Ashiana: The King' s Flame

ch 1

The Malhotra base was alive with tension. A vast underground chamber beneath their Mumbai skyscraper mahogany table, world maps glowing on screens, the scent of cigar smoke heavy in the air.

At the head sat Aarav, calm and unreadable.

To his right, Kabir leaned back in his chair, flipping a knife casually between his fingers, impatience in his every move.

On Aarav's left, Raghav scanned data on a sleek tablet, numbers and names flashing across the screen.

Aditya stood behind them, arms folded, eyes scanning the rival mafias gathered in the chamber.

A dozen mafia bosses from different parts of the world sat nervously, their voices low. Everyone knew one thing: if you walked into a Malhotra meeting, you walked out either as an ally... or not at all.

Aarav finally set down his glass of whiskey, the sound echoing through the room. His deep voice carried across the chamber:

"Tonight, we decide the future of the underworld. Speak carefully. Because every word you say... will cost you something."

The air was thick with tension. Cigarette smoke curled upward. Nobody dared speak until Aarav's deep, calm voice broke the silence.

"Gentlemen," he said, tapping his ring against his glass once. Clink. The sound echoed like a gunshot. "This isn't just a meeting. This is judgment. From tonight onward, the Malhotra name will decide who rises... and who is erased."

A murmur spread across the room, some mafias shifting uneasily. Kabir smirked at their discomfort, leaning forward, his voice sharper:

"Enough whispers. If you have something to say, say it to our faces. Or I'll cut your tongue out myself."

The mafias stiffened. One man finally stood—an Italian boss named Ricci, his pride outweighing his fear. His suit was fine, his hair slicked back, but his voice carried anger.

"You think you can rule us all, Malhotra? We bow to no man not even you."

The chamber froze. Raghav looked up from his tablet, his voice quiet, almost mocking:

"Interesting. According to my records, Ricci... your ports in Naples are already under attack. Your accounts? Frozen. Your allies? Dead or vanished. You may not bow... but you're already broken."

Ricci's face darkened. He slammed his palm on the table, but before he could speak again, Aditya stepped forward, his shadow falling over the man like a storm.

"You just signed your death warrant, Ricci."

Aarav finally raised his hand, silencing them all. His eyes locked on Ricci, cold and merciless.

"You had the chance to speak wisely. You chose death instead."

The room went still. Everyone knew what that meant.

The chamber grew colder, the silence sharp enough to cut. Every mafia boss present leaned back in their chairs, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Aarav Malhotra's storm-grey eyes never left Ricci. Calm. Patient. Deadly.

Kabir's lips curled into a savage grin. He rose slowly, knife still twirling in his hand. His 6'2" frame loomed over Ricci, his presence suffocating.

"Boss," Kabir said, glancing at Aarav for the briefest second, "shall I silence this dog?"

Aarav simply nodded once.

That was all Kabir needed.

In one swift move, Kabir slammed Ricci's head against the table, the sharp blade pressing against his throat. Ricci struggled, his voice cracking:

"W-wait! You can't—"

The blade cut through his words. Quick, clean, merciless. Blood spilled across the polished mahogany. The sound of his last gasp echoed through the chamber before silence returned, heavier than before.

Aditya stepped forward, calm and precise, pulling Ricci's lifeless body away from the table. His military efficiency made the act seem routine like disposing of trash.

Meanwhile, Raghav didn't even look up from his tablet. Instead, his voice came out cold:

"Erase him. His money, his men, his name. By tomorrow, Ricci never existed."

Aarav leaned back in his chair, his glass of whiskey in hand, gaze sweeping across the pale faces of the remaining bosses. His tone was calm, but his words cut like a blade:

"This is not cruelty. This is order. Remember—betrayal doesn't just cost your life. It costs your legacy."

The mafias nodded quickly, terror in their eyes. Nobody dared to challenge again.

The Malhotra empire had made its message clear: defiance meant death.