramana, still calm, nodded, the bottle of alcohol in his hand gleaming under the moonlight. With a practiced motion, he took a long swig, then tossed the empty bottle to the ground, the sharp clink of glass hitting dirt breaking the silence. His movements were fluid, deliberate.

As they neared the gate, Ramana shifted his stance slightly, lifting one leg and quickly pulling the edge of his lungii. With a swift motion, he tied it into a knot, securing it around his waist with ease. He looked like a man who had done this countless times, the movement effortless, almost graceful. His gaze flickered to the man standing near the truck, who seemed to be waiting for a signal.

Ramana raised his hand, his fingers slicing through the air with authority. At once, the man inside the truck tossed two koytas, the curved daggers spinning elegantly toward them. In perfect synchrony, Ramana and Samba both reached up, catching the weapons mid-air with practiced precision.

"Some of you stay here. If anyone enter the house, I'll kill you all myself," Ramana's voice was low but commanding, each word dripping with unspoken threat. His gaze swept across the men gathered around them, and they immediately stiffened, acknowledging his command with silent nods.

"Good," Ramana muttered, then turned on his heel, his eyes narrowing toward the looming farm in the distance. He raised his voice again, his tone sharp with purpose. "The rest of you, come with us. Let's go greet our guests."

Without hesitation, the group fell into line, pulling out their sharp weapons, the metallic gleam catching in the pale moonlight. Some men remained behind, while others began following Ramana and Samba. Their steps were deliberate, their movements fluid, each man a cog in the machine that was Ramana's carefully orchestrated world.

The tension in the air was palpable, as if the entire night was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable clash.

Ramana led the charge toward the farms, his every step deliberate, the air around him charged with an energy that felt both inevitable and dangerous. Samba, close behind, was quieter now, the drunken bravado fading as his senses sharpened.

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[HYDERABAD]

The night in Hyderabad was calm, a cool breeze rustling the leaves of the trees as the city settled into a hushed slumber. The distant hum of the city, the faint chatter of late-night workers, and the occasional car passing by created a serene backdrop. Yet, amidst the stillness, something stirred.

Bheeshma stepped out of his house, the heavy wooden door creaking as it closed behind him. The night air hit his face, cool and uninviting, but he welcomed it. His eyes flicked to the sky — a sea of stars stretched endlessly above, untouched by the chaos of the world below. He stood there for a moment, as if savoring the silence, before his gaze shifted downward, focusing on the path ahead.

Without a second thought, he moved toward the gate. The metal bars squeaked as he pushed the gate open, stepping out into the street. The quietness of the neighborhood contrasted sharply with the tension in the air around him.

A group of men stood not far from his house, their figures silhouetted by the dim streetlights. Each of them held a weapon — knives, machetes, and blunt instruments that gleamed faintly in the low light. The scent of fresh metal and the unspoken threat in the air were unmistakable. Yet, Bheeshma's expression remained unchanged. His calmness was unsettling, almost as if he were unbothered by their presence.

The men eyed him, waiting for a reaction, a sign of fear, but Bheeshma didn't flinch. His face remained as stoic as ever, his gaze fixed forward. He continued walking, unhurried and unafraid, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. The men exchanged uneasy glances but followed him nonetheless, keeping a careful distance.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the stillness as Bheeshma walked down the narrow street. His pace was steady, his body relaxed, moving with an almost deliberate grace. The men behind him trailed, keeping their distance, their weapons twitching in their hands, ready for anything. But Bheeshma did not give them the satisfaction of even a glance. He was unfazed, indifferent to their presence.

Soon, he reached a darkened alley, the shadows swallowing him as he stepped into the lane. The air grew heavier here, thicker with the scent of damp earth and the faint smell of burning incense from a nearby temple. His footsteps reverberated off the walls, a rhythmic sound in the silence.

The men, still following, paused at the entrance of the alley. They stood there, unsure whether to follow or wait. Bheeshma didn't look back. His feet carried him forward, and soon he stopped. The sudden halt caught the attention of the men. They stopped too, just out of arm's reach. The alley was dark, and oppressive, and Bheeshma stood still, he turned to them.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing and the rustling of leaves from afar. Bheeshma didn't speak, didn't move. His eyes slowly scanned the men, taking in their weapons, their anxious stances. But there was no urgency in his gaze, no anger, only calmness — a deep, unnerving calm.

