The heat of Dubai's midday sun beat down relentlessly, casting long shadows across the dusty streets. Malick stood by the large, iron gates of the luxurious estate where Ali had once been confined. He wasn't the same man who had entered the world of Dubai's power-hungry elite. Time had carved away at his innocence, stripping him of his former self, until only a shell remained—an empty vessel molded by darkness.
His days now flowed like an unbroken tide of indulgence, wealth, and ruthlessness. Malick had become a man of the shadows. His face, once full of hope and dreams of a better life, was now hardened, set in a permanent grimace of cold calculation. His eyes—those eyes that had once seen the world with wonder—had turned steely and indifferent, watching as the world bent to his will. But it wasn't the world that had changed. It was him. He had adapted to this new existence, and he didn't just survive—it had become his dominion.
It had all started when he'd been sold, separated from Ali by the traffickers who'd captured them. Malick had been delivered to another sheikh, not one of the notorious criminals but a man of power in the political circles of Dubai. He had been placed in a lavish home, surrounded by decadence and luxury. Yet, despite the wealth, the isolation began to gnaw at him, eating away at his humanity. He had long since traded his naivety for a hardened resolve. In this world, weakness was a death sentence.
It wasn't long before Malick had been drawn into the web of crime that the sheikh ruled over. The sheikh's criminal empire extended far beyond the glittering towers of Dubai—it spanned continents, with tendrils of power infiltrating every dark corner of society. And Malick? He had become an instrument of that power, wielding it with a cold precision that would've horrified his younger self.
In his new world, emotions were liabilities. Sympathy? A weakness. Compassion? A joke. He had learned to silence the faint whispers of conscience, replacing them with a singular drive to climb higher, to claim more power. The man who had once dreamed of freedom now found himself the embodiment of the very darkness that had enslaved him.
Today, however, something felt different. Malick had been summoned to a meeting—a private affair with the sheikh. As he entered the lavishly appointed study, the scent of expensive leather and exotic perfumes filled the air. The sheikh, a man of middle age with silver-streaked hair, was seated behind a large mahogany desk. He looked up when Malick entered, his expression unreadable. The sheikh had long ago stopped treating Malick as a mere servant. Now, he was an extension of the sheikh's will—a trusted enforcer, the right hand in his criminal dealings.
"Malick," the sheikh's voice was smooth, almost too calm. "I trust you've been handling the new operations well?"
Malick gave a small, respectful nod, not bothering to speak. He had learned long ago that words were unnecessary when the power dynamics were clear. The sheikh smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair.
"You've proven your loyalty. You've done well in the past few months. But it's time for a new phase. You're going to handle something more… delicate."
Malick's heart beat once, then settled into its regular rhythm. He had long stopped being afraid of the sheikh's words. He was accustomed to the dangerous games the sheikh played, and he had learned to play them too.
"What's the task?" Malick asked, his voice low and steady.
The sheikh leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he spoke.
"There's a man," the sheikh said, his tone dropping to something darker. "A traitor. A man who thinks he can stand against me. His name is Karim—he's a former associate who has decided to align with those who would see my empire fall."
Malick's expression remained unchanged, but inside, a spark of curiosity ignited. He knew how dangerous it was to cross the sheikh, but he also knew that betraying one of the sheikh's associates was an offense that warranted immediate retribution. The sheikh's enemies didn't last long.
"I want you to bring him to me," the sheikh continued. "Alive, of course. I want him to see what happens to those who think they can betray me."
Malick's eyes flickered briefly, and the sheikh smiled, as though reading his thoughts. The sheikh knew that Malick wasn't a mere thug. He was the kind of man who understood the delicate dance of power, a man who could extract information, manipulate situations, and eliminate threats without leaving a trace. Malick had become an indispensable tool in the sheikh's arsenal.
"Of course," Malick said, his voice a mere whisper of compliance. He had already decided how he would deal with Karim. It wasn't a difficult task—Karim would break under pressure. Malick was good at making people talk.
The sheikh gestured toward the door, signaling the end of the conversation. "See that it's done quickly, Malick."
As Malick turned to leave, the sheikh's voice stopped him.
"Remember, Malick, you're one of my most trusted. Don't disappoint me."
Malick nodded silently, and without another word, he walked out of the study, the weight of the sheikh's expectations hanging heavily on his shoulders. The task ahead was simple enough, but it had a deeper meaning. It wasn't just about bringing Karim to heel—it was about reminding Malick of his place in this world. He had come a long way from the hopeful young man who had arrived in Dubai with dreams of a better life. Now, he was a man who dealt in shadows, who crushed those who stood in the way of power.
---
Later that night, Malick sat in his private apartment, the city lights of Dubai flickering in the distance. The task loomed over him, but what weighed on him even more was the thought of Ali. It had been months since he had last seen his old friend, and their lives had diverged so completely that the memory of their bond seemed like a lifetime ago.
Malick couldn't help but wonder about Ali—what had become of him? Had he stayed true to his principles, or had he succumbed to the darkness in the same way that Malick had? Part of him still held on to a shred of hope that Ali had remained the same, that the boy who had once dreamed of a better life was still somewhere inside the man who had been sold into servitude.
Malick shook his head. Hope was a luxury he could no longer afford. He had abandoned that naive part of himself long ago. Now, the only thing that mattered was survival. His survival.
---
The next day, Malick tracked down Karim. It hadn't taken long. Karim was a small-time crook who thought he could play both sides. Malick had already learned all he needed to know about him. The man had betrayed the sheikh, and now, it was time to pay the price.
He found Karim holed up in a rundown apartment in one of Dubai's poorer districts. The stench of sweat and desperation filled the air as Malick approached the door. He knocked twice, then paused. The response from inside was immediate—a muffled shout of fear, followed by the sound of scrambling feet.
"Karim," Malick called, his voice low and dangerous. "It's time to face the consequences."
There was a long pause, and then the door creaked open, revealing Karim's frightened face. The man looked nothing like the person Malick had once known. He was gaunt, trembling, his eyes wide with panic.
"Malick!" Karim gasped, his voice breaking. "What… what do you want?"
Malick's lips curled into a cruel smile.
"You're going to pay for your betrayal," he said coldly. "And you'll do it the hard way."
---
In that moment, Malick realized the full weight of his transformation. He was no longer the man who had once dreamt of freedom. He was something else now—a creature of the dark, a man whose identity had been completely reshaped by the choices he had made. The old Malick had died the moment he had abandoned his morality. What stood before Karim now was a man who would do anything to maintain his place in the world he had chosen.
As the door slammed shut behind him, Malick's heart beat slowly, purposefully. There was no turning back now. His new identity had been forged, and there would be no room for regrets. Only forward, through the darkness.