Spoiler & Disclaimer :
This novel contains rawurbanthemes, strong language, and uncensoredIndianstreetslang. It portrays the darkunderbelly of society with grittyrealism. All characters, events, and events are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This story is meant for matureaudiences only. Reader discretion is advised.
Nawaz sat on the bed of the cheap hotel room in Mangaluru, shirt soaked in sweat, eyes hollow.
Nathan walked in silently and handed him a small burner laptop — wiped clean, no trackers, nothing.
"Time to open it," he said, voice low.
Nawaz didn't reply. He plugged in the USBFaheem gave him.
A single folder blinked on the screen.
"MAQBOOL_FINAL."
He froze.
His father's name.
He clicked it open.
Videos. Audio logs. PDFs. Photos. Shit so sensitive it looked like it could burn through the screen.
There was one video labeled "FINAL_CONFESSION" — Nawaz double-clicked it.
The grainy footage opened. His father's face appeared — gaunt, tired, but defiant. Eyes bloodshot, lips cracked.
"Agar tum yeh dekh rahe ho, toh ya toh main gaya hoon... ya chup ho gaya hoon," he began.
(If you're watching this, then either I'm gone… or I've been silenced.)
Nawaz's heart stopped.
"Mere paas saboot hai — MLARavindraBhandari aur uske logon ke khilaaf. Arms deals, narco routes through Karwar coast, aur CRPF ke kuch log bhi shamil hain. Maine sab record kiya hai."
(I have proof — against MLARavindraBhandari and his men. Arms deals, narco routes through Karwar coast, even some CRPF officers are involved. I recorded everything.)
"Faheem mera sabse purana dost hai. Us pe bharosa hai. Agar yeh USB usne diya hai, toh tum tak sab sach pohoch gaya." (Faheem is my oldest friend. I trust him. If he gave you this USB, then the truth has reached you.)
Nawaz leaned forward, fists clenched, breathing shallow.
"Mujhe pata hai mujhe maarne aayenge. Lekin tu mera beta hai. Tujhme mera khoon hai. Aur yeh khoon chup nahi baithta."
(I know they'll come to kill me. But you're my son. You have my blood. And this blood doesn't stay silent.)
The screen froze. Static.
Then black.
Nawaz sat in silence.
Then he f*cking snapped.
He slammed the laptop shut, stood up, kicked the chair so hard it splintered.
"BEHENCHODDDDD!!!" he roared.
Balraj barged in, gun raised.
"Kya hua?"
(What happened?)
Nawaz's voice cracked — part rage, part pain. "Usne sab record kiya tha... sab. Saale system ke kutto ne use hi kaat diya." (He recorded everything... everything. Those system's dogs killed him.)
Nathan stepped forward. "Now you know. This wasn't random. You were being watched since you were 10, Nawaz."
Nawaz turned slowly. "Tu kyun help kar raha hai mujhe? Bata na, kya karza hai mujhpe?" (Why are you helping me? Tell me, what debt do you owe me?)
Nathan didn't blink.
"I was 12 when your father saved my mother. She was caught in the middle of one of those arms raids. He smuggled us out, gave her cash, even helped us change names. I owed him… but I couldn't pay him back."
He took a deep breath.
"But now? I'm paying it to you."
Faheem, sitting in the corner silently, added, "Tera baap akela nahi lad raha tha. Hum the uske saath. Par hum sab toot gaye. Tu last hope hai, Nawaz."
(Your father wasn't fighting alone. We were with him. But we all broke. You're the lasthope, Nawaz.)
Balraj tilted his head.
"Ek baat bolu? Agar tu itna Indian connection rakhta hai... toh angrezi mein kyun bolta hai?"
(Can I ask something? If you're so connected to all this Indian shit… why do you speak in English?)
Nathan smirked, slightly embarrassed. "Main Indian nahi hoon. Mauritius ka hoon. Vaha se yahan aaye the. Mera Hindi utna strong nahi hai, but I'm learning."
(I'm not Indian. I'm from Mauritius. We came here. My Hindi isn't that strong, but I'm learning.)
Balraj blinked.
"Acha… fir toh tu Angrez nahi, samundarpaar ka bhai nikla."
(Oh… so you're not a Brit, just a brother from acrossthesea.)
Nathan nodded. Nawaz just stared at the USB.
Threechoices buzzed in his head like flies:
1. Go full gangster — burn it all down, bullet for bullet.
2. Sabotage them silently — destroy them from the shadows.
3. Or... walkaway. But could he live with that?
He looked out the window at the night swallowing the city.
"Mere baap ka khoon mujhse jawaab maang raha hai."
(My father's blood is asking for answers.)
"Main jawaab dunga. Goli se. Ya gaali se. Lekin dunga zaroor."
(I will give an answer. With a bullet. Or with a curse. But I will answer.)