Kairav recovered quickly, adjusting his cufflinks with exaggerated calm, but his gaze swept the hall, searching. When his eyes found Shivam's across the crowd, the recognition carried weight. This wasn't coincidence. He understood now that Shivam's presence and the chaos in his earpiece were threads of the same plan.
Bhumika felt Shivam tense, her voice sharp in a whisper. "What is it?"
He didn't answer her directly. His hand lifted to his ear, subtle, the gesture invisible to most but clear to those who knew. His voice was a low murmur meant for one. "Mansi. Cut the lights."
The orchestra shifted awkwardly as the pause on stage stretched too long. Brijesh leaned toward Kairav, whispering something inaudible, but Kairav barely moved, his eyes fixed like a hawk on Shivam.
The crowd continued to applaud, unaware of the invisible currents moving under their feet. Chandeliers glittered above, the shard pulsed within its cage, and somewhere in the dark of the city a factory alarm screamed unanswered.
The gala was no longer just a celebration. It was a battlefield waiting for the first shot. The chandeliers went dark. One heartbeat the hall glittered in gold and crystal, the next it drowned in black. The gasps and murmurs turned into shrieks. Glass shattered as someone dropped a wine flute. High heels scraped against marble, chairs toppled, and the once elegant gala dissolved into chaos.
Shivam's vision adjusted instantly as his goggles flickered on with a faint hum. The ballroom shifted into eerie shades of green, every detail sharpened in the monochrome glow. He grabbed Bhumika's wrist, drawing her close against him as the surge of bodies crashed in every direction.
"Stay behind me," he said firmly, voice barely audible above the panic.
Bhumika nodded quickly, her eyes wide behind the tinted lenses. She clutched the folds of her gown as if the fabric itself might trip her, her movements careful but steady.
Sumit materialized at Shivam's flank, adjusting his own goggles, while Suchitra swept to the other side, her eyes already scanning the crowd. "Two exits clogged already," Suchitra reported, her voice even despite the screaming around them. "Bodyguards locking them down. They're trying to herd people."
"Not for long," Sumit muttered, slipping a compact baton into his palm. He tilted his head toward a trio of guards pushing through the crowd. "They'll make us."
Shivam's hand rose. "No noise. Drop them clean."
They moved like water through the sea of terrified guests. Sumit stepped ahead, brushing past one guard before slamming the baton into his ribs. The man buckled with a muffled groan, swallowed by the chaos of voices around him. Suchitra swept behind another, a sharp jab to the base of the skull dropping him silently. The third barely registered movement before Shivam's arm hooked around his throat, choking off sound until he sagged unconscious.
In the green haze of night vision, their precision cut through the disorder. Guests scrambled without direction, believing the blackout to be some failure of power or an attack from outside. To them, the guards vanished into the crush of bodies, unnoticed.
Bhumika kept close to Shivam's back, her breath measured but shaky. He felt her fingers tighten against his sleeve when someone shoved past them, the perfume of a panicked woman lingering in the air. He leaned slightly toward her, voice low but steady. "I've got you. Just follow my steps."
Her reply was soft, almost swallowed by the din. "I trust you."
The words landed heavier than she intended, a simple truth pressed through fear. Shivam's jaw tightened, but he said nothing more, just moved faster, guiding her toward the stage.
Ahead, the glow of the shard burned even through the dark, a pulse of alien fire that defied the blackout. Its energy lit the platform in stark relief. And in that light stood Kairav, his composure fractured for the first time, barking orders in sharp bursts. Veeraj was already at his side, motioning frantically for the guards to move the glass container.
"They're taking it," Suchitra hissed.
Shivam's eyes narrowed. "Not tonight."
They pressed forward, weaving through the thinning crowd, every movement calculated. Another guard appeared at the base of the stage, scanning the darkness with a flashlight. Shivam struck before the beam could sweep their way, lathi snapping out in a silent arc that caught the man's wrist. The flashlight clattered away, swallowed by the dark.
Bhumika's hand lingered on his arm, tugging just enough to pull his attention. "Don't leave me behind," she whispered, the plea quiet but raw.
He turned his head slightly, enough for her to see the edge of his smile under the glow of the goggles. "I won't. But there's a moment coming when I'll need you to trust me more than ever."
She blinked, confused, but before she could press him, Sumit stepped up beside them. "Stage is clearing. If we move now, we can cut them off."
Shivam exhaled slowly. His decision was already made. "Sumit, Suchitra keep her with you. Don't let her out of your sight."
Bhumika stiffened, eyes searching his. "No. Not without you."
