The night had settled heavily over Bandipora when Vijay and I were called into SP Adil Khan’s office. The building was quiet in the way government offices only get after something terrible has happened.

  The door opened.

  SP Adil Khan walked in, his face unreadable.

  “Jai Hind,” he said.

  “Jai Hind,” we replied together.

  He gestured for us to sit.

  I leaned forward. “Sir—what’s happened?”

  He leaned back, fingers interlocked. “This evening, the DGP met the Chief Minister. Let’s just say the CM wasn’t calm.”

  Vijay exhaled through his nose.

  “The CM is furious,” the SP continued. “About the massacre. About Rithinagar. About everything that followed.”

  “And now?” Vijay asked.

  “The DGP just called,” the SP said finally. “The Malik gang in Bandipora is to be neutralized immediately. The CM has greenlit the operation. Full authority.”

  Vijay gave a bitter laugh. “We’ve been begging for political backing for years. And now—because his daughter was almost killed—he’s suddenly discovered outrage?”

  “Enough,” SP Adil snapped. “I understand your anger, Vijay—but this isn’t the room for it.”

  Silence followed.

  The SP turned to me. “DSP Pandey. Right now, you’re the officer I trust most to lead this operation.”

  I stiffened. “Sir—Vijay should be part of this.”

  The SP raised an eyebrow.

  “He has more combat experience than I do,” I continued. “And this isn’t just Malik anymore. Mansoor and Malik are working together. That means double the manpower, double the weapons, and zero margin for error.”

  Vijay stayed quiet. He knew what I was doing.

  “We’ll need SOG,” I said. “And Vijay has led SOG units before. He knows their structure, their limitations, and their strengths. If this operation has to succeed, he needs to be with me.”

  The SP studied us both.

  Then a voice cut in.

  “Smart decision.”

  We turned.

  A man in civilian clothes walked into the chamber—calm, confident, unreadable. The SP stood up.

  “Major Imran Ali,” he said. “Army Intelligence.”

  The Major nodded slightly and took a seat.

  “The operation will be overseen by Army Intelligence,” the SP said. “Major Ali will brief you.”

  I looked at him. “Sir—why Army Intelligence?”

  Major Ali met my eyes. “Because in a few days, Special Forces will conduct an operation deep inside PoK.”

  The room went still.

  “Our intel suggests Malik has been receiving heavy weapons from across the border for months,” he continued. “SF is targeting the supply sources and storage sites. So that they can hit the supply chain.”

  “And us?” I asked.

  “We need Iftab Malik,” the Major said calmly. “Alive.”

  The room went cold.

  “You want him arrested?” I said. “After what he did?”

  I stood up. “He walked into Rithinagar in broad daylight. Killed civilians. Killed our brothers—police officers from my own station. Burned the place to the ground. And you want me to protect him?”

  Major Ali’s tone hardened instantly.

  “Calm down, son.”

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  I clenched my fists.

  “If you can’t control your emotions here,” he said, “then SP Khan has chosen the wrong man to lead this mission. Special Forces operations cannot get compromised because of personal rage.”

  Then his eyes locked onto mine.

  “If you can’t separate grief from duty, you shouldn’t lead this operation.”

  I swallowed everything burning inside me. I nodded. “Understood, sir.”

  Inside, I already knew the truth.

  I would kill Iftab Malik the very first chance I get.

  The SP exhaled in relief. Vijay said nothing, but I felt his eyes on me.

  “Good,” the SP said. “You don't have much time. Plan the operation. Execute it two nights from now.”

  “After today,” Vijay said, “they’ll be on high alert.”

  “Then we’ll be prepared,” I replied.

  The SP looked at me. “Against their firepower?”

  I didn’t hesitate. “We’ll need better weapons and equipment.”

  Major Ali nodded. “Prepare a list. The Army will provide everything.”

  Then his gaze sharpened.

  “But remember, DSP—bringing Malik in alive is your highest priority.”

  We stood up.

  The meeting was over.

  All the three men then get up and leave the SP's chamber.

  As we walked out of the chamber, I realized something had changed—not just in the case, not just in the politics—

  But in me.

  This wasn’t just an operation anymore.

  It was war—disguised as procedure.

  As we walked out, Vijay finally broke the silence.

  “How the hell are we supposed to plan and execute something this big in just two days?” he asked.

  I didn’t slow down.

  “Who said the planning has to be done in two days?”

  He stopped walking. “What does that mean?”

  “It means the planning didn’t start today,” I said. “It started weeks ago.”

  Vijay looked at me, waiting.

  “I used Farooque,” I said. “Quietly. How do you think I knew about Malik and Mansoor joining hands before it became a rumor?”

