Chapter 139: Partners Until The End
The sun was dipping low as the black BMW crawled at a snail’s pace. It maneuvered through crowded, narrow alleys, inching deeper into the heart of the slums.
Balwindar adjusted the rearview mirror, checking the backseat. Rohit was typically preoccupied to his phone. But it was the newcomer that drew Balwindar’s focus, Robin, who was occupying the window seat, staring out at the passing chaos in deep thought.
He had met him just last day during the rescue of her freind, but seeing him follow Rohit now, and getting involved in matters that shouldn’t concern him, was deeply unsettling.
Did they finally get a lead on Akhil? he wondered. Or is this about what happened to Jyoti?
A odd thought crossed over his mind: Is young master replacing me?
He flashed back to their talk that morning, and his heart sank with the mere plausibility, before he shook it off.
’No, I am a professional, and Young master had promised me quite a fortune for my services as an exclusive guard.’
He sighed quietly. ’But I really don’t get it. Why is the Young Master letting a nobody waste his time when we’re on such a tight schedule?
"Stop here," Rohit said suddenly, patting his shoulder.
As Balwindar reached to unbuckle his seatbelt, Rohit stayed his hand. "Stay here as backup, Balwindar. I’m meeting a regional gang leader; they won’t let us in with heat."
He handed over his own gun as he added. "Come in after thirty minutes. Exactly thirty. Not before that."
Balwindar nodded, his jaw tight.
Rohit turned to the Robin. "Take the bag."
Balwindar’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t expected the stranger to carry the bag of golds. He watched them disappear into the dilapidated three-story building, a heavy weight settling in his chest.
’Hope the Young Master knows what he’s doing’, he prayed silently. ’Waheguru, may protect him.’
***
Rohit and Robin were patted down by a guard before being led up a cramped staircase to an open rooftop.
The sun had vanished, leaving the space illuminated by a single, flickering bulb hanging in the corner.
Beneath it, a group of seven or eight men huddled around a table. Their voices were loud and chaotic chorus of laughter as they played.
Rohit glanced over the edge. From this height, the sprawl of the slums lay exposed like a sea of dim lights stretching into the vast darkness. Each light represented a settlement that were part of the slum.
Artwork.
Interestingly, this three-story building was the only high vantage point in the area, that act as strategic fortress for anyone looking to project power.
Turning back to the rooftop, Rohit’s eyes narrowed.
In the center of the group was a carrom board. The men were shouting and slapping each other’s backs as they took their turns.
For a fleeting second, they looked less like a mafia and more like a group of friends enjoying a respite from the world.
There was no obvious hierarchy, no visible fear, until the guard approached a lean man in his thirties.
The man raised a hand. The laughter died instantly.
The air turned heavy.
Everyone shifted their gaze to Rohit, sizing him up like he is a lone sheep. Some didn’t bother hiding their sneers, but still they all remained seated, waiting for a signal.
Finally, the lean man beckoned him forward.
Rohit stepped into the light, Robin followed behind with nervous steps.
"Raju Plumber?" Rohit asked. "We spoke on the phone."
"So, you’re the one looking to move gold." Raju scratched his chin, his eyes scanning Rohit with blatant skepticism. "I expected a man... Turned out to be a kid." He pointed a chin toward Rohit’s arm, which was strapped in a sling. "What happened there?"
Rohit shrugged. "Bike accident."
"Hmm.. The tone is the same as the one on the phone," Raju noted, nodding slowly. "Fine. I won’t judge you by your age. Show me the goods."
Rohit snapped his fingers. "Three hundred biscuits."
Robin stepped forward and handed the bag to the guard. The guard unzipped it, tilting the contents toward the light. The gold shimmered in reflection.
"Damn," someone muttered. "The kid’s got swag."
A few others snickered, but a sharp look from Raju silenced them.
Raju reached into the bag, pulled out a bar, and bit down on the edge to test the purity. "What’s your name?"
"Rohit Singhania."
Raju raised an eyebrow, leaning back. "Singhania? Sounds familiar."
"Boss," one of his men piped up, "it’s the family that sells salt for ten rupees."
Raju’s expression shifted to a smirk of genuine interest. "Oh? A Singhania. Oye, bring some tea and coffee! We’ve got a big client amongst us."
Rohit remained unfazed, his one arm under his pocket. "Let’s talk exchange rates."
Raju sneered, as he took a shot on carrom. "Aren’t you afraid we’ll just take the bag and toss you off this roof?"