He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, grounding her with the calm steadiness she had come to rely on. "I'll be fine. This isn't where my story ends." His voice dipped softer. "But I need you safe. Promise me you'll stay with them."
Her lips parted, ready to protest, but she caught the unwavering certainty in his gaze. She swallowed hard and gave the smallest nod.
Sumit grinned faintly, trying to cut the tension. "We'll babysit. Go get your shard."
Suchitra added, tone sharp and grounded, "Don't die showing off."
Shivam smirked just enough to answer them, then turned back toward the stage. His body loosened, his tux jacket unbuttoned with a flick of his fingers, the knot of his tie tugged free. He rolled his shoulders once, eyes locking onto Kairav and Veeraj as they began to slip behind the curtain with their prize.
The noise of the gala faded for him, reduced to a dull roar. All he heard now was the thrum of his own blood and the shard's glow calling him forward.
He stepped up onto the stage. The chase had begun. The instant Shivam stepped onto the stage, Kairav and Veeraj pulled back behind the curtain, dragging the glowing shard in its case with them. Shivam surged forward, his footsteps swallowed by the dark, the chaos of the gala left behind. The backstage corridors were narrower, lined with velvet drapes and stacked crates, perfect for disappearing. And disappear he did.
The guards hustled their employer through the passage, nerves high. One whispered into his mic about the blackout; another muttered about getting to the secure garage. Kairav cut them all off with a hiss. "No firearms. Not here. Not in front of half the capital's press corps. Handle him quietly. Kill him if you have to, but no bullets. Do you understand?"
They nodded, tightening their grips on batons and expandable rods. Behind them, Veeraj glanced back, his jaw clenched. He didn't need to speak; his eyes carried the weight of recognition. He knew Shivam would come.
The guards quickened their pace, glancing over their shoulders. One swore under his breath. "Where the hell did, he go?"
They rounded a corner only for Shivam to drop down from the overhead rigging, landing with the force of a predator. His tux jacket flared, his tie loose, his eyes hard. The lathi in his hands swept in a clean arc, smashing across the first guard's shoulder with a crack. The man crumpled before he could scream.
The second lunged, baton raised. Shivam twisted, catching the strike with his forearm and locking the man's wrist. A sharp twist, a pull, and the baton clattered free. In the same motion he drove his knee into the man's gut and spun, the stolen weapon whipping across the side of his head. The guard dropped, out cold.
"Fall back!" one of them shouted.
But Shivam was already moving, his body flowing like water through their line. He slid past a wild swing, slammed the butt of his lathi into a man's knee, folding him. Another came in fast, swinging low. Shivam vaulted the strike, landed behind him, and locked an arm around his neck. The man thrashed, but Shivam wrenched the baton from his grip and cracked it against the back of his skull. Silence.
The last two tried rushing him together, hoping to pin him. Shivam adjusted his tie with one hand as if mocking them, then surged forward with surgical precision. The first strike snapped the joint of one man's elbow, forcing his weapon down. The second was a blur of blows to the ribs and chin, sending both men sprawling on the carpeted floor. None dead just broken, disarmed, and unconscious.
The corridor was littered with bodies, groaning softly, the glow of the shard retreating farther ahead. Shivam rolled his shoulders, exhaling once. His tux hung loose, tie draped around his neck like a fighter's sash. His eyes burned forward.
Ahead, Veeraj stopped walking. He handed the shard's case to another guard, shoving him toward Kairav. "Get him out," he barked. His gaze never left the shadow advancing toward him.
Kairav frowned, adjusting his cufflinks with forced calm. "Don't waste time. Hold him here. I won't have my night ruined by one 22-year-old." He swept away down the corridor, the shard glowing against his side like a trophy.
That left Veeraj.
The corridor between them narrowed into silence, broken only by the muffled chaos of the gala echoing through the walls. Shivam stepped over a fallen baton, twirling it once before letting it drop. He wanted no distractions.
Veeraj cracked his knuckles, rolling his neck, his presence radiating the same coiled violence Shivam remembered. Their last clash had left bruises, scars, and unfinished business.
Shivam's chest rose and fell steadily. He loosened his tie the rest of the way, letting it dangle free. "It's just you now."
Veeraj smirked faintly. "You're too late. Kairav will walk out with what he wants."
"Not if I put you down first."
Neither raised their voice. They didn't need to. The air itself thickened with the promise of violence.
For a moment, the world seemed to contract to the narrow hall between them. Shivam adjusted his stance, weight balanced, his body ready. Veeraj lowered into his own guard, broad shoulders flexing, eyes locked onto his rival's.
Then, without another word, they charged. The collision was inevitable.