The prison cell was cold, but not as cold as the fury inside Param Singh Chaddha.

His hands, still bruised from the guard's restraint, trembled as he replayed the court scene in his head — Viom standing proud, Piya untouched, his legacy falling apart before flashing cameras.

"This isn't justice," he muttered to himself.

"This is theft. This is betrayal."

He paced the small cell, ignoring the security camera above him. One of his connections had already been paid to ensure he could speak to a visitor without audio recording. Everything was in place.

Exactly as it had been, 15 years ago.

Param closed his eyes, drifting into memory — the blood, the fire, the broken cries of Ranjan Kaur as she tried to protect her daughter. The helpless screams of young Piya, barely conscious as he watched her world burn.

"She remembers," he whispered, eyes snapping open. "That scream in the hospital... that wasn't pain. That was the past."

He smiled. Slowly.

A guard tapped the bars.

"You got five minutes. No cameras in this wing. Make it quick."

Param stepped into the darkened booth. A tall, well-dressed man entered the opposite side. Silent. Loyal. Paid handsomely.

"Go ahead," the man said. "Your last favor."

Param leaned forward.

"I want him dead. Viom. And his parents.

Same place. Same style.

I want her to watch this time — just like she watched her own parents die.

That's how you break a soul. That's how you take everything back."

The man gave a slight nod.

"And if she survives?"

Param's eyes turned black.

"She won't."

⸻

Outside, thunder rumbled.

The darkness that had once silenced Piya Kaur had returned — but this time, she wasn't alone.

And Param had no idea that this time... the prey had claws.

It was just past midnight.

The moon hung low, its pale glow slipping through the trees surrounding the Chaddha family estate — once a symbol of pride and tradition, now cloaked in a strange, unnerving silence.

Not a single light was on.

No staff.

No guards at the gates.

No movement inside.

To the average eye, it looked abandoned — perhaps even vulnerable.

But that was exactly the point.

The man in the black hoodie — lean, agile, experienced — climbed over the side wall, his boots landing silently on the manicured grass. His face was hidden under a scarf. His gloved fingers clutched a custom-made knife, glinting with poisoned edge.

He had one task: eliminate the parents of Viom Chaddha.

And vanish.

He crept toward the rear door, which was... unlocked.

Too easy.

He slipped inside.

The house was cold. Pitch black.

He pulled out a small flashlight, scanning the hallway.

Paintings. Marble floors. Silent rooms.

He turned right, toward the master bedroom.

The hallway grew narrower.

Quieter.

Too quiet.

Suddenly — the door creaked.

He froze.

Then smiled to himself.

"You made it easier," he whispered, stepping in.

The bedroom was empty. The bed untouched.

And then... the overhead lights flicked on.

Blinding. Blazing. White.

"Drop the weapon!" came a voice — sharp, commanding.

He spun around — only to see six armed officers surrounding him, weapons raised, red-dot lasers dancing across his chest.

Behind them, emerging from the shadows — Viom, fully alert, with a pistol trained at the intruder's head.

"I was hoping you'd take the bait," Viom said coolly. "Took you longer than expected."

The attacker tried to run — but steel wires yanked his legs from underneath.

A trap in the floor.

He fell hard, the knife clattering away.

Before he could recover, two officers had him pinned, arms behind his back, zip ties locking tight.

One officer kicked away the knife and said coldly,

"Poison-tipped. Subtle. We'll enjoy tracing that back to your master."

Viom stepped closer, his voice low but lethal:

"You didn't come here for robbery. Or warning. You came to finish a massacre.

But let me say this — you're not hunting anymore.

You're already in the lion's den."

The intruder struggled, cursing, but Viom didn't flinch.

From the hallway, another figure appeared.

Radhika Chaddha — Viom's mother — walked in calmly, holding a recording device.

"You should know," she said, tapping it, "this entire operation has been documented.

This is what your boss didn't plan for — a family that fights together."

As the officers hauled the attacker away, Viom looked out the window.

He knew Param wouldn't stop.

But now they weren't waiting.

They were hunting him back.