18.

The black BMW roared to life as Feras gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Ayan, on his sleek bike, followed close behind, the hum of his engine a sharp contrast to the silence between the two men.

The drive to the abandoned mill was tense. Feras's mind raced with possibilities, his fury simmering beneath his composed exterior. Ayan, usually quick with a joke, was equally focused, the gravity of the situation leaving no room for his usual banter.

As they approached the mill, Feras's phone buzzed. It was a message from Rayan: Be alert. Ibrahim has men stationed. Don't go in unprepared.

Feras parked the BMW a short distance away, stepping out with a grim determination. Ayan dismounted his bike, adjusting his jacket. "What's the plan?"

"We go in," Feras said simply. "Stay sharp."

Ayan looked at him with disbelief "That's it? No plan?".

Feras ignored him and went ahead. Ayan shook his head and followed behind.

They crept toward the mill, their steps muffled against the gravel. The dilapidated building loomed before them, its broken windows and rusted doors a testament to years of abandonment.

The abandoned apartment was cloaked in eerie silence, its broken windows allowing slivers of pale light to filter in. Feras had already called his men, Ayan trailing closely behind. The air was heavy with tension as they entered the decrepit building, their steps careful yet urgent. Feras's sharp gaze scanned every corner, his fury barely contained.

The sight that greeted them stopped everyone in their tracks.

In the dim light of the dingy room, Anam lay unconscious on the cold, dusty floor. Her hijab was discarded a few feet away, her clothes dirty and slightly torn, evidence of a struggle. Towering over her, Aman hovered, his hand extended toward her in a way that made Feras's blood boil.

Ayan and Feras' men quickly turned their heads.

The sound of a gunshot shattered the silence. Feras had fired into the air, his steady hand holding the weapon aloft as the deafening sound echoed. Aman froze, his face draining of color as he turned to see Feras advancing toward him, his dark eyes blazing with unrelenting fury.

"Haram zade, teri itni himmat?" Feras's voice was cold and loud, the kind that made even the bravest man shudder. (You bast*ard, how dare you?)

Aman stumbled back, but before he could react further, Feras reached him in two long strides. Without hesitation, Feras yanked the shawl draped over his shoulders and wrapped it gently around Anam's head. Kneeling by her side, he shook her lightly, his voice soft yet filled with urgency. "Anam... Anam, utho. You're safe now." (Anam.. Anam get up. You're safe now.)

Anam stirred, her eyelids fluttering before they opened. Her dazed eyes met Feras's, and in that moment, her fear gave way to uncontrollable sobs. She clung to him desperately, burying her face in his chest as her tears soaked his beige kurta.

Feras's jaw tightened, but his arms wrapped protectively around her. "Tum thik ho ab," he murmured, more to himself. His voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Mai agaya hun na, ab koi tumhe chot nahi poncha sakta." (You're safe now. I'm here, no one will hurt you again.)

Aman, sensing his chance to flee, made a run for it, but Feras's men and Ayan were faster. They caught him near the entrance, dragging him back despite his protests.

"We found him trying to run," one of the men reported, his grip firm on Aman's arm.

Feras's eyes narrowed, and he gave a curt nod. "Hold him. Hilne na dena is kutte ko." (Don't let that dog run away.)

Turning his attention back to Anam, he wiped the tears from her face. "Sab kuch thik hai Anam, tum fikar mat kro mai agaya hun." (Everything's fine Anam. Don't worry, I'm here.)

Ayan, who had been watching everything with concern etched across his face, spoke up. "Feras bhai, should we—"

"Take him to the car," Feras ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Now."

As Feras lifted Anam to her feet, she clung to him, still trembling. Ayan and the men began to retreat toward the exit, escorting Aman as he struggled against their hold.

Before they could leave, the sharp crack of gunfire tore through the air. The group froze, turning toward the source of the noise. Ibrahim entered the room, flanked by several armed men, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"Going somewhere?" Ibrahim taunted, his gun pointed toward Feras.

Feras's grip on Anam tightened, his protective instinct overriding all else. His eyes burned with a renewed fury as he assessed the situation. "Mujhe pta the tera hi haat tha iss sab ke piche ," he spat. (I knew you were the one behind all this)

Ibrahim chuckled darkly, gesturing toward Aman. "You can thank your dear cousin. He came to me with a request. Said he needed help dealing with his little 'problem.'"

