Hearts against the Storm

The SUV disappeared into the dust of the road before I could even take a step.

I stood there frozen, the world spinning around me. Alya had been crying. Her eyes had locked with mine. She wanted me to stop him. To save her. But I was too slow.

And Azeel… he was faster than I’d feared.

That night, I didn’t sleep. My thoughts were like flames, burning through every memory, every plan, every regret. My phone remained cold and silent. Alya’s number — off. Her social media — wiped clean. It was as if she had been erased.

But I knew better. Azeel hadn’t erased her. He had taken her.

I sat across from my mother that morning, her hands weak but her eyes sharp. She looked at me for a long moment.

“She’s gone, hasn’t she?” she asked softly.

I nodded.

My father overheard, stepping into the room with a quiet fury in his voice. “Maybe now, you’ll finally understand. That girl brought nothing but curse into our lives. Her bloodline is poison.”

“She is not her grandfather,” I said, my fists clenched. “And I’m not you.”

His hand slammed on the table. “Your uncle is dead, Taimoor. And the man who ordered it raised that girl. That’s all I need to know.”

“But I love her,” I said, my voice breaking for the first time in years. “She’s the only truth I’ve ever known.”

“Then bury that truth,” he snapped. “Before it buries you.”

I left home before dawn, not knowing if I would return.

My only hope was Hamza — my childhood friend, now a journalist, who dealt in the kind of truths people tried to bury. If anyone could help me track down Alya, it was him.

When I told him everything, his face darkened.

“Azeel’s been on my radar for months,” he said. “You’re not the first person he’s hurt. But he’s slippery, well-connected, and dangerous.”

He handed me a folder. Inside were photos, reports, maps. One location was circled: a large estate in the hills outside the city — privately owned, rarely visited, rumored to be a holding place for “problems” the Sherzai family didn’t want in public view.

“She’s there,” I whispered.

“You can’t storm in alone,” Hamza said. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “If she’s in there, I’m going in.”

That night, under a cloudy sky, I reached the edge of the compound on a borrowed motorbike. The roads turned from asphalt to gravel to dust, and the city lights vanished behind me.

The estate loomed like a forgotten ghost — a stone mansion, overgrown vines, a rusted gate, and eerie silence. There were no guards at the front, just a single lantern swinging in the wind.

I scaled the back wall, careful to avoid the rusted iron spikes. The grounds were quiet. Too quiet. I crept through shadows, the only sound my heart, hammering like it wanted to run before I could.

And then I saw the light — a faint glow in the second-floor window.

I moved toward it like a moth, knowing full well that the flame could kill me.

The vines on the side of the mansion were thick enough to climb. I gripped them with bloodied fingers and made my way up. As I neared the window, I saw her.

Alya.

She sat on a bed, her hair tangled, eyes hollow. But alive.

I tapped on the glass softly. Her head turned. Her eyes widened.

“Taimoor?” she whispered.

I pushed the window open. She flew into my arms, and for a moment, nothing existed but us.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered, tears on her cheeks.

“You’ll never lose me,” I said. “We’re leaving. Now.”

But as I turned, a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Going somewhere?”

Azeel.

He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, pistol in hand, eyes like stone.

I pushed Alya behind me.

“Still playing the hero, Taimoor?” he sneered. “She’s not yours to save.”

“She was never yours to keep,” I growled.

He raised the pistol.

I grabbed the nearest object — a brass candleholder — and threw it. The lights shattered. In the confusion, we ran.

Bullets cracked through the dark as we leapt down the last few steps and sprinted toward the back wall. I helped Alya climb over first. My foot slipped. A bullet grazed my shoulder.

Pain screamed, but I ignored it.

We made it over the wall, fell hard on the other side, and didn’t stop running until the estate was nothing but a memory behind us.

We reached Hamza’s apartment before sunrise. I was bleeding. Alya was shaking. But we were together.

“Did anyone follow you?” he asked as he bandaged my arm.

“No,” I said, wincing. “But Azeel won’t stop now.”

Alya took my hand, her voice steady.

“He’ll come after us. But I’m not running anymore.”

I looked into her eyes and nodded.

“Then let’s end this. Together.”