"How about you face me now?" Amir taunted. "I'm not some amateur you've been dealing with."
Rohit narrowed his eyes, his body tensed. The way Amir held the blade, the way his weight shifted—it told him everything. This man was on a completely different level from the guards he had just cut through. He was tall, heavy and fresh.
Suddenly, Rohit's phone rang.
Amir cracked his neck with a loud pop. "Go on. I don't have all night. Pick it up."
Rohit glanced at the screen. It was Raju. He answered.
A frantic voice came through. "Where the hell are you? Fuckers got assault rifles..damnit. We need to regroup.."
"I killed sixteen of them alone," Rohit said coldly. "Now I'm facing Amir. Will call you later when I'm done."
He hung up without waiting for a reply.
Amir scoffed. "Getting cocky, aren't you? You coming, or should I?"
Rohit didn't respond. He slid the phone back into his pocket, tightened his grip on the machete, and moved.