After a brief silence, Bheeshma broke it with a soft sigh, his voice filled with mocking amusement. "You people are really idiots, aren't you?" he said, his lips curving into a smirk. "If you really wanted to catch me, why didn't you do it earlier? Follow me, track my movements, make a plan. You just wait until I'm cornered, and now you think you're clever?"

One of the men, clearly frustrated, stepped forward, his voice laced with arrogance. "You think you're smart? You come to this dark lane all alone—do you really believe it's hard for us to catch you?" His eyes flickered with the satisfaction of the perceived advantage.

Bheeshma's smirk only grew. His expression was cold, calculating, as he met the man's gaze. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, his voice dripping with an eerie calm.

Before the man could respond, a sudden shift in the atmosphere caused the group to tense. From behind Bheeshma, the unmistakable sound of a car engine roared to life, its headlights cutting through the dark like a spear of light. The figures around Bheeshma froze, their attention now drawn to the approaching vehicle.

The car screeched to a halt, and the door opened with a sharp click. From the shadows, Seenu stepped out. His presence was imposing, his eyes scanning the surroundings with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what was happening. He didn't seem at all concerned, as if he had been expecting this. His gaze briefly flicked over to Bheeshma, offering a small, almost playful smile.

"Tomorrow I have a lot of work to do in the office," Seenu said, his tone casual, almost as if he were talking about the weather. He stretched slightly, his movements fluid. "I don't have time for games. I want to sleep, so let's wrap this up quickly, shall we?"

The silence of the night was suddenly shattered by the sharp clatter of metal. Seenu opened the car door with swift movements and pulled out two machine guns, the cold steel reflecting the faint glow of the streetlights. Without hesitation, he tossed one of the guns to Bheeshma, who caught it expertly, his eyes scanning the darkened surroundings.

In a fluid motion, the two men raised their weapons and, with barely a word exchanged, opened fire. The air was immediately filled with the deafening crack of gunshots, the sound bouncing off the narrow alleyway, cutting through the stillness like a violent storm. The light from the guns flashed brightly, illuminating the otherwise dark and silent street in brief bursts of brilliance. Bullets whizzed through the air, striking their targets with deadly precision. The men who had been standing guard collapsed one by one, their bodies jerking violently as the bullets tore through them, their blood splattering onto the pavement in dark, spreading pools.

The street quickly became a chaotic scene of death, the once-quiet road now a grisly canvas painted in crimson. Seenu and Bheeshma's hands were steady, their focus unwavering as they continued their assault until the last of the bodies hit the ground. The sound of the guns slowly tapered off as the men stopped firing, the smoke from the barrels drifting into the cool night air.

Bheeshma lowered his gun, his expression unchanged, though his eyes held a cold emptiness. He looked toward the edge of the street, where the shadows gathered, before speaking with calm authority. "Clean this mess," he ordered, his voice low and deliberate.

Without waiting for a response, Bheeshma turned to Seenu. "Let's go," he said, his tone casual as if they hadn't just taken down a small army. "Drop me home. I've got to get some sleep. Office tomorrow, and then I need to go shopping with Chaitra."

Seenu nodded silently, the weight of their actions hanging in the air, but his face betrayed nothing. He tossed his gun into the back seat of the car, his movements automatic, and slid into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life, and with that, they were gone—speeding off into the night, leaving the carnage behind them.

As they drove off, a few figures emerged from the shadows at the end of the alley.

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—————————————

[BACK TO KRISHNA]

The room grew deathly silent, the air thick with tension. Jaidev's face was slick with sweat, his chest rising and falling with panicked breaths. His trembling hands fumbled as he pulled his phone from his pocket. The glow of the screen illuminated his pale, desperate face as he frantically dialed.

His eyes darted toward Krishna, heart pounding like a war drum. The first call went unanswered. His eyes twitched. He called again — still no response. His breaths became shallow gasps, his fingers moving faster, calling every number he had.

