The docks smell like salt, diesel, and lies.
Eleanor walks beside Ravi without touching him. Close enough to feel his body heat. Far enough to deny it.
His men trail at a distance. Not because he fears ambush.
Because he doesn't want witnesses.
Cargo containers tower like metal tombs around them. Floodlights cast sharp shadows. The sea crashes against concrete barriers in steady rhythm.
"You think Arjun called by impulse?" she asks.
"No."
"You tracked the call."
"Yes."
"And?"
"He wanted you to hear him. That was the point."
She stops walking.
Ravi takes one more step before noticing.
"You're calm," she says. "Too calm."
He studies the rows of containers. "Your brother doesn't move without strategy. Neither do I."
"You're not answering me."
His gaze slides to hers. "I knew he would make contact once you aligned with me."
"Aligned?" Her voice cuts.
"You're here."
She hates that he's right.
A forklift engine roars somewhere behind stacked containers.
Ravi lifts a hand subtly.
His men freeze.
"Three o'clock," he murmurs.
She hears it now. Shoes on gravel.
Not dock workers.
Weapons click.
Gunfire erupts.
Ravi moves fast — faster than she expects. He grabs her wrist and pulls her behind a steel container just as bullets tear through metal.
She fires back without hesitation. Two shots. Two men down.
More footsteps.
"Left side," she warns.
He doesn't look. He trusts her.
He steps out and fires clean, controlled shots. No wasted bullets.
A body drops.
Silence returns in fragments.
Eleanor's breathing is steady. Ravi's is almost untouched.
"You set this up," she says.
"No."
"You expected it."
"Yes."
Footsteps crunch behind them.
They spin.
A man lies bleeding but alive. One of the attackers.
Ravi kneels beside him.
"Who sent you?" he asks calmly.
The man laughs weakly. "The revolution."
Ravi presses his thumb into the man's wound.
The laugh turns into a scream.
"Names."
The man spits blood. "Arjun."
Eleanor freezes.
Ravi doesn't look at her.
"Who is funding him?"
The man's eyes flick between them.
"You're already losing," he whispers.
Ravi shoots him in the head.
Clean. Immediate.
No hesitation.
Eleanor flinches—not from the violence.
From how easy it was.
"You didn't need to kill him," she says quietly.
"Yes," Ravi replies. "I did."
She studies him in the harsh white dock light.
There's no rage in him.
No thrill.
Just necessity.
"You're afraid," she realizes.
His jaw tightens slightly.
"Of losing control."
"I never lose control."
Another lie.
Before she can press further, her phone vibrates.
A photo.
Sent from a blocked number.
It's her.
Earlier tonight.
Walking into Ravi's territory.
Shot from above.
She slowly turns her head toward the rooftops lining the dock perimeter.
Someone is still watching.
And this time—
It isn't Ravi.