CHAPTER 144: CHAPTER 144 – THE TRAP AT SOUTH DOCK

The wind coming off the harbor carried the smell of salt, rust, and something faintly metallic, like blood that had dried long ago. South Dock stretched before Raghav—a sprawling skeleton of cranes, warehouses, and cargo containers stacked like giant blocks. The place was never completely quiet; even at this hour, water slapped against the hulls of moored ships, chains clinked against metal, and somewhere in the darkness, a gull cried out before vanishing into the mist.

Raghav’s boots crunched against the damp gravel as he walked. His pace was steady, but his mind was a storm of calculations. The dock was a trap—he knew it, Arjun knew it, Meera knew it. The question was not whether an ambush would happen, but how many layers of it there would be.

He stopped at the shadow of a shipping container, pressing his back against its cold steel surface. His earpiece crackled.

"South gate clear," came Arjun’s voice, low and clipped. "Two trucks parked, no movement yet. Could be a front."

"North side’s quiet," Meera added, her tone sharper. "But I don’t like it. Feels too... empty."

"That’s because they want it to feel that way," Raghav replied. "Stay sharp. We’re not here to fight—yet. We’re here to see who shows up."

A low fog had rolled in, blurring the line between sea and sky. From the corner of his eye, Raghav saw faint headlights cutting through the mist. A black SUV crawled into view, its engine purring like a big cat stalking prey. It came to a stop in front of an old warehouse, and two men in dark jackets stepped out. Their movements were too smooth, too disciplined—professionals, not dockworkers.

Raghav stayed in the shadows, watching.

Then came the second vehicle—a long, unmarked van. It reversed toward the loading dock with deliberate slowness. The rear doors opened, and four more men emerged, each holding compact submachine guns slung under their coats.

"This is it," Arjun whispered in the comms. "They’re setting the board."

Raghav’s jaw tightened. "Wait."

A third car rolled in—sleek, silver, and utterly out of place among the industrial grit. The passenger door opened, and a figure stepped out. Tall. Confident. The kind of posture that didn’t need to shout to demand respect.

Raghav’s pulse slowed. He’d been waiting for this moment.

The figure removed their gloves, scanning the dock like they already owned it. Even from this distance, Raghav could tell—the "ghost" wasn’t some shadowy middleman. They were here in person.

Through the earpiece, Meera’s voice came, sharp with recognition. "That’s not possible. They’re supposed to be—"

"Dead?" Raghav finished for her. "Guess we were wrong."

The ghost moved toward the warehouse doors. The men with guns shifted positions subtly, forming a protective arc. But instead of entering, the ghost stopped in the middle of the dock, turning their head slightly—almost like they could feel Raghav’s gaze from across the mist.

That was when the lights snapped on.

Dozens of floodlights blazed to life, banishing the shadows and blinding the eyes. In that same instant, the silence shattered—shouts, the pounding of boots on metal, the click-clack of weapons being chambered.

"They’re moving!" Arjun’s voice barked in the comms.

Raghav ducked low as bullets sparked off the container beside him. He rolled into the narrow gap between two stacks of cargo and drew his pistol, keeping his breathing steady. The air was thick with the metallic tang of gunpowder already.

"Meera, now!" he shouted.

From somewhere near the north fence, a small explosion ripped through the night—a controlled blast. The shockwave rattled the dock, and within seconds, thick smoke poured over the open ground, swallowing the gunmen’s lines of sight.

"They can’t see," Meera said. "Move!"

Raghav didn’t need telling twice. He broke cover, weaving between containers as muzzle flashes flared in the fog. He was closing the gap between himself and the ghost—not to kill, not yet, but to look them in the eye.

Arjun appeared from the east, moving fast and low. He dropped one guard with a well-placed shot to the knee, then slammed another into the side of a container, knocking him cold.

The ghost didn’t run. They stood still, watching, almost amused, as Raghav closed in.

Finally, Raghav was close enough to see their face clearly under the harsh floodlights—sharp features, dark eyes that revealed nothing, and the faintest curve of a smirk.

"You’re late," the ghost said, voice smooth as silk.

"Didn’t know I had an appointment," Raghav replied, his gun steady but aimed just low enough to show he wasn’t here for a quick trigger pull.

"Oh, you’ve had an appointment with me for years," the ghost said. "You just didn’t know my name."

Raghav’s grip on the pistol tightened. "Then give it to me."

The ghost tilted their head. "Names are currency. You haven’t earned mine yet."

Before Raghav could respond, a burst of gunfire tore through the air from behind. Arjun yelled a warning, and Raghav spun, firing two shots to drop an advancing guard. When he turned back, the ghost was already stepping backward toward the SUV.

"You can try to hunt me," they called out over the chaos. "But remember—this was my trap, and you walked into it willingly."

The SUV’s engine roared to life, and in seconds, it was speeding toward the dock exit.

"Raghav!" Meera’s voice came through. "We have to go, now! Reinforcements are coming in from the east. Too many."

Raghav fired one last shot at the retreating vehicle—not to kill, but to mark the moment. Then he turned and sprinted toward the north fence, where Meera had already cut an escape route.

The three of them regrouped in the shadow of an abandoned crane, lungs burning, clothes damp with sweat and sea spray. The distant wail of approaching sirens grew louder.

Arjun spat on the ground. "We just got played."

Raghav shook his head. "No. We saw the face. We heard the voice. That’s more than anyone else has in years."

Meera’s eyes narrowed. "And now they know we’re coming for them."

Raghav looked out toward the dark water, where the ghost’s SUV had vanished into the night. His voice was low, but certain.

"Good. Let them prepare."

The sirens were almost on top of them now. They moved quickly, melting back into the maze of containers until the dock was just another shadow in the city’s endless night.

But the game had changed again. The ghost wasn’t a rumor anymore. They were flesh, blood, and ambition—and Raghav intended to find out exactly how much of that blood he could spill.