Aman paled, his earlier defiance replaced by fear. "I-I didn't mean for this to go this far!" he stammered, his words spilling over each other.

"Bas!" Feras barked, silencing everyone. His focus shifted back to Ibrahim, his posture calm yet coiled like a predator ready to strike. "Ye teri zindaghi ki akhri galti hai Ibrahim." (Enough! This will be the last mistake of your life, Ibrahim)

The room seemed to hold its breath as Feras stepped forward, shielding Anam behind him. His men reached for their weapons, Ayan positioning himself at Feras's side.

"Yeh sab kuch aj hi khatam hojaye ga," Feras said, his voice dangerously quiet. (Everything will end today itself.)

Ibrahim smirked, clearly unfazed. "We'll see about that."

The sound of gunfire echoed relentlessly through the building as chaos unfolded. Feras's sharp eyes scanned the scene, his every movement calculated and deliberate. His men were trained for situations like these, and so was he. Yet, amidst the chaos, one thing was clear in his mind... he had to protect Anam at all costs.

A quick glance toward her showed her wide, horrified eyes, her trembling hands clutching at the shawl he had draped over her. Her fear was palpable, but she remained frozen in place. Feras's gaze shifted to Ayan, a silent command flashing between them. Ayan gave a slight nod and quickly moved to pull Anam towrrd a safer corner of the building.

But Ibrahim's men were relentless. The moment Ayan tried to move her, gunshots erupted, shattering windows and filling the air with the acrid scent of gunpowder. Ayan shielded Anam with his body, practically dragging her to the relative safety of a dilapidated corner. Anam's breaths ragged as she tried to process the bloodshed around her.

From her vantage point, she could see Feras in action, moving with a precision and confidence that left her stunned. He was a completely different person... swift, strategic, and utterly unrelenting. This was a side of him she had never imagined. The cold, reserved man she knew had transformed into a fierce fighter.

Feras led his men with sharp commands, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. He moved as though this wasn't his first time in a firefight, his posture steady, his aim true. Anam watched in silent awe and terror as he fired shot after shot, incapacitating Ibrahim's men with brutal efficiency.

Ayan, too, joined the fight, ensuring that none of Ibrahim's men reached their corner. Anam pressed herself against the wall, her hands trembling as the world seemed to blur around her.

The tide of the fight turned in Feras's favor. His men and Ayan had the upper hand now, and Ibrahim's forces began to falter. Bodies fell, weapons clattered to the ground, and the once-confident smirk on Ibrahim's face began to waver.

But then, like a cornered animal, Ibrahim made his move. He dashed across the room, grabbing Anam by the arm and pulling her in front of him, his gun presssed against her temple.

"Stay back!" Ibrahim shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. "One more step, and she dies!"

Feras froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing as his gun lowered slightly. His men hesitated, glancing toward him for direction. Ayan's entire body tensed, his knuckles white as he gripped his gun, but he held his position.

"Usko chor, Ibrahim," Feras said, his voice icy and controlled. "You don't want to do this." (Leave her Ibrahim)

"Don't tell me what to do!" Ibrahim barked, his grip on Anam tightening. "You think you've won? I'll show you what happens when someone crosses me!"

Anam whimpered, her eyes darting to Feras. Despite the tears streaming down her face, she tried to stay composed. Her faith was unwavering, Allah is watching... she knew Feras wouldn't let anything happen to her.

"Everyone, drop your weapons," Feras ordered, his voice sharp and authoritative. His men hesitated but obeyed, slowly lowering their guns to the ground.

Ibrahim smirked, his confidence returning. "Good. Now, Feras, you're going to let me walk out of here. And if you try anything, she'll be the one who pays."

Feras's jaw tightened, his mind racing. He couldn't afford to make a mistake, not with Anam's life hanging in the balance. He took a deep breath, his gun still in his hand but pointed away. "You're not walking out of here, Ibrahim. You know that. But you don't have to do this. Let her go, and I'll consider showing you mercy."

Ibrahim scoffed. "Mercy? Tumse? Don't make me laugh!" (Mercy? From you? Don't make me laugh!)

