His penetrating gaze flickered from the dark and deserted road in front of him, to the rearview mirror of his stationary open jeep. The finger of his left hand continued its tapping on the steering wheel without missing a beat, until he finally allowed himself to blink and return his indifferent gaze to the road straight ahead. Only a moment later, he had leisurely reached down to his left ankle and pulled out the handgun stuffed inside his sock.

Straightening up, Umar allowed his gaze to wander towards his side mirror momentarily; only waiting for a moments' breath before speaking out into the cold darkness, which coincidentally complemented the iciness of his tone.

"Why don't you come out of your rathole already?" Umar remarked lazily; throwing an impassive glance at his side mirror.

It took a few moments for the person in question to display some movements and affirm his presence. Until this moment, he'd tried his best to remain hidden in the bushes but couldn't manage to escape Umar Gillani's hawk like gaze.

An obvious flicker of disgust flashed behind Umar's deep onyx orbs, when Khizer stepped out of the shadows after long trepidation; coming to stand right behind Umar's jeep. A revolt filled scoff escaped Umar's lips at his sight, before he swung his long legs out of the jeep; stuffing his gun behind him.

Taking a few measured steps, he came to stand right infront of the IB officer, whose face was ashen with dread at being caught so unexpectedly. The dread and fear was smeared all over his face. Umar could easily discern the wheels turning in Khizer's brain, as he wondered how long had his identity been leaked.

"Don't you feel pathetic though? You only had one job. Yet, you people always manage to beat everyone's minimal expectations of you."

A sardonic and coldblooded mask overcame Umar's features, as the veil of kindness and love he wore for Fajer slipped off; giving way to his true face and unforgiving, ruthless identity.

Khizer unconsciously gulped as Umar began to close the distance to him and without even thinking Khizer had pulled out his gun from inside his jacket; aiming it right at Umar's chest.

"Don't come any closer—Or I'll make you regret it!" Even after trying his best, Khizer couldn't stop his voice from shaking and the only response he could manage to garner out of the coldblooded and unfeeling monster standing infront of him was a bored and blank look, which was followed shortly by an exhausted sigh. As if Umar was starting to get tired of a child's playful antics.

"We both know all too well....who here is going to be regretful..." Umar drawled in a low and grave voice with a slight tilt of head, pausing only for a split second before he had pulled out his gun from behind him and fired right at Khizer's hand holding the gun.

The sound of gunshot was instantly drowned out by a sharp and bloodcurdling scream ringing through the hills of Kashmir and breaking its quiet.

Khizer who was now curled over himself on the dusty ground, was crying out in pain while holding onto his shattered wrist. He made an exhausting effort to reach for his gun dropped a feet from him; but before he could, his gaze had unconsciously wandered up towards Umar, and in an instant he forgot to breathe. For the man looking down at him without a trace of emotion in his dark blazing orbs was no short of devil in a human's skin. Instinctively, a sharp paralysing shiver ran down Khizer's spine and he all but forgot about his abandoned gun.

Umar watched the ashen look on Khizer's face with a bored and disinterested gaze. Slowly, he tore his gaze from the IB officer's writhing and groaning figure and shifted it towards Khizer's gun. With a flick of his foot, Umar kicked the gun out of Khizer's reach and then came down to squat next to him. For a moment, Umar silently let his merciless gaze wander across Khizer's face and then slowly, he began.

"You shouldn't have pulled my wife into this—" His voice was low and entwined with mock remorse, as he reached out a hand to Khizer's neck who flinched before contact. A cruel smirk flashed across Umar's features, as he gently brushed off the dust from Khizer's jacket, who was realising a little too late that he had bought a one way ticket to hell for himself.

"Now, you are going to pay for it." Umar ended without the slightest hint of mercy and  paused to meet Khizer's nervous gaze with his unfeeling one.

"You---You can't get away with doing this to an--IB officer--" Khizer made one last attempt at escape, breathing through sharp painful gasps.

"Are you sure?" Umar tipped his head. His cold and unforgiving gaze boring holes into Khizer's existence. Even though Faisal Durrani was the criminal mastermind; yet his presence wasn't capable of instilling such terror in people as one piercing glare of Umar's did; enough to render his opponents paralysed with fear.

"If only you and your corrupted and rotting system were so competent, then you wouldn't be in this state—" Umar's voice was low and barren of any emotions, or mercy. Khizer's mouth fell open at the truth laced in Umar's accusation, but he was rendered speechless by the anger simmering behind those stony onyx orbs.

