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“I am not worried about myself,” I cut him off. “My grandson is here. I won’t risk Veer’s life by moving into the open. We’re safer here in the house until Vishnu can get us back to Mumbai safely.”

Before they can argue further, a sharp buzzing sound pierces through the air, growing louder by the second. Several armed guards rush outside, weapons drawn, while others try to usher me toward my room.

“I need to get to Veer first!” I shout, resisting their grip.

“DRONES!” A frantic voice from outside sends a chill down my spine. “Drones incoming! Take cover! Eliminate them! Shoot! Shoot!”

My head snaps toward the windows. Through the glass, I spot them—multiple drones, swarming toward the farmhouse at alarming speed.

Gunfire erupts outside as my guards engage. The deafening noise of bullets fills the air, along with frantic orders barked over the chaos. The windows shudder violently under the onslaught, glass threatening to give way as my guards fire relentlessly.

Just then, Veer’s terrified wail echoes from within. His nanny emerges from a room upstairs, fear evident in her eyes as she clutches my grandson tightly in her arms.

I rush to them, my security forming a protective cover around us. Veer is trembling, his little hands tightly gripping my kurta. Taking him into my arms, I kiss him on his head, trying to soothe his fears, even as my own worry multiplies.

It is then that I hear it—the distinctive whup-whup-whup of helicopter blades slicing through air, drowning out everything else. The ground seems to vibrate beneath my feet as I glance out the window in horror. A military-grade Black Hawk hovers over my garden, the wind from its powerful rotor blades flattening everything in its path, the trees bending wildly under its force. My blood turns cold as I watch ropes drop from the chopper. Almost a dozen men in tactical gear rappel down, their weapons glinting in the harsh sunlight.

My guards react instantly and open fire. Two attackers go down, but the others find cover and return fire with military precision. I realise they have come prepared. For me.

This isn’t just an attack. This is a full-fledged military-style assault. A full-blown war!

“Sir, we need to move—now!” One of my men grabs my arm.

The drones are everywhere now, and these aren’t mere surveillance units. They’re armed, their mounted weapons scanning for movement. Two of my most loyal guards manage to shoot down several drones before becoming targets themselves.

A new, heavier sound cuts through the chaos—the unmistakable thud of boots storming inside.

“They’re getting inside the house! Cover the Asset.”

My remaining security quickly hustles us into a room, but before they can secure us, dozens of armed drones swarm inside through the shattered windows, their in-built ammunition shooting down my men. My guards retaliate, trying to hold them off, but the assault is relentless. For every drone they take down, two more seem to appear. A few guards manage to take them down, but one by one, they’re overwhelmed, leaving us cornered.

“INSIDE! NOW!” One of my men shoves me, Veer and his nanny into a room and slam the door behind us.

But before it locks, a drone appears just in time and open fires, the bullet hitting my man square in the chest. The nanny screams as he staggers and collapses on the floor. Blood pools beneath him, and my stomach twists in helpless rage. People are sacrificing their lives to protect me, and I’m standing here, doing nothing.

I hand Veer back to his nanny and move to lock the door myself, but two drones glide through the room and block my path. My body stiffens. They don’t fire. They’re waiting—tracking my every move. Every step I take, they counter—not firing, but deliberately preventing me from securing the room.

Someone is watching and controlling these machines with frightening precision. I barely get a second to react before the door bursts open, and two masked men charge in, their rifles aimed directly at me. The drones hover behind them like mechanical guard dogs, moving in perfect sync. The nanny gasps, clutching Veer tightly.

One of the men heads straight for the nanny, but I step between them, my voice sharp and commanding.

“Don’t touch them.”

Before I can react, the second assailant slams me against the wall, his gun pressing against my chest.

“Move—and your grandson dies,” he warns, his voice cold and unyielding.

Rage cuts through my fear. “You won’t be spared!” I snarl. “If you think this is over—”

They don’t flinch. My threats fall on deaf ears as they shove the nanny aside and snatch Veer from her.

My grandson’s terrified screams tear at my soul. My vision turns red, and I lunge forward, desperate to stop them, but the assailant’s strong hands grab me, pressing the gun to my temple. They drag me from the room, Veer’s wails following us, each cry twisting deeper into my chest like a knife.

When I resist again, he slams me to the ground with force and aims the gun now at Veer, who is bawling in the other assailant’s arms.

“Try that again...” he warns, his finger brushing the trigger, “and I’ll make you regret it.”

They pull me up again and force me to walk through what was once my peaceful home, now reduced to a war zone. My guards—my people—lie strewn across the floor, some groaning in pain, others terrifyingly still, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing.