3
ACHYUT
Dipping a fresh cotton ball into the antiseptic, I press it on my knuckles, feeling the sharp burn spread on my skin like another layer of my body. I don’t flinch; I just watch the white cotton turn a messy shade of red before tossing it into the bin.
The door clicks open. I don’t have to look up to know it is him. His footsteps approach me, heavy and echoing in the room. Vidyut doesn’t speak a word; he just stands at a distance.
“You’re late,” I say. I let the silence hang for a few more seconds before finally shifting my gaze to him.
He looks like he is ready to snap someone’s neck with his bare hands, and he is probably mentally picking out which of my security team to start with.
He is the “stable” brother, the businessman, but the look in his eyes right now is anything but corporate. “Two minutes late,” I add, a small, tired smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “That’s a new record for you, Bhai.”
“Your hand is bruised; I assume you are the one responsible for Rahul’s broken nose and ribs?” Vidyut speaks. His jaw tightens, a vein pulsing at his temple. He looks like he wants to lecture me, to scream at me for being reckless, but instead, he takes a step forward and pulls me into a hard, brief hug.
A heavy sigh slips from his chest, and he pats my back like he did when I was sixteen. “I knew you’d survive, but that doesn’t mean…” the words catch in his throat for a split second, as if he is worried about letting those words reach my ears. “I wasn’t worried.” He breaks the hug, walking to the couch and pretending as if the hug didn’t happen.
I follow him, ignoring my phone as it vibrates again on the table. It is a video call from Vihaan. That man is a pain in the ass; no matter how hard I push him away, he sticks to me. “Even though it was an attack and not some freak accident, I’m telling you to be cautious, Achyut. This wasn’t just a warning. They meant to finish it.” Vidyut says, his eyes locking onto mine with total seriousness.
I lean back in my chair as I listen to my brother. “You think a useless nobody like him actually planned this?” I spit the words out, the bitterness of the lost race tasting like ash in my mouth from the accident. “I’m going to make that asshole suffer just for ruining my lap times. He didn’t just try to kill me; he killed the record.”
Everyone in my circle knows what today was supposed to be—for me. It wasn’t just a win; it was supposed to be the fastest finish in the history of the Barrel Circuit. And now? Now it is just a pile of scrap metal and a red flag.
Vidyut leans in, his fingers intertwined, the lines on his forehead deepening into a map of concern. “If it wasn’t him… then who? You’re saying someone else is pulling the strings?” Shaurya.
I open my mouth to answer to tell him about the vibe in the paddock or the way the steering felt, but the words are cut off.
The door flies open, the handle slamming against the wall with a violent crack. I shut my eyes for a second, a curse hissed under my breath.
My peace and quiet has a very short shelf life, and now with the arrival of this man—peace won’t be seen anywhere close to me.
”Bhai? What the hell? I was so worried; even Yuvaan was losing his mind!” Vihaan doesn’t just enter; he explodes into the room.
He kicks the door shut behind him and rushes forward before I can even get a word out. I should have known. The second the footage of the accident hit the internet, the news spread like fire. I should’ve known that if I didn’t answer Vihaan’s calls within sixty seconds, he was always going to drive like a maniac to find me.
He holds his phone up like a weapon, the screen glowing. “See? He’s alive,” Vihaan snaps into the speaker to our youngest brother. I can hear Yuvaan on the other end, his voice a blur of curses and adrenaline, but the second Vihaan flips the camera to point it directly at my face, the phone goes dead silent.
On the screen, Yuvaan’s face goes pale, words dying in his mouth as he stares at me.
I see myself in the reflection of the screen—bloodied and looking entirely too calm for a man who had been airborne in a fireball thirty or forty minutes ago. “Get the camera out of my face, Vihaan,” I say. I don’t raise my voice, but the irritation in my tone isn’t something I try to hide.
Vihaan lowers the phone instantly, taking a place beside me. I look at Vidyut, ignoring the two younger ones. My brothers live for the family name, for the empire, for the “Suryawanshi” pride, but for me, it never mattered.
“I’m thinking about requesting an investigation,” Vihaan speaks up, his voice shifting into his ‘Team Owner’ persona. He is already pacing. “I’ll call the board. I’ll hire a private firm. We can have the whole circuit locked down by morning.”
On the phone screen, Yuvaan finally finds his voice, his eyes dark with a tech-genius’s brand of malice. “I’ve already started bypassing protocols for the paddock’s internal servers. If someone touches the telemetry, I’ll find their digital footprint before they even leave the city.” I watch them. They are efficient. They are powerful.
“Are you both done?” I ask.
The room goes quiet. Vihaan stops mid-stride. Yuvaan’s face on the screen freezes. “You want to file reports and hack cameras,” I say, my voice dropping. “That kind of win doesn’t interest me.”
Vihaan’s jaw tightens. He isn’t used to being dismissed, especially not when he is trying to save his family’s life. “It’s called strategy, Bhai. It’s how we win without getting our hands dirty.”
“Then keep your hands clean,” I snap, leaning forward. The movement pulls at my bruised ribs, a sharp reminder of the fireball, but I don’t let it show. “But stay out of my way. If you call the board, you’re telling the world I’m a victim who needs protection. I don’t need a lawyer, and I definitely don’t need a—”
“Enough.” Vidyut’s voice cuts in, bringing a silence to the room. “Instead of finding a solution, you all are… God.” He sighs, tossing his jacket aside. Bhai turns to me, pointing a finger at me as he asks, “What is your plan?”
“I want whoever did this to feel like they won,” I say, looking back at Vidyut. “I want them to pop the champagne tonight. Because the higher they climb, the more bones they’ll break when I finally pull the ladder out from under them.”
I stand up, the room spinning for a fraction of a second before I force it to steady. It is an effect—the aftermath of the accident. “I’m going to get cleaned up,” I say, heading for the door. “Vihaan, knock next time. Or don’t be surprised when I react like the person on the other side is the one who cut my brake lines.”
I don’t wait for an answer as I walk out of the room. Ten minutes later, my driver brings the car. Pulling out my phone, I check for a message but find none. Weren’t they supposed to update by now? A notification pops up—a message from Arya.
Arya Suryawanshi: Bhai? I hope you are okay.
I blink, taking a few seconds to think of a reply suitable for her.
Me: I am fine. Take care of yourself.
The car comes to a smooth halt. I slide my phone into my pocket, the screen going dark, and turn my gaze toward the window. My eyes catch a familiar figure.
Kanika Bansal. She isn’t just a woman. She is the fiancée of my biggest rival—Shaurya, the woman tied to the man who just tried to turn me into charcoal remains on the asphalt.
If I forget that asshole for a while and talk about his beautiful fiancée, I can say she deserves better than a loser who is sleeping with another woman behind her back.
I lean my head back, my index finger rhythmically tapping against my thigh as I watch her, remembering the scene from the evening. The way her eyes didn’t blink, her lips parted.
It is interesting. “Drive,” I command quietly to the driver, my eyes never leaving her. My phone vibrates, and I pull it out, reading the message I was waiting for.
Unknown Number: Window is open. Kanika Bansal.
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