Ring... Ring...

Nothing.

The phone slipped from his hands and clattered onto the blood-stained floor.

"No… no, no, no… This can't be…" Jaidev muttered, his voice barely a whisper. His gaze slowly rose, locking onto Krishna. His pupils shrank as he saw that smile. That infuriating, lazy smile, like Krishna was watching a child throw a tantrum.

"It's useless, Jaidev," Krishna said calmly, his eyes sharp as a blade's edge. "They're all dead."

Jaidev's breath hitched in his throat. His lips moved, trying to form words, but no sound came out. His gaze darted around the room, searching for anything — anyone — that could deny Krishna's words. His eyes landed on Brahma, Deva, Daniyal, and Masoom. But they all wore the same expression — cold, unbothered, already knowing the outcome before it had even begun.

Panic. Pure, unfiltered panic clawed at Jaidev's mind. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. His body felt heavy, his hands numb. I'm done for, he realized, the weight of it crashing down on him like an avalanche.

He gasped for air, his body twitching. His vision blurred as tears welled up. "Krishna... please… let me go. I'll disappear. I'll never come back. I swear!" he pleaded, his voice cracking like brittle glass.

But Krishna didn't reply. He just watched him, that same lazy smile still etched on his face, like a king watching a jester's last performance. Brahma's gaze shifted to Daniyal, a subtle signal exchanged between them.

"Daniyal," Brahma said, his voice sharp and commanding.

Daniyal nodded, his face expressionless, like he'd done this a thousand times before. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, familiar item — a poison-laced inhaler.

Jaidev's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened as his gaze locked onto the inhaler. His head snapped toward Daniyal, then to Brahma. "N-no… NO!" he stammered, his voice rising in pitch. His fingers dug into the ground, his legs weak beneath him.

Brahma's footsteps echoed in the room as he approached. Calm. Measured. Each step filled with a sense of inevitability. His face was blank, but his eyes were cold, as if he'd already moved on from Jaidev's fate.

He crouched in front of Jaidev, letting the inhaler fall from his fingers. It hit the ground with a dull clink, rolling forward until it stopped right in front of Jaidev's knees. Brahma stood, looking down at him with quiet disdain, his gaze as heavy as stone.

Jaidev's heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst. His eyes darted between the inhaler and the faces of the men surrounding him. No sympathy. No mercy. Just quiet judgment.

"You know what to do," Brahma said, his voice as cold as winter's frost.

Jaidev shook his head frantically. "Please, Brahma, I-I was wrong! I'll leave the city, the country even! I'll go so far you'll never see me again! I swear on my life!" He crawled forward, clutching at Brahma's pants. "Please, please, PLEASE!" he sobbed, his tears mixing with the blood on the floor.

Brahma didn't move. His eyes didn't blink. He just watched Jaidev, unmoved.

Then, from behind him, Krishna's voice came, calm and quiet but filled with the weight of a verdict.

"Now choose, Jaidev."

Jaidev froze. Slowly, his eyes turned toward Krishna.

Krishna's gaze was locked on him, and though his posture was as lazy as ever, there was no mistaking the threat hidden behind those calm eyes. Krishna slowly raised his axe, resting it on his shoulder. The dull gleam of the blood-stained blade reflected in Jaidev's eyes.

The world felt smaller. The sound of his breathing grew louder. His eyes darted back to the inhaler lying in front of him, inches away from his hand. He glanced at the axe, then back to the inhaler. His fingers twitched. The axe… the inhaler… the axe… the inhaler…

His breath grew shallow, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

The axe's shadow loomed larger as Krishna stood, slowly approaching him. His eyes stayed locked on Jaidev, no words necessary.

"No… No… no… please…" Jaidev whimpered, his eyes red from tears. His breathing hitched as he reached forward with a trembling hand, his fingers hovering over the inhaler. His heart told him to run, but his body didn't move. There was no way out. No one was coming for him. His men were dead. His leverage was gone. He was cornered.

