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Pratap tilts his head slightly. And then, he smirks again.

“A man who knows he’s going to fail wears that kind of fear. The kind I see on your face right now,” he replies, grinning.

Fury explodes inside me as I lunge forward, my hand locking around his throat in a vice-like grip. I squeeze, watching his face redden as he struggles to breathe. His body tenses, veins straining against his skin, but even then, there is no fear—only defiance.

I release him abruptly, watching as he gasps for air, struggling to steady himself.

“Now, do you see who is losing, Walia?” I hiss, leaning in closer. “It’s you. Not me. Never me.” My voice drops to a dangerous growl.

He coughs, his breath shaky, but recovers quickly. I press on.

“You should be thankful I didn’t kill you at your Alibaug farmhouse. That would have been far too easy,” I sneer. “I wanted you here, in this house. The very place where my father promised your son that his blood will take revenge on the Walias. The same house… where he took his last breath.”

“You’re living in a delusion, Zayed,” he says, still catching his breath. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

He looks at me steadily.

“You’ve abducted the Chief Minister of Maharashtra. Do you really think they won’t find you? And forget the authorities—do you honestly thinkmyson Vishnu won’t hunt you down?”

My jaw clenches so hard it hurts.

“I was the one telling him to let the law punish you,” Pratap continues, his voice calm yet dangerous. “But now? You’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. My son doesn’t just love me, Zayed. He worships me like a God. And today, you dared to lay a hand on his God. Vishnu won’t let this go. I’m confident he is already on his way here. And when he arrives, he won’t stop until he has your blood on his hands. Not even I can change his mind now.”

The rage consumes me. I lash out at Pratap, hitting him square on his face before kicking him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“For me, even my father was a God,” I growl. “And your son killed my God. So, even his God—you—deserve to die.”

Pratap grunts in pain, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. But I don’t stop. I kick him again, watching him fall limp against the chair.

Gripping his hair, I yank his head up, forcing him to look at me. His eyes open slightly, dazed but still defiant.

“If Vishnu comes here, he will find your dead body waiting for him,” I snarl. “And then I will kill him, too. I’ll bury both your bodies together in the backyard of this farmhouse as a tribute to my father’s soul.”

Snatching the poisoned tea, I graze the cup to his lips. He thrashes wildly, but his struggles weaken under my grip.

“Goodbye, Walia. Wait for your son in hell—I’ll send him soon.”

The cup touches his mouth, but before I can force the tea down his throat, a burst of gunfire echoes from outside. Glass splinters in every direction as bullets rip through the windows. The teacup slips from my hand and the poison splatters across the floor.

Shouts of alarm echo through the house. My men spring into action, drawing their weapons.

“They’re here!” one of my men yells as everyone scrambles for cover. “Vishnu… Walia’s son is out there with his team and the police!”

I whip my head toward the door, my blood boiling as I hear the unmistakable roar of Vishnu Walia’s voice outside.

So, he made it here? That was quick.

VISHNU

Few Minutes Ago…

The helicopter blades slice through the night air as we descend over Panvel. Every second feels like an eternity, knowing Dad is trapped inside that cursed farmhouse of Qureshi, held hostage by his psychotic son, who has sworn to destroy my family. Zayed Qureshi. A mistake I should have erased long ago. Not this time. Not tonight.

Ayaan has already mobilised the police, his team firmly in position. The plan is straightforward: secure Dad, block every exit and prevent Zayed’s escape.

They want to arrest him, but I have other plans.

Tonight, this ends permanently.