"Sahab--Gillani sahab--Forgive me---I have committed a huge crime--Nay--A grave sin---Please--have mercy--" Khizer hiccupped and clasped together his shaky bloody hands, making an effort to lean forward and begging for Umar's forgiveness.

Umar didn't so much as stir, for he had already anticipated what was going to happen next. Only a moment later Khizer had snatched the gun from Umar's hand and taken a shot at his arm, but missed. Before Khizer could fire another bullet, a sharp punch was delivered right across his jaw, followed by another and another, until Khizer's face had become an unrecognizable mess of blood and gore.

Umar kept bashing in his face even moments after Khizer had passed out. He only stopped when he had heard familiar footsteps coming to stand behind him. With a final huff, Umar let go off his hold on Khizer's neck and let his lifeless body fall to the ground with a thud.

"What's the update?" Umar stood up with his gun in hand and inquired without turning back.

"The safehouse is ready. And preparations for your departure too." Buzdaar remarked in a blank tone, standing behind Umar and holding out a napkin for him, who had yet to turn to face him.

The bottomless pit of abyss in his onyx orbs wavered for only a moment and a flicker of warmth took its place, as Umar's gaze finally wandered towards his jeep. More rightly towards the quiet and sleeping figure on his passenger seat.

It had taken Umar a while. But he had found out why Fajer had suddenly returned out of the blue. Since she left for the US, Umar had been secretly keeping tabs on her every activity. Yet, he had missed out on Khizer's secret meeting with Fajer. It wasn't until Fajer went to meet Khizer at the market, did Buzdar decipher the Morse code Fajer had used through tapping, which Khizer had responded through blinking. Buzdar was Umar's personal bodyguard not for just any reason. He was a trained professional and the best in his field. Hence, chosen to guard Fajer.

Buzdar had deciphered the secret conversation between the two and informed Umar. Unexpectedly, Umar felt no surprise at the revelation. On the contrary it made absolute sense to him that Fajer had returned for him. Just as she had left to protect him. Yet, Umar had kept it a secret and pretended to be oblivious.

Like everything else that formed a part of Umar's operation, luring Khizer out today was also a small part of it. He had used the burner phone Khizer sent to Fajer and asked him to meet her here. And as per Umar's predictions, Khizer had taken the bait.

Durrani hadn't reached this far on his own. He had made used of every system at his disposal and the IB agency was no different.  Umar knew that like every other agency, this system too was corrupted to the core, working at Durrani's beck and call. Otherwise, with all the evidence they had buried, Durrani could have had been behind bars decades ago. And so many innocent lives could've been spared.

Releasing a soft sigh, Umar tore his gaze from Fajer and took the napkin Buzdar offered. Wiping off the blood smeared on his hands, Umar crossed the distance to Fajer, who was still out cold from the effect of drug. Carefully, he leaned towards her and adjusted the position of her head on the headrest. Watching  her quiet and peaceful figure, Umar reached out his had to softly graze her cheeks with the back of his fingers. The realisation hitting him that he was tainting her pure and innocent existence with his blood tainted hands, but it was far too late now to back out. For both of them.

It took him some effort, but he'd managed to tear off his gaze from Fajer. Taking out his phone, he dialed Imran's number.

"Sir, all units are in position." Imran informed him and Umar ended the call without saying another word. Instead, turned his gaze to the love of his life and the center of his existence.

It was finally time to end this war raging for decades. For Umar Farooq Gillani had never entered a battle except to win.

*****************************

The loud Sindhi music was blaring through the woofers at a regular festive night in one of Durrani's farmhouses, which was situated in a shady and rundown part of the city; reserved specifically for guests of lesser prestige.

The lawn of the farmhouse which was spread over acres was lit with lights, music, alcohol and enticing show-girls who were performing Mujra's on selected songs for their spectators. Most reclining on Charpai; whereas some would occasionally get up to dance with the ladies, or shower them with crisp notes in ecstasy.

One such spectator amongst them was Bismil, who was dancing on his own, to the rhythm of music. His eyes closed shut, as he held onto the alcohol bottle with one hand, whilst simultaneously swaying to the beats of music. The Ajrak shawl hanging loose from his neck, was paired with his Sindhi cap and plain white shalwar kameez. Time after time, he would hold up the ends of his shawl and sway it to the rhythm of music. It wasn't until one of the dancer had come over to dance with him, that his trance was brutally interrupted.