His hand hovered there for what felt like an eternity, his fingers twitching. Finally, his fingers curled around the inhaler. His breaths came out in shallow, panicked gasps. His lips quivered, his body shivering as if he'd been thrown into a frozen lake.

His fingers felt numb as he raised the inhaler toward his mouth. Tears streaked down his face, his lips parted as he pressed the nozzle into his mouth. His eyes flicked to Krishna one last time, as if hoping for some sign of mercy.

There was none.

With a final, desperate breath, he pressed the inhaler. Click.

The poison entered his lungs. His body jolted. His fingers spasmed, dropping the inhaler as his body convulsed. His eyes rolled back, his mouth foaming. Every muscle in his body seized as if lightning had struck him.

"No… No…!" Jaidev gasped, his final words barely a whisper. His body thrashed for a few seconds before falling still. His eyes remained open, lifeless and glassy.

Silence.

The only sound was the soft thud of his body collapsing onto the ground, his face twisted in frozen terror.

No one spoke. No one moved. The air felt heavier than ever, like the room itself was suffocating.

Brahma stared down at the lifeless body for a moment, his eyes cold and indifferent. He clicked his tongue, glancing at Daniyal. "Take care of it."

Daniyal nodded, his face blank. "On it."

Krishna's eyes lingered on Jaidev's corpse for a moment before he let out a long, slow breath. His gaze shifted to Brahma, and he tilted his head to the side, that lazy smile returning.

"See? Told you he'd choose," Krishna said, his voice as light as ever, as if discussing the outcome of a game.

Masoom clicked his tongue. "Could've saved us ten minutes if he just did it from the start."

"People like Jaidev never go quietly," Deva muttered, stretching his arms.

Brahma wiped his hands on a cloth, his eyes distant. "Doesn't matter, It's over now."

Krishna stretched his body, his muscles flexing beneath his fitted black shirt, exhaling deeply as if shedding the weight of the night's events. "Finally, it's over," he muttered, his tone a mix of relief and satisfaction. His eyes swept over the room, sharp but calm, like a predator after a successful hunt. "Let's go."

Hearing this, Brahma, Deva, Masoom, and Warina nodded in silent agreement. Their eyes met briefly, a shared understanding passing between them. No words were needed — they had seen enough for one night. Their movements were steady, deliberate, not a trace of hesitation in their steps. Each of them knew what had been done, and none of them were strangers to it.

Krishna's gaze shifted to Warina. She was still seated, her posture straight, her eyes calm as she observed everything around her. Unlike before, there was no shock on her face. Her eyes no longer widened in disbelief; instead, they reflected quiet acceptance. She had seen too much tonight to remain naive. Perhaps, a part of her had finally started to understand Krishna's world — the one he ruled with charm and calculated violence.

Their eyes met. Krishna's usual playful grin returned, the sharpness in his eyes replaced by something softer, almost mischievous. He raised his hand in a silent gesture, a beckoning invitation. No words were necessary.

Warina arched a brow, tilting her head in mild defiance, but her lips tugged into a faint smirk. "Tch," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she stood. With smooth, confident steps, she followed him out of the mansion.

Outside, the night air was fresh but carried a faint metallic tang. The moon hung like a pale coin in the sky, while the rhythmic thump of helicopter blades echoed in the distance, slowly growing louder. The courtyard was alive with movement. Several helicopters were lined up, their rotors spinning lazily, cutting the cool night air with rhythmic precision. The spotlight beams danced over the ground like restless spirits.

Krishna exchanged farewells with Deva, Masoom, and Brahma. Their handshakes were firm, their smiles faint but genuine. There was no need for lengthy goodbyes. They had done this before, and they would do it again. Brahma, unusually quiet tonight, glanced at Krishna before giving him a nod. He was leaving with them this time. Daniyal had already gone ahead — Krishna had given him other tasks to handle.

With everything settled, Krishna walked toward his helicopter. The rhythmic thump of the rotors grew louder with every step, the downwash of wind tousling his hair. Warina followed close behind, her eyes focused on him, her steps unwavering.

He reached the open side door of the helicopter and stepped in, his movements smooth and effortless. He turned back to Warina, his gaze filled with a playful spark. Smiling, he stretched out his hand toward her like a gentleman from an old tale. "May I?" he asked, his tone laced with playful charm.

Warina raised a brow, her lips parting in silent disbelief. She crossed her arms, her gaze skeptical. For a moment, she stood still, letting the weight of his offer linger in the air. But after a breath, she gave him her hand. "You're impossible," she muttered, stepping onto the edge.

But just as she climbed up, Krishna's grin widened into something wicked. His grip tightened around her hand, and with one sudden pull, he yanked her toward him.

"Ah—!" Warina gasped, but it was too late.

She didn't fall. No, Krishna caught her. But instead of letting her stand, he guided her directly onto his lap. The sudden shift caught her off guard, and before she could react, she found herself seated firmly on him. Her back pressed lightly against his chest, her face mere inches from his.

Her breath hitched, her eyes widened, and a flash of realization flickered across her face. She turned her head to meet his gaze, her face heating up from a mix of surprise and irritation.

"Seriously?" she muttered, her brows knitting together in mild frustration. Her eyes bore into his, sharp like daggers.

Krishna leaned his head back against the seat, his grin ever-present, his eyes half-lidded with a mischievous glint. "Comfort is important," he quipped, his voice smooth as silk. "Besides, you look better here."

Warina's eyes narrowed. "You're unbelievable, Krishna." Her words were laced with annoyance, but there was no real venom in them.

"That's what makes me unforgettable," he replied with a wink.

The helicopter jerked as it lifted off the ground. Warina felt the subtle tremor beneath her, and her eyes flickered toward the open door as the world outside began to shrink. The mansion grew smaller, its lights dimming into the distance. The cold night air crept in, but she felt none of it. Her body was warm, her heart stilling from the earlier tension.

As the helicopter soared higher, the rotors drowned out all other sounds. Warina leaned forward slightly, her eyes on the horizon.

Suddenly, Krishna moved with swift precision, taking Warina by surprise. Before she could fully react, their faces were mere inches apart. The heat of their proximity lingered in the air, her breasts pressing against his chest, her breath hitching slightly as she met his intense gaze.

Krishna's hand, warm and firm, slid to her waist, his grip tight but gentle, as if anchoring her in place. Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting moment, neither spoke, the silence thick with tension.

Warina, her pulse quickening, broke the silence first. "Krishna... what are you doing?" Her voice, though soft, carried a mixture of confusion and a hint of disbelief.

Krishna's smile deepened, playful, almost mischievous. "What? Nothing," he replied, his voice a low murmur.

Warina rolled her eyes, trying to regain her composure, but the sudden shift in the air made it hard to focus. "Krishna, let go of me. Your shirt... it smells like blood." Her words were sharp, but her heart raced in a way she couldn't explain.

Krishna's grin only widened at her words. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement. Without another word, he gently released her waist and began pulling off his shirt, ignoring the weight of the moment.

"Krishna, what are you doing?" Warina's voice trembled as she watched him, her eyes widening in disbelief.

But Krishna didn't answer. His actions were deliberate as he tossed his shirt aside. He pull her closer, his hands returning to her waist, his eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. "Better?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender.

Warina couldn't help but roll her eyes in exasperation. "You just killed a bunch of people, and now you're in this mood? How can someone's mood change so quickly?" Her words, though laced with frustration, were tinted with a certain disbelief.

Hearing Warina's words, Krishna let out a soft, almost indifferent smile. "Well, what's happened is done. I don't care anymore," he said, his voice carrying a strange calmness, as if detached from the weight of his actions. He paused for a moment, his gaze distant. "And it's not like the people I killed were innocent."

Warina stiffened, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if searching for some hint of remorse or justification in his tone. But Krishna's face remained unreadable, his calmness unsettling her more than anything. Krishna's eyes flicked to her, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"No one innocent dies here today," Krishna continued, his words carrying a sense of finality, as if he had long since made peace with the path he had chosen. He turned, pointing towards a distant ship that sailed steadily toward Mumbai. The dim lights of the vessel glimmered under the moonlight, its silhouette cutting through the darkness like a ghost. "All the innocent people are inside that ship," Krishna said, his voice oddly calm, "with Daniyal. He's taking them back to Mumbai."

