The cold air of the Himalayan foothills bit into General Arjun Singh’s skin, but he didn't flinch. He stood at the edge of the ravine, staring down at the mangled wreckage of a supply truck. This wasn't an accident. The claw marks on the metal were too deep, the scent of copper and musk too thick in the air.
"It’s not a ghost, General," Zoya whispered, touching a smear of fresh blood on a jagged rock. "It’s a king. And you’ve just stepped into his throne room." The cold air of the Himalayan foothills bit
Arjun had been sent by the Ministry to neutralize the threat, but he knew this wasn't a standard hunt. He was joined by Zoya, a local tracker whose father had been taken by the same beast a decade ago. She didn't carry a high-powered rifle like Arjun; she carried a hand-forged spear and a burning desire for vengeance. The claw marks on the metal were too
The tiger lunged, a blur of orange and black fury. Arjun fired, the crack of the rifle echoing through the valley, but the beast was a shadow. It slammed into him, pinning the soldier to the frozen earth. Arjun looked up into the abyss of the tiger's throat, the smell of death overwhelming his senses. And you’ve just stepped into his throne room