A Deal in the Dark & The Tournament Begins
A Late-Night Encounter
The city was quiet at this hour. Most of the streets were empty, save for a few flickering streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. Wick walked alone, his mind still occupied with tournament strategies.
He had spent hours refining the game plan, calculating every move with Deep and Dev. It was late—too late—but going home alone had never been a concern for him.
Until now.
A slow clap echoed from a dark alleyway.
"Pity." A voice slithered through the night. "How shameful it is that the only heir of the Monarch walks home like a commoner."
Wick's steps didn't falter. He didn't even glance at the source of the voice.
"Walking is healthy. Didn't you know that?" His tone was casual, unfazed. "And so is minding your own damn business."
From the shadows, Hamza stepped forward, his usual smug expression firmly in place.
"Calm down, young man, calm down." He spread his arms as if in mock surrender. "I come with an offer. Now that you're no longer the golden boy of the business world, you might as well serve me. You don't have any options left."
Wick finally stopped.
His eyes met Hamza's, sharp and unwavering.
Then, a smirk tugged at his lips.
"You're right about one thing." Wick's voice was laced with something darker, more confident. "I'm not here to be an associate."
Hamza raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Wick took a step closer, his presence suddenly overpowering.
"I'm here to be your partner."
For the first time, Hamza hesitated. He had expected Wick to be desperate, vulnerable—not standing before him with the same commanding aura he had when he was still untouchable.
He studied Wick for a long moment. "Don't you think you're being too greedy?"
Wick let out a low chuckle. "Maybe." His voice was calm but firm. "But think again. Because I'm not working under you."
A tense silence stretched between them.
Then, Hamza exhaled, smirking. "Deal… partner."
They shook hands. A silent agreement. A dangerous one.
And with that, the tides began to turn.
---
The Championship Begins
The air was electric. The championship arena was packed, the crowd buzzing with anticipation.
Wick stood before his team, arms crossed, eyes scanning every face.
This was their moment.
"Listen up," his voice carried through the group. "We didn't come here to play it safe. We didn't come for a draw. We're here to win." His gaze was sharp, his tone unyielding. "And I don't care what it takes—our names will be at the top when this is over."
His words sent a thrill through the team.
With Wick, Deep, and Dev crafting the strategies, and Wick's aggressive approach leading the charge, the first day ended with an impressive record:
Football: 8 wins | 3 draws | 3 losses
Cricket: 9 wins | 4 losses | 1 tie
Kabaddi: 12 wins | 1 loss | 1 tie
Wick won every match he played.
Aryan lost only one.
Vaibhav lost three but proved himself.
And Shristi…
She was the trump card. The unpredictable force that no one saw coming.
Wick knew it. Everyone knew it.
As the tournament pressed on, Wick had something else to take care of.
---
A Place to Call Home
Even as victories stacked up, Wick had no desire to return to his uncle's house. Seeing that man every day? Living under his roof? No chance.
And so, he went to Hamza.
"I need a place to stay." His words were direct. "Away from my uncle."
Hamza, amused, leaned back in his chair. "So soon? Didn't take you long to cash in on our partnership."
Wick didn't respond to the jab. He simply waited.
Hamza smirked, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll set you up in one of my flats. You can move in tonight."
A new start.
Or at least, something close to it.
But before that, Wick had one last stop to make.
---
A Forgotten Gift
Stepping into his aunt's house for the last time, Wick moved swiftly, gathering only the essentials. He didn't take much—only what mattered.
As he reached into an old drawer, his fingers brushed against something unexpected.
A small box, covered in dust.
Curious, he opened it.
Inside, a bracelet. Simple, unremarkable at first glance—until he turned it over and saw the inscription.
A gift for you, little one. May you always stand tall.
His breath hitched slightly. It was given to him when he was born.
But by who?
He didn't know.
Still, something about it felt right.
Without hesitation, Wick slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.
For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself a small, genuine smile.
And just like that, the next chapter of his life began.
To be continued...