Rohit’s expression didn’t flicker. "I don’t think you’re stupid enough to kill your golden goose."
The rooftop went silent for a heartbeat, then everyone erupted into a loud laugh. The tension breaking died down into a jagged sort of amusement.
"Twenty percent commission," Raju said, while spared Rohit one look before returning for another shot. "And I’ll need two days to pull the cash together."
Rohit didn’t blink. "I’ll give you five percent.. and a recurring partnership for every shipment of gold I bring in."
The rooftop went deathly silent.
The men stopped their games; even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Twenty percent was already a generous street tax for laundering gold. Five percent wasn’t just a counter-offer, rather it felt like an blatant contempt of insult.
Raju’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Are you mocking me, kid? Don’t think the Singhania name is enough to keep your head on your shoulders up here... Throw him out."
Chetan, the largest man on the roof, stood up with a slow, menacing grin and closed the distance to Rohit. He reached out to shove him back.
Rohit didn’t move. "I think you misunderstand," he said quietly. "My partnership will be so profitable that twenty percent will look like small-minded thinking."
Raju’s voice cracked like a whip. "Chetan. Wait."
The big man froze. Raju cracked his knuckles and and turned to Rohit, locking his eyes. "And what is this profit, exactly?"
"I’m offering you a way to control over Delhi," Rohit said. "All of it."
A beat of silence, then the rooftop erupted. This time it was even bigger than the earlier.
Laughter rolled across the men like a wave, loud and derisive. Raju shook his head, almost impressed by the audacity.
He stood and paced toward Rohit, his limp more pronounced up close. "Kid... do you have any idea how big Delhi is? Do you know the players are involved?" He gestured at his leg. "I lost this just to hold onto this small corner of the slums."
He patted Rohit’s shoulder with mock pity. "For the laugh, I’ll drop it to fifteen percent this time. But the partnership stays at twenty. That’s my final word."
He began to turn away.
"Then what about Gayatri?" Rohit said. "Don’t you want revenge for her too?"
Raju stopped.
The laughter died.
Every man on the roof rose slowly, hands moving toward concealed blades. The air shifted into something dangerous.
Raju turned around. His face had changed entirely. He crossed the distance in three steps and seized Rohit by the collar, pulling him closer to his face.
"Don’t you ever say that name," he whispered. His voice was trembling — not with anger alone, but with something older and heavier. "You have no idea what I would give for that.."
Without a word, Rohit pulled out his phone and hit play.
The screen showed Kasim , Ahmed’s cousin being laid on table naked, broken and bleeding. His face was barely recognizable as he confessed everything.
"He’s dead," Rohit said flatly. "I have his full confession and a complete map of Ahmed’s operations. Side with me, and we dismantle Ahmed together. You get your revenge. I get my partner."
Raju didn’t respond. He didn’t even seem to hear the pitch. His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching the man who had destroyed his life and reduced it to nothing.
Years ago, Raju had been the right hand of the Mukhtar gang — a rising star, until he fell for a temple priest’s daughter. Kasim had wanted her too, and when Raju refused to step aside, the gang had crushed him.
They broke his leg, humiliated him, and forced him to watch as Kasim took everything from Gayatri before shipping her away like cargo. It was a wound that had never closed.
Now, on a small phone screen, he watched Kasim dying a dog’s death.
Raju’s hands began to shake.
He released Rohit’s collar.
His breath came in ragged gasps — and then he threw his head back and screamed at the night sky like a man possesed.
"The motherfucker is dead! Gayatri, do you hear that? The fucking dog died in the dirt like a dog he is! Hahahah!"
His men stared.
Raju turned back to them, face flushed, eyes wild with something between grief and joy that had no clean name.
He turned to Rohit and pulled his hand forward as if to introduce properly. Then, slapped him hard on the back. "This kid.. he’s the real deal. He did what none of us could for ten fucking years."
Chetan backed down slowly, the menace gone from his face, replaced by something that looked almost like respect.
Raju extended his hand. "You have my word, Rohit. Five percent. Partners until the end."
Rohit shook it.
The celebration lasted only a moment before one of the older men stepped forward, his expression grim. "Boss... what about Anna Venkatesh? He won’t sit idle while we move on Delhi. He’ll see this as an act of war."
Rohit checked his watch . "I’ve already accounted for him." He looked up. "To make this work, you’re going to need to steal a van tonight."