Chapter 24
‘We’ve only got, what, a minute?’ Dhruv muttered urgently.
‘Less. He said they sometimes change it early,’ Vihaan replied, focused on the keypad as he typed the staff entry code Prateek had texted them.
Though the grey basement corridor of Obsidian Plaza lay in darkness, the ceiling hummed with music and laughter drifting down from the floor above.
A soft chime rang out and the keypad blinked green as the system accepted the code. The service elevator whirred to life and Vihaan exhaled in relief.
‘Finally.’
He slid his phone back into his pocket and glanced over his shoulder at Dhruv. Noticing how he kept fidgeting in place, Vihaan said, ‘You’re going to need to keep it together when we get up there.’
Dhruv kept his gaze fixed on the elevator doors, willing them to open faster. ‘I plan to only talk.’
The doors slid open, revealing the wide interior, and Vihaan pressed the button for the eighth floor. He tugged his hood up and tossed a bundle at Dhruv. ‘Cap,’ he reminded him.
Dhruv ran a hand through his hair, shoving it beneath the cap as he pulled the brim low over his eyes. ‘Yeah, because this is not suspicious at all.’
‘We’ll be in and out quickly, and hopefully the corridors will stay empty.’
‘When has the universe ever been on our side?’
Vihaan watched the floors rise on the panel. ‘If something goes wrong, you leave right away. Got it?’
‘What?’ Dhruv turned to him sharply.
‘You heard me. I’ll deal with whatever happens later.’
‘You really think I’m going to let you do that alone?’
Vihaan shook his head. ‘Think about it. You’re a Kashyap, and if you get caught in a mess like this, it gets traced back to Siya and Kashvi.’
His words sank in, cutting through the impulsive edge of anger driving Dhruv forward. He didn’t want to drag them into this.
As though Vihaan had heard his thoughts, he said, ‘We can handle this quietly, unless you do something stupid. So, for once, I’m asking you to think, not just react.’
There was no accusation or judgement in his tone, just the blunt honesty Dhruv had come to expect from him over the decades.
‘You can’t expect me to leave you behind like that. I don’t want you taking the fall for something I started,’ he said, trying to reason with him.
‘You’d do the same, so don’t get sentimental on me now,’ Vihaan said without hesitation. He gave a half smile. ‘Besides, if I’m caught, it won’t lead to a public scandal. I’m a little-known painter, but outside of that, I’m still a nobody.’
‘Not to me, brother,’ Dhruv said as they stepped onto the carpeted corridor and quickly moved towards the staircase leading to the floor above. ‘Thanks for doing this.’
Vihaan gave his back a firm pat. ‘You think I’d let you do something this stupid alone? Whether hell or heaven, I’d be there making your life worse.’
‘There’s a good chance this blows up in our faces. If Swayam sees us, or worse, if he’s in the room with him...’
‘Then we improvise. Might get messy, but we’ve handled worse.’ Vihaan let out a slow breath as they climbed the stairs. ‘And we didn’t suffer through those Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu sessions for nothing.’
‘Yeah, it’d be a shame to waste all that effort.’
Dhruv pushed open the corridor door as they reached the ninth floor. The polished marble reflected the muted gold carvings along the ceiling. Paintings lined the walls, and the air carried a faint fragrance of curated luxury.
‘Remember his phone. That’s the priority. Kashvi said everything’s in there.’
Vihaan nodded. ‘Got it. And try not to kill him.’
Dhruv didn’t answer. The image of his sister’s fear-stricken face kept a leash on his tongue. They quickly moved through the rows of rooms towards the private entrance to the presidential suites.
Vihaan’s phone rang and he answered it immediately. Dhruv could hear the faint murmur on the other end of the call.
‘Yeah? Great. Okay... got it. Thanks, man,’ Vihaan said before disconnecting and slipping the phone back into his pocket. ‘Prateek did a great job. One of the waiters just dropped off a dry-cleaned sherwani to 907. Only one guy is inside.’
‘You’re sure it wasn’t for someone else?’
A flicker of disgust crossed Vihaan’s face. ‘The man signed the bill as Viraj Sharma. And guess what? He charged it to the bride’s room.’
‘Unbelievable,’ Dhruv muttered contemptuously. ‘What kind of man gets married if he can’t even pay for himself?’
‘The kind that thinks he can get away with anything. Not anymore.’
Within a few steps, they stood in front of room 907.
‘You ready?’ Vihaan asked quietly, bouncing the small torch in his hand.
Dhruv slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingers closing around the cold metal of the cycle chain. He pulled it out and wrapped it around his injured hand, letting the pain anchor him and sharpen the edge of his focus.
They stepped slightly to the side of the door to stay out of sight of the peephole, and Vihaan pressed the bell.
The soft chime echoed faintly from inside before a muffled voice called out, ‘Who is it?’
