Chapter 147: Attacking the Farmhouse Part-3
"How about you face
now?" Amir taunted. "I’m not so amateur you’ve been dealing with."
Rohit narrowed his eyes, his body tensed. The way Amir held the blade, the way his weight shifted—it told him everything. This man was on a completely different level from the guards he had just cut through. He was tall, heavy and fresh.
Suddenly, Rohit’s phone rang.
Amir cracked his neck with a loud pop. "Go on. I don’t have all night. Pick it up."
Rohit glanced at the screen. It was Raju. He answered.
A frantic voice ca through. "Where the hell are you? Fuckers got assault rifles..damnit. We need to regroup.."
"I killed sixteen of them alone," Rohit said coldly. "Now I’m facing Amir. Will call you later when I’m done."
He hung up without waiting for a reply.
Amir scoffed. "Getting cocky, aren’t you? You coming, or should I?"
Rohit didn’t respond. He slid the phone back into his pocket, tightened his grip on the machete, and moved.
He lunged forward with a powerful strike aid at his shoulder.
Amir sidestepped easily. The blade missed his body and bit into the ground. Rohit twisted his wrist and brought the machete up in a rising slash, but Amir parried it cleanly.
"Good maneuver," Amir smirked, "but there’s no strength behind it."
Rohit spun and delivered a wide horizontal arc. Amir leaned back, letting the blade whistle past his chest.
"Your footwork is sloppy," he taunted. "I can read your intent from a mile away."
Rohit attacked relentlessly, weilding it with both hands, putting all his power into every strike.
But Amir danced around him effortlessly, parrying when needed, dodging when he felt like it, clearly enjoying himself.
"More... more..." Amir laughed. "It’s too easy."
Then he shifted.
He parried Rohit’s strike with a powerful twist, and drove a heavy punch into his gut.
The blow lifted Rohit off his feet. A follow-up kick sent him flying backward, rolling across the dirt.
"Co on," Amir grinned maniacally. "Amuse . I want to see how good the killer of Chotu really is."
Rohit wiped blood from his split lip and pushed himself up, breathing hard. Pain flared across his body.
Fuck... I am so exhausted. Can’t keep up too long. Need.. just one opening.
His vision blurred, but he forced himself to stand.
The mont Rohit tried to steady his footing, Amir closed the distance in a flash. The blade ca down in a brutal diagonal arc toward his shoulder.
Rohit barely raised his machete in ti.
Clang.
The impact jarred his arms. He staggered back.
Amir gave him no breathing room.
The second strike ca instantly — a straight stab at his ribs. Rohit twisted desperately. The blade grazed his jacket as he stumbled sideways.
Amir pressed forward without pause.
Rohit raised his machete to block, but the force drove him down to one knee. Amir leaned in, grinding his blade against Rohit’s. The edge crept closer to his throat.
"Enough," Amir hissed. "Ti for your judgnt."
He kicked Rohit’s lead leg out. Rohit tumbled backward. Amir wrenched his blade free and swung down hard.
Rohit threw himself sideways. The machete slamd into the dirt where his body had been.
Amir didn’t stop. He ripped the blade free and unleashed a series of brutal overhead chops. Rohit scrambled and rolled desperately across the ground, the blade carving lines in the dirt around him.
"Hahaha! Keep rolling, you little bug!" Amir laughed wildly. "Let’s see how long you last!"
Rohit’s breathing grew ragged. His body scread with pain. He tried to push himself up —
Amir was already above him, machete raised high.
Then —
BOOM.
A deafening explosion tore through the building. Fire flashed from the kitchen windows as the shockwave rattled the courtyard.
Amir’s eyes flicked toward the flas for a split second.
Rohit didn’t waste it.
Still on the ground, he grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it straight into Amir’s face.
"Tch—!" Amir recoiled, eyes stinging. "Dirty bastard."
Lying on the ground, Rohit slamd a sharp kick into Amir’s left knee, then followed with another to the sa spot. Amir’s stance buckled.
Enraged, Amir chopped blindly downward.
Rohit rolled swiftly to the side, evading the strike, and ca up on Amir’s other side. He drove two more hard kicks into the side and back of the knee.
Amir’s legs gave way. He dropped heavily to both knees.
Rohit pushed himself up from the ground in one explosive motion and drove the machete deep into his abdon.
Amir gasped, his machete slipping from his hand and clattering to the ground, blood spilling over Rohit’s grip.
For a split second, everything froze. Amir stared at Rohit in disbelief.
He grabbed Rohit’s collar, pulling him close, blood bubbling from his mouth.