  “He sent his men into Malik’s territory in the north—mapped their movement, identified safe houses, and the primary base of operations.”

  Vijay’s jaw tightened. “You’re trusting intel from criminals now?”

  “Of course not,” I replied without hesitation. “Which is why I need you to verify every single detail.”

  He shook his head. “You’re asking me to trust scum long enough to stake lives on it.”

  “I’m asking you to trust your own eyes,” I said. “You go north tonight. Take local police support. Cross-check everything—locations, routes, manpower. By morning, I need confirmation.”

  “One night isn’t enough,” Vijay said. “I still have to brief SOG tomorrow.”

  “I know,” I replied. “But that’s the window we have. Malik will tighten his defenses after today. Every hour we wait, the odds worsen.”

  I exhaled sharply. “How many SOG units are you thinking?”

  “For an operation like this?” Vijay said. “At least a dozen.”

  I looked at him. “You’ve already picked the team.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” I said. “Give me the names.”

  I handed him the intel file. He skimmed it once, his face hardening. Then he pulled out a folded paper and handed it to me.

  “Best men I have,” he said. “No hesitation. No loose cannons.”

  “By the time you report back tomorrow,” I said, “they’ll already be assembled.”

  Vijay nodded once, then turned without another word and walked toward his vehicle.

  As he disappeared into the darkness of north Bandipora, I stood there knowing one thing for certain—

  This operation had already begun.

  I got home long after midnight.

  My mother was already asleep. I didn’t wake her. I didn’t want her to see this version of me. I lay down fully clothed, knowing it wouldn’t last.

  Sleep broke before dawn—no rest, just pressure. The kind that pulls you awake because your body knows before your mind does.

  I left the house quietly.

  By first light, the SOG teams were assembling.

  Vijay arrived soon after. He didn’t waste words.

  “Intel checks out,” he said. “Every location. Same guard rotations. Same entry points. Farooque didn’t lie—or didn’t dare.

  That was enough.

  The briefing was held inside a secured warehouse, maps pinned to concrete walls, digital overlays projected on a portable screen. Vijay stood at the center.

  “At 0330 hours,” he began, “we hit this location.”

  He pointed to the marked structure.

  “Two teams. Team A—under me. Team B—under DSP Pandey. Five operators each. Two snipers positioned on opposing rooftops to cover all exits and lanes of approach.”

  The room was silent.

  “Every armed individual inside is hostile,” Vijay continued. “No warnings. No hesitation. Neutralize immediately.”

  He paused, then held up a photograph.

  “This man—Iftab Malik—is a high-value target. He is to be arrested alive. That is a direct order. Team B’s primary objective.”

  A few jaws tightened.

  “Once the structure is cleared, we recover weapons and intel,” Vijay said. “Fast. This is hostile territory. Expect civilian interference, stone pelting, and possible reinforcements. Local police will secure the outer perimeter.”

  He tapped another point on the map.

  “Power will be cut minutes before breach. We enter from opposite ends. Smokes go first. Thermals on. Clear room by room. No shortcuts.”

  Then he looked at me.

  “Chaos will be your biggest enemy,” he said. “Smoke, darkness, noise. Identify Malik carefully.”

  “Of course,” I replied.

  He held my gaze a second longer than necessary—sharp, searching—then nodded and moved on.

  The armory doors opened shortly after.

  Crates lined the floor—rifles, SMGs, thermal optics, breaching charges, comms, night gear. Army Intelligence had delivered without hesitation.

  I stopped at one case. “I didn’t order the TTI STI 2011 Combat Master.”

  “I did,” Vijay said behind me. “My favorite pistol.”

  He picked up a round, rolling it between his fingers.

  “125-grain. 1,425 feet per second,” he said calmly. “Serious business!”

  I took the pistol, weighed it in my hand. “Thank you.”

  Vijay met my eyes. “Let’s begin.”

  The next hours vanished into drills—dry runs, radio checks, entry rehearsals, coordination calls with Army Intelligence and local police. Every movement was repeated until it became instinct. No one spoke more than necessary.

  Then the clock caught up.

  The vehicles idled in formation, engines low, lights dead.

  Men moved with quiet purpose—final weapon checks, silent nods, hands tightening around cold metal. No one spoke unless necessary. This was the point where words stopped helping.

  Before boarding, I turned to the team.

  “What we’re walking into tonight,” I said, “isn’t revenge.”

  A pause. Deliberate.

  “It’s justice.”

  No one responded.

  They didn’t need to.

  The convoy rolled forward, swallowed by the dark road leading north.

  Somewhere ahead, Iftab Malik was breathing freely—still believing the night belonged to him.

  By dawn, it wouldn’t.