“Hello.”
Naksh’s greeting to the guards had barely left his mouth when a thunderous voice slammed through the line. “You bloody third-class man — how dare you, huh?” Alok Raghuvanshi’s contempt made Naksh’s fingers clamp harder around the phone.

 “I’m warning you — if Yuvraj isn’t back at the Raghuvanshi house within one hour, you’ll see my real face. Mind it,” the old man spat, and cut the call.