The standoff stretched on, the room tense with the weight of unspoken threats. Ayan's eyes flickered to Feras, waiting for a signal, his body coiled like a spring. Feras, however, remained perfectly still, his dark gaze locked onto Ibrahim, his every muscle ready to strike.

Anam's lips trembled, but she kept murmuring softly, "Nad-e-Aliyyan mazhar al-aja'ib..." Her voice, though barely audible over the tense silence, carried a desperate plea. She clung to the words as if they were her lifeline, her whispered invocations filling the air with a quiet intensity. Her eyes, brimming with tears, shut tightly as she sought solace and protection from Allah through Mola Ali a.s.

"Ya Allah," she murmured, her voice cracking, "please, help me. Protect me. Give Feras the strength to save us."

Feras's sharp eyes caught the subtle movement of her lips, and his chest tightened. Even in the face of this horror, she was turning to her faith. The sight both grounded and enraged him. He would not allow this vile man to harm her any further.

"Enough of your mumbling!" Ibrahim snapped, jerking her roughly. The movement caused Anam to stumble slightly, but her voice didn't waver. She continued to murmur Nad-e-Ali, her quiet defiance stoking the fire of Feras's fury.

"LET HER GO, Ibrahim," Feras growled, his tone low and deadly. "Iska anajam tujhe bohot bhari parega." (You'll pay hard for this)

"You're the one who made the mistake!" Ibrahim snarled. His eyes darted around the room, realizing he was cornered despite his leverage. "I'll take what you value most and leave you with nothing, just like you did to my family!"

Anam's murmurs grew louder, the strength in her voice unwavering as she recited the lines of Nad-e-Ali. She felt the words shield her, wrapping her in a sense of calm amidst the chaos. Her heart raced, but her faith never wavered. Ali Mola, the one called upon in times of trouble... guide us, protect us, she prayed silently.

Ayan, standing a few feet away, clenched his fists, his face pale with restrained anger. He glanced at Feras, who gave him a slight, imperceptible nod. It was the signal he had been waiting for.

Just as Ibrahim tightened his grip on Anam and tried to move back, Ayan suddenly lunged forward, his speed catching Ibrahim off guard. At the same time, Feras raised his gun in a flash, aiming with deadly precision.

Bang!

The single shot rang out, echoing through the room. Ibrahim's gun clattered to the floor as he howled in pain, clutching his arm where Feras had shot him. Ayan yanked Anam away from him, shielding her with his body as Ibrahim staggered back, blood seeping through his sleeve.

Anam collapsed against Ayan, her legs giving out beneath her as tears streamed down her face. Feras was beside her in an instant, pulling her into his arms. The shawl slipped from her head, and he gently adjusted it to cover her trembling form.

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft, though his eyes burned with barely restrained fury. "Sab kuch thik hai ab Anam. I've got you."(Everything's fine now. I've got you)

Anam sobbed into his chest, her hands clutching at his kurta as if letting go would shatter her completely. Feras's arms tightened protectively around her, his cold mask slipping for a brief moment as he pressed his chin to the top of her head.

Behind them, Ibrahim's remaining men began to scatter, realizing they were outnumbered and outmatched. Feras's men rounded them up quickly, ensuring none escaped.

Ibrahim, still clutching his bleeding arm, glared at Feras with pure hatred. "You think this is over? I'll—"

Feras cut him off with a sharp, cold glare. "Aik hor lafz bolne ki jurrat na karin." His voice was a low growl, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Tune jo kiya hai na, tujhe aisi saza dunga teri 7 naslein yaad rakhen ghi." (Don't spout another word.) (If you do, I'll punish you in a way that even your next seven generations will remember. )

He signaled to his men, who grabbed Ibrahim roughly and dragged him out of the building. Feras didn't spare him another glance, his focus entirely on Anam.

Ayan, standing nearby, gave a shaky sigh of relief, his anger slowly dissipating as he watched Anam cling to Feras. "We should get out of here," he said, his voice steady but urgent.

Feras nodded, scooping Anam into his arms effortlessly. She didn't protest, her head resting against his chest as exhaustion overtook her. And she finally felt safe...

How's the story, too fast, too slow?