Vihaan rang the bell repeatedly as he said, ‘Hotel staff. Sir, there’s a fire emergency. You need to step out immediately.’
A faint rustle came from inside, followed by hurried footsteps moving towards them. Dhruv gripped the chain tighter, the serrated edges digging into his palm.
Then the door swung open.
Viraj stepped into view, confusion etched across his face, and Vihaan flashed the torch directly into his eyes. Viraj flinched, jerking away as he raised a hand to shield them.
‘What the...’ he began, exposing the back of his neck in the process.
That single opening was all Dhruv needed.
He moved in one fluid motion, forcing a cloth over Viraj’s face. His other arm locked around Viraj’s neck as he wedged his forearm beneath his jawline, trapping him in a chokehold.
Viraj’s shout was muffled, panic spilling uselessly against the cloth.
‘Move,’ Dhruv said sharply into his ear as he forced him farther into the room.
Vihaan slipped in behind them, snapping gloves onto his hands before quietly shutting the door.
Viraj bucked violently, his body slamming back into Dhruv’s chest hard enough to send a jarring impact through him. ‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘Shut up!’ Dhruv’s injured hand protested instantly, but he ignored it. He tightened the pressure on Viraj’s neck, trying to restrain him without pushing too far.
Viraj thrashed in fury, clawing at the cloth over his face and at Dhruv’s arm around his throat, desperate to break free. Though the fabric muffled his voice, jagged threats still broke through.
Dhruv gritted his teeth as he watched Vihaan move through the massive living room, yanking open drawers and cabinets. He could feel Vihaan’s impatience too. They had only a few minutes at best, and Viraj’s phone was nowhere in sight.
Viraj suddenly lashed a leg backwards, catching Dhruv just above the kneecap. Pain shot up his leg in a hot, blinding wave, and his balance faltered for a split second.
Guided by muscle memory drilled into him years ago, Dhruv twisted Viraj in a sharp, controlled arc and slammed his chest against the wall. The impact echoed through the room and a choked cry tore out of Viraj.
Dhruv pressed his forearm harder against the back of his neck, pinning him in place as he kicked out his own leg to dull the throbbing pain. When he glanced back, the room was already in disarray.
Vihaan flung open the wardrobe, sending hangers clattering onto the floor before emptying the suitcases lined up inside. ‘Not here,’ he muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice.
‘Check the bathroom.’
‘I did. There’s nothing there. He’s not stupid enough to leave it out,’ Vihaan shot back.
They were almost out of time.
Dhruv grabbed a fistful of Viraj’s hair and yanked his head back at a painful angle. ‘Where is your phone?’
Viraj answered with a muffled curse, his body going rigid. ‘Why... why do you want my phone?’
Dhruv scoffed, pulling Viraj’s hair harder. ‘What is this, a marriage interview? I’ll ask you one last time. Where is it?’
Viraj clawed weakly at his arm as he gasped, ‘Listen, listen, what do you want? Is it money? I can give you that.’
‘Looks like we found ourselves a rich little boy,’ Dhruv mocked.
‘Yes! I can give you money. There’s gold in the bottom drawer in the walk-in closet, and cash in the drawer above it. Take it all,’ Viraj said, panic thick in his voice.
‘Maybe we should kidnap him instead. He sounds valuable. Might fetch us more than whatever’s lying around here,’ Vihaan said, slipping easily into the role of a menacing thief.
Viraj protested frantically. ‘No, no, listen. My father-in-law promised me fifty lakhs but only gave forty. He must have more in his room. It’s a floor below, room 608. Kidnap him, kill him, I don’t care. Just let me go.’
Disgust burned hot in Dhruv’s chest.
Just when you think a man cannot sink any lower.
Dhruv’s muscles burned as rage clawed its way up from somewhere deep and relentless.
He absorbed the unforgiving bite of the cycle chain wrapped around his knuckles and drove his fist into the centre of Viraj’s upper back. The force travelled up his own arm like a shockwave.
Viraj coughed violently, choking for air. Dhruv grabbed the collar of his sherwani and shoved him onto the floor, grinding bone and skin against the smooth surface. A muffled scream scraped out of Viraj’s throat.
‘Safe... inside the safe... in there,’ Viraj wheezed, struggling to speak with his cheek flattened painfully against the floor.
Vihaan was already moving towards the walk-in closet at the far end of the suite. He examined the door, then shouted, ‘I need a code.’
That brief distraction cost Dhruv an elbow to the eye as Viraj twisted out of his hold with frantic force. His vision burst white, and he barely heard his own raw growl through the sharp ringing in his skull.
Viraj drove a fist into his gut next, but Dhruv slammed his knee into his abdomen, forcing him back down. Adrenaline surged through his veins like a storm.
‘Code.’
Viraj let out a strained laugh that dissolved into a groan. ‘Fuck you,’ he spat through the cloth.