The flashlight beam locked onto him a thin, harsh cone cutting through the trees, landing square on his chest.

  Shivam froze. The night air was still, but the sound of generators and distant machinery hummed from the clearing ahead.

  Bootsteps crunched over gravel and leaves. A tall man emerged from the edge of the floodlit zone, his silhouette sharpening with every step. Broad shoulders, black tactical jacket, a stance that screamed confidence.

  “Shivam,” the man said, like he was confirming a file note. His voice was smooth but with an edge that scraped the nerves. “Poking your head where it doesn’t belong. Again.”

  Shivam narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?”

  “You don’, but soon you will” the man replied, stopping a few paces away. The flashlight beam dipped just enough to reveal his face, sharp jaw, neatly trimmed beard, and a pair of dark, unblinking eyes. “But I know you. Very well.”

  Something in his tone wasn’t just threatening, it was certain. Like he’d been briefed on Shivam for months.

  “I was just leaving,” Shivam said evenly, taking a small step sideways, aiming to slip around him.

  Veeraj moved to block him. The step was quick, fluid, not the lumbering shift of a rent-a-guard. “No, you weren’t.”

  Shivam’s pulse quickened, but he kept his voice steady. “If you’re SynerTech security, shouldn’t you be guarding your trucks instead of harassing random hikers?”

  Veeraj’s mouth ticked upward, not a smile, more like a predator’s patience fraying. “You’re not random. And this isn’t harassment.”

  His right hand twitched. Shivam caught the movement, just enough warning before the punch came.

  He ducked left. The fist sliced through empty air, and Shivam countered with a quick palm strike to Veeraj’s forearm, using the momentum to push away.

  Veeraj didn’t pause. He followed with a sharp elbow, aiming for Shivam’s jaw. Shivam leaned back, felt the air graze his chin, then stepped in with a short, snapping kick toward the ribs.

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  The impact was solid, but Veeraj barely flinched. He surged forward, one hand grabbing Shivam’s jacket and yanking him off balance. Shivam twisted, breaking the grip, and shoved him away.

  No wasted breaths. No taunts now.

  Veeraj came in with a rapid sequence, left hook, right cross, low knee. Shivam blocked high, parried low, but the force still rocked him. The man fought like someone who’d drilled these moves a thousand times, each strike precise and meant to break something.

  Shivam ducked under a wild arm, hooked his foot behind Veeraj’s ankle, and shoved. Veeraj stumbled back a step, boots scraping dirt, but he recovered instantly, driving forward with a shoulder slam that sent Shivam staggering into a stack of crates. The wood groaned under the impact.

  Pain shot through his back, but Shivam rolled along the edge, forcing himself upright before Veeraj could close the gap.

  From the clearing, distant voices shouted:

  “Watch that crate!”

  “Keep it moving, Kairav’s on his way!”

  Shivam risked a glance. Workers in grey coveralls were loading heavy, sealed containers into vans. Every movement was fast, purposeful. This wasn’t cleanup, it was evacuation.

  Veeraj caught him looking. “Eyes here, Shivam.”

  He swung again, this time Shivam caught the wrist, yanked it down, and drove his elbow into Veeraj’s sternum. The man grunted, but instead of retreating, he stepped in closer, using the contact to twist Shivam’s arm up behind his back.

  White-hot pain flared in his shoulder. Shivam gritted his teeth, stamped backward with his heel, catching Veeraj’s shin. The grip loosened just enough for Shivam to spin out and shove him away.

  They circled each other now, breath harsh in the still night. The hum of the generators and the low rumble of idling engines filled the silence between them.

  “You’re faster than your file says,” Veeraj said, flexing his wrist. “Good. Would’ve been boring otherwise.”

  Shivam’s brow furrowed. “My file?”

  Veeraj didn’t answer. Instead, he launched forward again, a blur of black and motion. Shivam sidestepped, clipped him in the ribs, but Veeraj grabbed his arm mid-strike and spun, tossing Shivam hard to the ground.

  The dirt knocked the breath from his lungs. He rolled just as a boot slammed down where his ribs had been. Shivam swept his leg out, catching Veeraj’s ankle and sending him sprawling.

  Both men scrambled to their feet. Veeraj’s grin this time was sharp and feral. “Not bad.”

  Neither of them stopped moving.

  The air between them was thick with adrenaline. Veeraj shifted his weight forward, boots crunching over the dirt, his posture screaming intent. Shivam knew that look, the fight wasn’t winding down; it was about to get uglier.

  Veeraj lunged. Shivam pivoted sideways, redirecting the attack, and drove his forearm into the side of Veeraj’s neck. It landed, but Veeraj absorbed it, answering with a brutal shove that sent Shivam stumbling backward into the shadows of the clearing.

  They hit the edge of the operation.

  A SynerTech worker, mid-lift with a crate, yelped as the two of them crashed past. The crate tipped, a metallic clang echoed as it hit the dirt, the lid sliding open just enough for Shivam to glimpse a glint of metal and glass inside. Instruments, neatly packed in foam cutouts. Tubes, scanner lenses, a small cylinder glowing faint orange under the floodlights.