The rain had stopped by morning, but the air inside the Crimson Fangs' hideout still felt heavy.
The kind of heavy you feel before a storm.
I sat in the briefing room—a dim, concrete space with flickering tube lights and smoke-stained walls. One side had a large whiteboard covered in names, turf zones, and red string connections that looked more like a detective's nightmare than a gang's operation chart.
A perfect place for devils like us.
I leaned back in the old steel chair, trying to process what just happened yesterday. My first mission, My promotion.
I was now an Executive.
Sounds powerful, right?
But here's the truth: in the Crimson Fangs, power isn't just about the title. It's about how you survive.
---
🔱 The Crimson Fangs' Ranking System:
1. The Fang (Boss) – Kiyaan Malik. Cold. Brutal. Strategic. But underneath, a man who never sends someone to a battlefield he wouldn't walk himself.
2. The Inner Circle – A group of 4–5 top Executives who handle all high-level decisions and have Kiyaan's ear.
3. Executives – That's where I now stand. We command squads, handle money runs, intelligence, and security. Trusted, but always watched.
4. Lieutenants – Brutal and ambitious. They're soldiers who earned field respect and control districts.
5. Operators – Your everyday gangsters. Enforcers, drivers, smugglers, muscle.
6. Recruits – The nameless. The desperate. Most won't live long enough to get a title.
---
The door creaked open.
In walked Vijay—tall, lean, muscular, in his early twenties. His presence filled the room the way a blade fills your throat when it's too late to scream.
Dark stubble lined his jaw, and a thin scar ran from his ear to his cheekbone, like a signature left behind by the streets.
"Heard you leveled up, Rookie."
I smirked. "Yeah. Almost got my head blown off, though."
He pulled up a chair and lit a cigarette. "Then you did it right."
Vijay wasn't just another Executive—he was respected. Even by the Lieutenants. Rumor says he once walked out of a cartel warehouse after killing everyone inside—and didn't even reload. I don't know if that's true, but I've seen him take down five men with nothing but a chair leg.
But to me… he's more than muscle.
He's the one who pulled me out of a knife fight two years ago when I was still a nameless street rat.
The one who taught me how to fight smart, not just hard.
"You're sharp, Amit," he said once. "But sharp blades snap if you swing too early."
Now we sat side by side. Both Executives. Brothers in blood and title.
---
The intercom crackled.
"All Executives to the war room. Now."
The voice was deep. Cold.
Kiyaan Malik.
---
The war room wasn't anything grand—just a steel table, maps, and enough weapons stashed in the walls to start a civil war.
Kiyaan stood at the head of the room. His black leather trench coat draped over his shoulders like a shadow. His beard, as always, neatly trimmed. That scar by his left eye? Still as chilling as the day I first saw it.
He nodded at me when I entered. A small nod. But it meant everything.
"We've got a problem," he said, eyes scanning each of us like a hawk.
"There's a new gang rising. Fast. Too fast."
He slammed a photo on the table.
White snake emblem. Black jackets. Young faces. Ruthless eyes.
"They call themselves the White Serpents."
---
I felt something twist in my gut.
I'd heard the name. Whispers on the streets. Dealers going missing. Turf shifting.
But I didn't think they were real.
"They came out of nowhere. No alliances. No known boss. But in the last three months, they've taken over two of our minor zones and burned one of our cash houses to the ground."
He let that hang in the air.
Vijay spoke first. "Sounds like someone's backing them. No new gang grows this fast without someone feeding them money, weapons... or blood."
Kiyaan nodded. "Exactly. We've seen this before. Someone's trying to disrupt the balance."
I clenched my fists under the table.
"What do we know about their leader?" I asked.
He looked at me.
"Nothing."
Silence.
"No name. No face. Not even a confirmed sighting. Just this…"
He slid a photo across the table.
Graffiti. A white serpent coiled around a city skyline.
Fresh paint. Fresh threat.
---
Kiyaan folded his arms.
"You've all earned your rank. But ranks mean nothing if we let these snakes slither through our house. From now, all Executives will be assigned scouts, eyes, and field agents. I want movements tracked, connections traced, and any traitors rooted out."
He looked at me. Directly.
"Amit, you're new blood. I want your instincts sharp. You see anything strange, you bring it to me or Vijay."
"Understood, sir."
---
After the meeting, Vijay and I walked out into the alley where our bikes were parked.
He tossed me a pair of gloves.
"Get used to sleeping in light, Amit. The city's changing."
I looked up at the sky.
Grey clouds returning.
The war hadn't started yet—but the Serpents had made their move.
And I had a feeling they weren't just here for territory.
---
This wasn't just another turf war.
This was a message.
And someone out there wanted us to bleed.
---
TO BE CONTINUED...