Warina's eyes followed his hand as it gestured towards the ship, her gaze lingering on the distant vessel. For a long moment, the two seat in silence, the soft hum of the night the only sound between them. Warina's thoughts seemed to swirl, but she remained quiet, her mind trying to grasp the full weight of Krishna's words.

Then, their eyes met again. Krishna's smile was faint, yet it held an intensity that was both unsettling and captivating. There was no fear in his gaze, no second thoughts, just an undeniable confidence — or perhaps a resignation. His expression softened ever so slightly as he studied her, his voice breaking the silence.

"What are you thinking, Warina?" he asked, the question light but laden with an unspoken weight.

Warina kept her gaze locked with Krishna's eyes, unwavering, her expression calm yet distant. Her voice came soft but firm, carrying a quiet strength. "I'm thinking about my future," she said, her eyes narrowing just slightly. "I'm an orphan. Ever since I was a kid, I've faced more challenges than I can count. At first, I thought it was unfair… but as I grew up, I realized that's just how society works." Her words carried the weight of experience, her tone neither bitter nor regretful—just honest.

Her gaze shifted for a moment, as if lost in memory. "In college, I met Arjun. We became friends. More than friends, actually—he's like family to me. The only family I have." Her voice softened at the mention of his name. "We decided to join RWA together so we could serve this country. It wasn't just a dream — it was something we believed in."

Her eyes returned to Krishna, sharp yet thoughtful. "You've saved him many times," she continued, her gaze unwavering. "Operation Laughing Buddha and all the others… I know what you did for him." She took a slow breath, her voice steady but carrying a hint of something deeper—perhaps gratitude, perhaps doubt. "I didn't want to say it, but I'm grateful to you for that."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her brows furrowing slightly. "But I don't understand something," she added, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "When you said you were taking me with you… why didn't Arjun react? He didn't say anything. Not a word."

Krishna watched her in silence for a moment, his gaze sharp but unreadable, as if calculating her every thought. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smile—calm, assured, and just a little playful. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

Warina tilted her head slightly, studying him with a mix of suspicion and clarity. Her eyes narrowed as realization began to dawn on her. "He knows you, doesn't he?" she said, her tone more certain than questioning.

For a moment, Krishna didn't reply. The silence hung between them like a taut string, humming with unspoken meaning. His eyes never left hers, but his smile grew wider, more amused. After a pause, he finally spoke, his voice carrying a playful edge.

"I don't know anyone named Arjun," he said casually, leaning back as if to emphasize his detachment. "But I do know a man named Ramakrishna. A bank officer from Hyderabad." His eyes twinkled with mischief, his grin sharper now. "He's my brother's classmate. We're… friends."

Warina's eyes lingered on Krishna's for a moment longer, searching for something—perhaps an answer, perhaps reassurance. Then, with a deep, heavy sigh, she lowered her gaze briefly before lifting it again, a small smile forming on her lips for the first time that night. It wasn't a forced smile. It wasn't a mask. It was real.

"That's his normal identity now," she said softly, as if the realization had just settled into place. Her smile grew just a little, a mix of acceptance and understanding. "Now I get it. That's why he didn't say anything."

Krishna tilted his head, his smile playful but his eyes sharp, watching her like a predator amused by its prey. "It seems you've finally relaxed," he said, his voice as smooth as silk, carrying an ease that only he could manage after everything that had happened.

Warina glanced at him, her eyes narrowing in mock defiance. "Relaxed, huh? Maybe a little," she admitted, letting out a small chuckle. "But I'm still worried about my future."

Hearing that, Krishna's smile shifted into something deeper—something more personal. He slowly released his grip on her waist, but only to move his hands upward. His fingers traced her jawline with surprising gentleness, cupping her face as if she were something fragile yet precious. His gaze bore into hers, and for the first time, there was no teasing, no mischief—only quiet intensity.

"You know," he said, his voice low and steady, "I'm a bad guy." His thumb gently brushed against her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm going to force you to follow me for the rest of your life."

