Chereads / Mafia Captured / Chapter 3 - 3. The Arsalan Gambit

Chapter 3 - 3. The Arsalan Gambit

As soon as the enemy leader saw his chance, he fled. No one even attempted to catch him. Perhaps everyone's attention was on Ezal.

Karim looked up at the cliff. It was very deep. If he had fallen from here, there was no way he could have survived. For a moment, he froze. His breath caught in his throat. When he came to his senses, he didn't know how he had managed to regain his composure and ordered his men,

"Go down and find him."

As soon as his men heard the order, they immediately started down the cliff. And he stood there, just looking down. It was impossible to survive a fall from such a high cliff.

"Ezel is dead. What will happen now?" Karim heard a voice from his right side. He turned his head to the right. The voice was that of his right-hand man, Joseph.

"How can you say that? We don't know yet. Maybe he's alive," Karim said hopefully.

"Karim, he was shot in the chest and he fell from that height. If we hadn't seen him fall with our own eyes, we could still say that there's a chance Ezel could still be alive."

Joseph's words were harsh, but they were true. It would be an impossible feat for Arsalan Ansari to survive a fall from such a high cliff.

Karim's eyes welled up with tears. He fell to his knees and began to weep bitterly.

Arsalan was not just his friend, he was his brother and his family. Today, Karim was once again an orphan. His family was gone.

The sky, which was covered in dark clouds, seemed to be crying along with him. His men stood there, they too were in a state of shock and grief. There was an eerie silence. Everyone standing there had lost their leader. The shock was great. The grief was even greater.

Only the sound of the thunder could be heard and Karim's sobs. 

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Sahira was still screaming. She was crying uncontrollably. Johra was trying to comfort her sobbing sister.

Her own condition was no better. The whole house was burning down. Black smoke was billowing out of it. The fire seemed like a monstrous beast, engulfing the house in its deadly embrace.

Sahira felt like she was going to die. She had once seen her child die in her arms. And now she was seeing another child burning in the fire. Was this also a punishment for Arsalan Ansari's sins?

No, this was Sahira Hamid's test. But she couldn't understand that.

"Allah... Allah..." Sahira began to cry out to Allah. All around them, the heartbreaking screams of a mother filled the air.

"Sahira, no. You calm down. Please."

Jahra didn't know how to comfort her sister. What could she say to her? What could she say to a mother whose child was burning to death before her eyes?

"Mama!!!"

Both sisters heard the cry, and Sahira's heart pounded in her chest. She pulled away from Johra and followed the sound, her eyes scanning the flames. There, in the midst of the inferno, a shadow appeared. Slowly, the shadow became clear and she saw her youngest son, Arhal.

He was in the arms of a man, crying hysterically. Sahira ran towards them, and as she got closer, Arhal struggled to reach out to her.

The young man put Arhal down and he ran to his mother. Sahira fell to her knees and hugged her son.She couldn't help but kiss his face over and over again.

The verse from Surah Ar-Rahman came to her mind:

"Which of the favors of your Lord will you deny?"

Holding her son close, she couldn't help but cry. Yes, what favors of her Lord could she deny? Today, once again, Allah Ta'Ala had shown her another of his favors. He had brought her son back to her safe and sound.

Sahira was still crying, but the tears were not of sorrow, but of gratitude. She was grateful to her Lord.

Drops of Allah's mercy began to fall from the sky. They all stood there, getting drenched in that mercy.

"My child, are you alright?" Sahira asked, checking his body. She didn't want him to be injured. His face and clothes were covered in soot. But he was not injured.

Sahira thanked Allah Ta'Ala once again.

"Mama..." Arhal was crying. He was scared.

"No, my child. Don't cry. You are my brave child. So why are you crying?"

"Mama... I was alone. There was no one there. You weren't there either. I was scared..." Arhal explained in broken words, and Sahira hugged him tightly. "You were not alone. My son, haven't I told you that Allah is always with us? He is even closer to us than our jugular vein."

"But I was still very scared, Mama."

"Everything is fine now, my child. Don't cry anymore."

Everyone standing there was watching this heartbreaking scene with bated breath.

 The gentle drizzle morphed into a downpour.

Seeing Arhal, Arhab and Arhan also came to their mother. Then Jahra also came to them with Ibrahim.

The fire was still burning, but the worst was over. Sahira and her children were safe. They had lost everything in the fire, but they had each other. And that was all that mattered.

"Your son is perfectly fine. He's also very smart. He chose a very safe place to hide from the fire."

Sahira looked at him with grateful eyes. He was a handsome young man of about 25-26 years old. He had some injuries on his arms and legs.

"Boss, you're hurt," the young man's aide said worriedly, approaching him.

"It's nothing," the young man replied.

