Second Chance: A Dark Tale of Urban India-Chapter 111: Something is not right(Jyoti’s fate)

**Vasant kunj, Near mla’s resort, 5.45 pm**

The protest outside MLA Sudhanshu Thakur’s lavish resort in Vasant Kunj had gathered real momentum. Around twenty-five agitated men of different ages stood at the main gate, raising their voices under the sinking evening sun.

Their slogans rang out sharp and furious.

"Sudhanshu Thakur. Go down! Corrupt MLA. Go down!"

"Black money in the resort! Justice for the slum!"

"Return the land you stole from the poor!"

Priya Dasgupta stood a few meters away, microphone firmly in hand, her expression focused as she faced the camera. Handwritten protest signs bobbed behind her.

"Viewers, this is Priya Dasgupta reporting live for EPB News from Vasant Kunj," she began, her voice clear and urgent. "We are standing right outside the private resort owned by MLA Sudhanshu Thakur. For the past hour, local residents and activists have been raising serious allegations of bribery and misuse of black money in the name of slum rehabilitation. They claim that while poor families are being evicted from their homes, this sprawling resort was built using dirty money."

Another loud round of slogans erupted behind her.

"Hiding criminals. Shame, shame!"

"Seize the area. Don’t let anyone leave!"

"The protesters are demanding a thorough investigation into the land deals and accusing MLA Sudhanshu Thakur of protecting criminals inside these very premises. Notably, the MLA himself has not yet appeared at the scene. The atmosphere here is tense, and the situation is rapidly heating up. Stay tuned with EPB News as we bring you the ground reality, unfiltered."

Priya lowered the microphone and turned to her cameraman, Danesh, who had just stopped recording.

"Danesh, pass me the water bottle please," she said, wiping sweat from her forehead. "My throat is killing me. If they don’t hike my salary this time, I swear I’m going to burn the whole studio."

Danesh chuckled, his tone light. "You can still switch to modeling, you know. I’m telling you, you’re wasting your time here. This industry requires a lot of grinding, and even then there’s no guarantee unless you get a big scoop or some strong connections."

Priya gave him a sharp stare, then took a long gulp of water. "No thanks. I’ll make my name through my own efforts. I don’t need easy money through shortcuts."

Danesh laughed and raised his hands in apology. "Sorry, sorry... I was just kidding. Anyway, how did your solo sting operation go? What did the chief editor say about your ’fake mobile lost’ case?"

Priya rolled her eyes. "Please don’t remind me. I wasted so much energy shouting about citizens’ rights, and that video was solid proof of police negligence. But all he cared about was footage of some rich kid — Rohit Singhania."

Danesh suddenly cut her off, pointing toward the road. "Hey, did you notice that? Five new bikes just came from that side and joined the rally directly. Isn’t that strange?"

Priya’s expression turned serious. "Now that you mention it... yes. Except for maybe ten or twelve, most of them look really young. Like some college graduates at most... The crowd wasn’t this big in the beginning."

Danesh narrowed his eyes. "You know what this means?"

Both spoke at the same time with a new spark in their eyes: "Wave strategy."

Danesh glanced around. With them being the only media crew present and no police in sight yet, a grin spread across his face. "We’re about to get a good scoop. This is our chance."

Priya wiped the sweat from her forehead once more and nodded. "Let’s get back to work."

***

A drone hovered silently in the night sky above the resort, its camera capturing every detail below.

From above, the property looked more like a sprawling farmhouse villa than a proper resort. The only things giving it a resort-like touch were two extra cottages and a decent-sized pool in the center of the compound. Even though the sun had set, festive lighting made everything crystal clear.

The drone slowly circled, noting key areas: the garage, the lawn leading to the front gate, and the back gate where a van was being loaded with crates. Guards patrolled the large grounds with batons, sticks, and torches in hand. Mostly concentrated near the front gate.

Then the camera zoomed in on the poolside area.

Harsha leaned back on a lounge chair wearing only his pants, one arm resting lazily over the edge. His hair was damp, and his lean body glistened under the colorful lights, droplets of water still clinging to his skin as if he had just stepped out of the pool.