"You—"
Rohit didn’t wait.
He ripped the blade free and slashed it across Amir’s throat in one clean motion.
Blood sprayed in a violent arc.
Amir staggered back, eyes wide, then collapsed heavily onto the dirt.
Silence.
Rohit stood over the body, breathing hard, the machete dripping in his hand.
Rohit moved in slow, heavy steps toward the entrance of the Eastern Wing and stopped just outside it. He didn’t go in imdiately. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and let himself breathe.
His ribs ached. His left hand throbbed under the bandage. The adrenaline was fading fast.
Footsteps approached from his right.
Robin appeared around the corner, forehead bleeding from a shallow cut, a kitchen knife still wet with blood in his hand.
Rohit raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry, sir," Robin said, catching his breath. "The chef decided to be a problem. Had to go through him."
Rohit held out his hand without a word.
Robin understood imdiately and placed the pistol in it.
Rohit checked the magazine. Eleven rounds left. He clicked it back into place and pushed himself off the wall. He nodded toward the eastern wing door. Robin fell in behind him.
The door opened into a narrow hallway, dimly lit, no guards visible. Two doors sat at the far end, both locked. Rohit didn’t slow down. He raised the pistol and shot both locks clean. The sounds were quiet enough with the suppressor. Nobody ca running.
He glanced at Robin once and they split, each taking a door.
Rohit pushed his open.
His expression dropped.
A single chair sat in the center of the room, ropes hanging loose and empty around it. Whatever had been here was already gone.
He stood there for a mont staring at it.
"Fuck." He ran a hand through his hair. "All for nothing. Where the hell has he gone?"
"Sir." Robin’s voice ca from across the hallway, quieter than usual. "In here."
Sothing in his tone made Rohit move fast.
He stepped through Robin’s door and stopped.
The room was large and dim, a single bare bulb casting weak yellow light across the floor. A ceiling fan turned slowly overhead. The single window was shuttered and bolted. There was no furniture. No ventilation worth speaking of.
Fourteen, maybe fifteen won sat huddled together on the floor, pressed against the far wall. Different ages, different faces, all of them gagged and bound at the wrists.
Their clothes were torn in places, so badly, the fabric pulled and stretched in ways that told a story nobody needed to explain.
The fear in their eyes was the specific kind that had been there long enough to settle in — not the panic of the newly frightened but sothing quieter and deeper.
They flinched the mont the door opened, shrinking together instinctively.
Robin raised both hands. "We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to get you out."
He looked at Rohit. Rohit nodded.
The won didn’t move. Most pressed further back. One didn’t.
Rohit noticed her imdiately — less dust on her clothes, less hollowness in her face. Newer. She was dragging herself forward across the floor toward him, wrists still bound, moving with a kind of desperate urgency that the others had long stopped feeling.
He crouched down and pulled the gag from her mouth.
It was Priya Dasgupta.
He almost didn’t recognize her. The last ti he had seen her was near the police station two days ago, sharp eyed and composed, the kind of reporter who asked questions that made people uncomfortable. That version of her was gone. What remained was red eyed, tear streaked, dust and dried blood on her face, her shirt torn at the collar and buttons broken.
She looked at him and sothing broke open in her expression.
"They killed Danesh," she said, voice cracking imdiately. "We were on our way back and a van ca.." She couldn’t finish. Her voice broke as she dissolved into uncontrollable sobs.
Rohit pulled her in and let her cry against his shoulder without saying anything. He pieced it together from what she couldn’t say. Ambushed on the road. Her colleague killed in front of her. She was brought here and locked up with the others like inventory waiting to be moved.
He reached back and unclipped his jacket, draping it around her shoulders. "We’re getting all of you out. I promise."
Whether it was his voice or simply the familiarity of a known face, sothing shifted in the room. One by one the other won began moving towards Robin, holding out their bound wrists. Robin worked quickly, moving between them with steady hands, loosening knots.
Then Rohit’s phone buzzed. Lisa.
[Sir, Akhil’s location has been identified. He is currently being moved by Jayesh’s guards. They are preparing to exit.]
Rohit typed quickly. "Location?"
[Tracking is limited. Device scope obstructed, likely pocketed. Current movent pattern indicates planned exit via rear garage. Recomnd imdiate action. Guards assessed as Threat Tier 4, ard with assault rifles. Exercise heightened caution.]
’That explains why no guard around.’
Rohit read it once and pocketed the phone.
He called out to Robin. "Finish untying them. Then call Raju. Tell him east wing, rear garage, now."
Robin looked up. "And you?"
Rohit was already moving toward the door.
"I’m ending this."
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