"Thank you. You saved my son's life. May Allah reward you abundantly."

"I didn't do anything. So there's no need to thank me. Your husband saved my life once, and today I saved your family's life. Now we're even. Get in the car, it will take you all to a safe place."

He said that and took out his phone from his pocket and started making a call.

Sahira and Johra nodded and got into the car after listening to his words. They were accompanied by two guards for their protection.

Elias' guards took a medical box out of his car and started bandaging his arms and legs.

"Yes, I have delivered his wife and children safely. Now we're even. But I was very surprised to know that he has 4 sons. And they're very cute too. I've decided I'll have 5 sons. After all, I always have to be one step ahead of him."

Elias said that and laughed. His green eyes sparkled like emeralds. His cheeks also had cute dimples.

He talked on the phone for some more time and then hung up. By then, his wounds were dressed too.

Just then, his phone rang again.

When he picked up the phone, the dimples on his cheeks disappeared. His forehead was wrinkled. His face turned dark.

"How can this be? How can Ezel be dead?" he asked. The question was absurd. Does death ever come to anyone after informing them?

But people often forget or ignore this fact.

"Yes, I'm coming now," he said and got into his car.

As the car sped away, Sahira couldn't help but wonder about the man who had saved her son's life. Who was he? And what was his connection to her husband?

She knew that she would never find out the answers to those questions. But she was grateful to him nonetheless. He had saved her son's life, and that was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, Elias was driving as fast as he could. His mind was racing with thoughts of Ezel. He couldn't believe that his friend was gone. Ezel was gone.

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Sahira leaned her head against the car window, her heart heavy with worry. Arhal lay asleep in her lap, his head nestled against her chest. Beside her sat Arhan and Arhab, their small bodies curled up in sleep. Zohra sat opposite her, Ibrahim nestled in her lap. Sahira gently ran her fingers through Arhal's hair, her gaze shifting to Arhan and Arhab. She reached out and brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen over their faces. Of all the children, only Ibrahim was awake, his eyes gazing out the window beside him.

The other three children slept soundly, their faces pale and drawn from the emotional exhaustion of the day. Sahira's heart was still at unease. She longed to hold Arham close. 

A wave of fear washed over her, a fear that had become a constant companion since the fateful day she had married Arsalan. Every moment of her existence was now a battle against regret, a bitter reminder of the grave mistake she had made. She closed her eyes, tears welling up behind her lids. A wave of self-pity washed over her, her heart aching for the life she had lost, the life she had once dreamed of.

How could she protect herself and her children from Arsalan's dark influence? What could she do to make him leave them alone?

"I wish you would just disappear, Arsalan," she whispered to herself, her voice laced with bitterness. "If you were gone, then maybe I and my children could finally be free."

Little did she know that her wish was about to be granted, in a way she could never have imagined.

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He stood by the window of his glass penthouse in New York City, his gaze lost in the shimmering lights of the metropolis below. Life felt like a heavy burden, a weight he carried with every breath. His love, the very essence of his existence, had been snatched away, leaving him in a perpetual state of mourning.

A faint sound of footsteps echoed through the spacious room, but he remained motionless, his eyes still fixed on the vibrant cityscape.

"Why didn't you attend the reunion party?" his father's voice broke the silence, his footsteps coming to a halt behind him.

"What's the point? She won't be there," he replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Are you going to spend your entire life chasing a ghost?" his father asked, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

"Chasing a ghost? I'm doing everything I should be doing. I'm a successful businessman, making money," he retorted, turning around to face his father. His damp hair clung to his forehead, a sign of a recent shower. His blue eyes held a steely glint, his voice cold and detached.

"You've destroyed yourself," his father countered, his voice calm and steady. "She took everything from you."

" She took nothing from me." he answered and took two steps forward, closing the distance between him and his father. "Why did you do it? Why did you kill her? What did you gain from it?" he demanded. He ran his fingers through his hair, his frustration evident.

His father remained unfazed, his expression unreadable.

"She's alive," his father declared, his voice cutting through the room like a knife.

The son stared at his father, disbelief etched on his face.

"The woman you've mourned for four years, she's alive."

"Is it true, Dad?" he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and disbelief. He clutched his father's arm, his anxiety palpable. "Are you telling the truth, Dad? If she's alive, why haven't you brought her to me?"

It didn't matter to him when or how she had survived. All that mattered was that she was alive.

"She'll come to you," his father replied, his tone laced with a hint of mystery. "But..."

"But what, Dad?" the son pressed, his voice laced with urgency.

"But you'll have to take Ezel's place."

"Ezel's place? But how?"

"Don't worry about that. Just prepare yourself for a new identity. Because you'll have to lose yours. You'll have to become Arsalan Ansari."

A sinister smile played on his father's lips.

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