Warina's heart skipped for a moment, but instead of flinching, she smiled. It wasn't the smile of someone afraid—it was the smile of someone ready to accept a challenge. Her eyes narrowed with playful defiance. "Try if you can," she said, her voice firm but laced with mischief of her own.

Krishna's eyes flashed with something wild. And before Warina could react, he moved. Fast. Decisive.

Her breath caught in her throat as his lips claimed hers. It wasn't gentle, nor was it rough—it was somewhere in between. A kiss filled with conviction, with intent. For a second, her body tensed in surprise. Her mind screamed at her to push him away, to say something—but her body betrayed her. Her heart, her breath, and every part of her seemed to surrender to that moment.

The warmth of his lips, the faint taste of copper still lingering from the bloodstains, the heat radiating from his body—all of it felt overwhelming, like a wave crashing over her senses. Slowly, the tension in her body eased, her fingers gripping the fabric of his pants for support.

Time seemed to stop.

When Krishna finally pulled away, his eyes were locked on hers, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. Her breath was shallow, her eyes wide, and her lips still tingled from the sensation.

With a crooked smile, he leaned in just close enough for his words to brush against her skin. "This," he said softly, his eyes filled with certainty, "is your future."

For a moment, Warina didn't say anything. Her heart was still racing, her breath uneven. Then, her eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a small smirk. "Now you have to take responsibility," she said, her voice steady, bold, and filled with quiet determination.

Warina's gaze didn't waver. Her eyes, sharp yet calm, locked onto Krishna's as she leaned forward slowly. There was no hesitation this time. Her hands gently cupped his face, her fingertips brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. Her eyes searched his for a moment, looking for doubt, mischief, or hesitation—but she found none.

Without a word, she closed the distance.

Her lips met his in a kiss that was firm but tender, carrying the weight of everything unspoken between them. It wasn't rushed, nor was it uncertain. It was steady, filled with quiet resolve.

Krishna, his heart pounding like a war drum, responded with equal fervor. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, a dance of tongues and teeth, a symphony of desire. His hands, strong and possessive, found their way to her waist, pulling her closer, while hers tangled in his hair, a silent plea for more.

Outside, a distant BOOM echoed through the night. A flash of light illuminated the sky for a brief moment as the mansion erupted into flames. The blast shook the air, but neither of them flinched. Not even a glance. It felt like the world outside had become irrelevant.

His hand moved to the small of her back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on her waist. Warina's fingers remained on his face, holding him steady as if grounding herself in that moment. The weight of the world, the chaos of battle, and the uncertainties of the future—all of it seemed to dissolve.

Krishna's hands, once gentle, now grew bolder. They traced the curve of her hips, the softness of her skin igniting a fire within him. His fingers, like embers, danced across her back, sending shivers down her spine. Warina, her breath ragged, her eyes half-lidded, arched into his touch, a silent invitation.

Their kiss deepened, a desperate hunger consuming them both. Krishna's tongue, a playful serpent, teased and tormented hers, eliciting a low moan from her lips. His hands, no longer content with mere exploration, found their way to her breasts, kneading and squeezing, awakening a storm of sensations within her.

Warina, her body ablaze, clung to him, her nails digging into his back. She met his every advance with equal fervor, her own hands mirroring his, exploring the contours of his body. Their bodies, slick with sweat, moved as one, a primal dance of passion and desire.

As their breaths grew ragged, they broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other. Their eyes, filled with a mix of lust and tenderness, locked once more.

"I didn't know how this happened," Warina whispered, her voice husky, "but you better take responsibility, Mr. Krishna."

Krishna grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Gladly," he replied, his voice a low rumble.

With a possessive smirk, he squeezed her breast once more, his fingers teasing her nipple. He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses. Warina, her body trembling with anticipation, wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer.

(A/N: I am taking a little break as my exams are starting from Monday. That's why I've been posting chapters continuously, but there will be a short break. Don't worry, though—I'll write whenever I get the time.)

(A/N: If you'd like to support me, please use this UPI: omgadekar29@oksbi "Om Gadekar". If you do, please let me know your webnovel name so I can recognize you.)

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