With a snap, Bismil's eyes opened, as he felt unfamiliar hands wrapped around his torso. A grim expression overtook his features and in a split second he had smashed the glass bottle on the woman's hand, making her head split open with the impact.

A loud scream echoed through the compound which was soon mixed in with the other dancer's. The music was still going on without stopping, even if everyone else had stopped dancing. The men in Bismil's company were already aware of his murderous streak, hence they weren't too fazed. Only for a moment, a hush fell across the lawn, which was immediately shattered by Bismil's announcement.

"Drinks on me!!" A series of cheer roared in unison and the party was back on track. One of the worker had come in to drag away the deadbody and dispose it off. The music resumed and so did the celebration, which was taking place shortly after Bismil had pushed his lover to her untimely death.

It had scarcely been a few moments of merriment, when the sound of gunshot spliced through the intoxicating air, gaining screams from the fairer sex and creating a frenzy amongst the rest, who began to gather their belongings and make a run for their lives.

And even in the midst of all this chaos, one man continued to dance to the tune of music. His existence undisturbed by all the mayhem going on around him.

His head flicking from side to side, in tune with the beats of music. As the beat got faster, the swinging of his head too became brisker. His torso grooving to the music, with hands raised above his shoulders; slowly twisting in a dance move. The tapping of his feet and swaying of hips continued unfazed as he skipped to the Sindhi music playing on loud woofers and echoing through the deserted and out-of-bound territory in an infamous region of Karachi.

"Bismil." A loud and callous, but familiar voice roared against his ears and for the barest moment, Bismil's feet halted midsteps. Only a moment later, his bloodshot and intoxicated eyes snapped open and locked at his old enemy. Iqbal.

For only the smallest fraction of a minute, did Bismil allow his gaze to remain locked at his earliest nemesis—before his feet began to stir yet again. A sardonic and inhumane smile stretching across his lips, as he resumed his prance without once tearing his gaze off of Iqbal. His one hand reaching up behind his ear as if he was trying to hear out for the music. Whereas his eyes widened and head continued to shake to the rhythm. His lips parting in an expression of awe, as if he was beckoning Iqbal to join him in the fun.

However, as usual, his nemesis wasn't the one to put up with his Master's poor excuse of a bastard child.

The next moment a gun he had lifted up to the DJ was fired without any warning. Luckily the DJ had ducked just in time. But the woofer system was blown up after a series of gunshots.

This had finally managed to put an end to Bismil's night of celebration, who fixated his steely and bloodthirsty gaze onto his so-called father's right hand. Running his tongue on the inside of his lower lip, Bismil took a few shaky steps towards Iqbal.

"You know..There's a saying....by my favorite actor..." Bismil began in a small and curious voice. But failed to garner a hint of emotion from Iqbal.

"That if you long for something very very desperately, then the whole universe begins to conspire for you to meet it. And until that happens—the film isn't over yet my friend." He ended with a throaty chuckle, which quickly and unexpectedly turned into fits of laughter.

Iqbal watched Bismil bent over himself, with a bored and disinterested gaze. If it wasn't for his Master's commands, he would never engage with this filthy swine, as Iqbal liked to call him.

With a flick over his shoulder, Iqbal ordered his men to take away this rotten excuse of a human. But before his men could oblige, Bismil had lunged towards Iqbal in an unforeseen attack. His favorite pliers pressing hard against Iqbal's neck and piercing his flesh without any caution.

"I live for the day....when I'll rip you apart...Starting from your throat..and diving deeper and deeper..until I had pull out all your guts with my bare hands...! Until at long last...the grim reaper begins to feel mercy for your disgusting and pathetic, waste of a soul and snatches you from my starved clutches." Bismil voiced through clenched teeth, a wild and barbaric look floating in his gaze, unlike Iqbal had ever seen before. A look of sheer pleasure etched in his orbs; whilst he traced his tongue along his lower lip as if the mere thought of it had taken him to heights of ecstasy. And it that moment Iqbal realized for sure, that his end might well have been written by Bismil's tainted hands.

Assalamualaikum wa rehmatullahi wa barakatuhu everyone!! Hope you all are doing well?☺️❤️
Sincerest apologies for the delay🥲Was caught up in exams and other stuff. Hope you like the update InshaAllah 🥰