A half-finished glass sat untouched beside him, his pistol placed right next to it. His face was tight with worry as he scrolled through his phone.

The sudden appearance of the crowd demanding justice had put him on a dangerously thin rope.

He could have left earlier if not for the girl and the illegal items still being shifted out of the cottages.

"I’m telling you," one of his men said, crouched near a crate, "the van is already full. This one is the lightest. For the rest... we might need more trips."

"Then move it," Harsha replied without looking up. "Why are you telling me problems? Solve them."

The man shrugged. "Just saying, it will take time. You should have told me earlier last night when I came to deliver."

"It’s not our fault that some stupid fucks suddenly decided to gather and protest outside our resort like it’s their father’s property." Gaurav Thakur muttered," Some ungrateful bastard must have shared our intel."

This guy was, another member of Harsha’s gang and son of the current MLA Sudhanshu Thakur, lay sprawled on a pool lounger like a fluffy ball. A male masseur was oiling his back, clearly inexperienced but doing his job as staff.

The man with crates replied with a half-scoff, "Whatever. I’ll charge extra," and walked away.

"Poor fucker," Gaurav scorned, then snapped at the masseur, "Hey! Don’t you know how to apply pressure? Even a girl can do a better job than you."

A few feet away, two of Harsha’s so-called rich friends were playing cards, laughing loudly as if they were at a weekend party instead of sitting on a ticking time bomb.

One of them mocked, "I’m telling you, Fatty is wasted. The fucker went straight for her boobs, then tried to shove his whiny little thing into her mouth. Bitch bit it hard, and now he’s venting on the poor waiter. I bet his dick will never get hard again."

The other guy snickered. "Tsk, stupid fatty. Should’ve at least drugged her earlier. Now he can only wank to porn."

"I heard you bastards," Gaurav whined, eyes still closed. "My dick is still hard and fine. And if you dare doubt it, this thing can even pregnant your moms."

The first guy mocked him instantly. "Oh yeah? With her tooth prints all over it, I seriously doubt that."

The other one, taking a deep drag of weed, didn’t miss the chance. "And it makes more sense now why he’s getting hard from male touch."

Both of them shared a mocking high-five. Gaurav threw the oil bottle in their direction and yelled, "Fuck off from my private property if you’ve got so much problem!"

Harsha gave him a sharp look. "Fatty."

Gaurav immediately went silent and leaned back down.

Harsha’s voice turned cold and sharp. "You know what kind of headache you’ve caused us? You swore she would accept the money. When she refused, you forced yourself on her and beat her half to death. Do you think this is some fucking joke?"

Just then, Triloki came running in wearing only his pants. "Make way for John Cena!" he shouted and jumped into the pool with a loud splash, sending water flying everywhere.

He surfaced casually, wiping his face. "Hey, relax. If Fatty hadn’t tried, I would’ve gone first. I’m still saying — we can drug her and use her. The consignment gig is still active in the group. Once they take her, she won’t be our headache anymore."

Harsha scoffed. "Maybe earlier, but not now. The way she is right now, I can’t let anyone do anything stupid." His face darkened with worry. "First we need to relocate all the stuff, then wait till midnight. Fuck... this bastard isn’t even picking up my calls. Great."

Anirudh came huffing toward them. "Harsha, the crowd outside is getting crazier. I doubt they’ll stay at the gate for long. We need to do something fast."

Harsha scowled and stood up, finishing his drink in one gulp. "Then send more men, dammit. We need to move now." He turned to Anirudh. "Take the girl from inside and burn the rest. We cannot risk it."

Everyone started getting ready to pack up — except Gaurav, whose face had gone pale.

"Hey... you’re really leaving? Who’s going to handle the aftermath? My dad will kill me!"

Triloki climbed out of the pool and squeezed Gaurav’s chubby cheek. "Relax, Fatty. You’re the MLA’s son. Nothing’s going to happen to you."

Bark! Bark!

Suddenly, the sound of a dog barking echoed from the backyard, followed by two sharp gunshots. Then complete silence.

Harsha’s face stiffened. His eyes turned sharp and alert. "That came from the backyard. Something is not right."