Entering into the plush white mansion, Asadullah pushed down the emerging wave of restlessness that had overtaken him during his journey back home. As he had watched the green pine trees and valleys morph into industrialized highways and tall skyscrapers, he had wondered why Islamabad - his home city would look so foreign. Fahad had gleefully chatted his way with a dozing and beaten Khalid while Imad had silently driven them back.

And now he was home - as if he had never left in the first place. Home . . . the word felt wrong now with the absence of his late mother and the presence of Sikandar Khan's new wife. This was the first time he had entered this mansion without hearing the joyful cries of his mother as she would welcome him. Back then, he would find the ritual bothersome - annoyed at his mother for coddling him in front of his companions and brothers. Now . . . he would give the world and beyond for that one second of joy.

"Asad, my boy!" His father, a well dressed man with height and looks to match appeared from the grand living room. A stench of cigarettes and alcohol exploded in Asadullah's nostrils and he fought hard to not cringe at the smell as his father wrapped him in a cold embrace. His mother too hated the smell.

"My eyes have been sore in hopes of seeing you, my lion!" He cackled, casting a non-plussed glance at Fahad and Imad. "Oh? Your companions are still here? Why - I thought you two would be rushing home to your grieving father. It is not often a woman runs from her husband, eh?"

The twins simultaneously clenched their jaws and fists. Sikandar Khan was the older brother of their father and he had been the one to arrange the cursed alliance between their two parents. But like Asadullah's father, their father too was vile and disgusting. On a more mortal level . . .

Fahad grinned, a rebellious gleam in his brown eyes. "Why, uncle! I thought you would do the same! I thought you would be rushing to the car outside! It is not often one has such a retard of a son who nearly gets himself killed three times!"

Asadullah's face tightened with worry. "Enough. You two may leave - I will call for you when I am in need."

But his father was having none of that. He slammed the glass of whiskey on the table so loud that the butler came rushing out - his face white and pinched. "What the fuck did you say, boy? Are you talking about my Khalid?"

"Baba I-!"

"Quiet, Asad! I am speaking to this cousin of yours. Now, just who were you talking about, Fahad?" Imad and Asadullah did not miss the enormous emphasis he made on their companion's name. This was not going to end good - Sikandar Khan had a fluctuating temper, but it had spiralled out of control before which had led to the death of Asadullah's older brother. His mind swirled back to the memory of his kind, fun-loving sibling. Saleem.

"Yes, I was talking about Khalid, uncle!" Fahad knew he had pushed it when a violent spark entered the man's depthless eyes. Asadullah had warned them both several times to hold their mouths in front of Sikandar Khan, but today the mention of his eloped mother had burned a furious streak in him.

Sikandar suddenly chuckled, his fair cheeks blossoming with red. The laughter - while seemingly so genuine and lighthearted was a clever trick he had used before he would snap out his gun and shoot people dead. It was a sick pleasure of his and they had witnessed it all too well.

This time however, Fahad had escaped death. "Send my kindest regards to your father." He said simply, gesturing them to leave. Imad nudged his brother to walk - finding himself on edge for turning his back on this man. "Oh . . . and Fahad!"

"Yes, uncle?" He turned slowly half expecting a gun to be aimed at him when he met eyes with him. Instead, the man only glared at him through his smile - a strange expression that made him want to leave quickly.

"Your father is already grieving for his beloved wife. I am sure you wouldn't want him to be grieving for a lost son too. That would be quite . . ." He paused dramatically, touching his thin greying beard. " . . .painful." A sinister chill swept in the room as he dropped the facade of happiness and let his true emotions reveal themselves. And what they all saw in his gaze was the sight of a monster. Devoid of all emotions - a heartless mafia leader who had great influence in prospering and destroying lives.

Finally after the departure of Imad and Fahad and the shifting of Khalid to a hospital, a silently enraged Sikandar Khan sat opposite his son. "Khalid has certainly seen better days." He remarked, sipping his branded coffee in the expensive china set that his mother absolutely cherished. Asadullah narrowed his eyes at the sight - despising his father for having the audacity to make use of his mother's things while shamelessly siring sons from another woman.

"So has your bank account, Baba." He hissed, swiping his hand in the air to refuse the maid who trembled with a cup of coffee. "Khalid's stupidity cost us the land three times its original price. Not to mention, I had to spend a fortune on replacing their sheeps and horses."

"Should have just killed them." The man said casually, languidly licking his lips. Then he connected hard onyx orbs with his son's identical ones. "Business acumen is all I seek in my heir, Asad. Even if I try to find the best excuses for this botched deal you made with that old coot, I cannot!"

Asadullah bristled. "You are pinning this whole thing on me? Seriously, Baba! You talk of business acumen, but where is your rationality? Khalid is the reason I had to make this 'botched deal' in the first place!"

When his voice echoed in the drawing room, the servants knew that this was their signal to leave. Sikandar Khan unfolded his legs and then practically chucked the cup and saucer on the table. And as the cutlery rattled, so did Asadullah's nerves.

"Know your place, Asad." Sikandar taunted. "You are sitting before the leader of the Black Panther Mafias. I have overlooked a lot of things - had anyone else dared to do what you did with Khalid, I would have personally dug out a grave for him. Yet, I think some discipline was needed and you provided it. Yet, if we sit and analyze your flaws, I will certainly need a lot of time!"

The potential heir to the business breathed deeply - a lame attempt to not kill his father already. Saleem and his mother were dead because of him. That should have been a good enough reason to kill this vile man, yet Asadullah knew that he would be up against his own brothers and the half-siblings. Already he had dealt with countless failed assassination attempts. Lots of people wanted him dead - yet . . . here he was alive.

"However, you were successful in acquiring that land from those pitiful bumpkins! For that reason alone, I cannot deny you the position you are quite deserving of." A small smile touched his lips - materialistic and cunning. "I would like you to be the new leader of the Black Panther Mafias. However . . . you must find a wife soon and sire some sons of your own."

Relief and elation bloomed in his tightened chest. He had worked tirelessly in the last few years to outshine amongst his brothers for this position. Today, he had obtained it. Power was only a few steps away now - the power to set things right. To lead his family back to where they had been toppled from. His father and his new wife and children had a lot to pay for.

"I see you are already planning some great things!" Sikandar beamed, rising from the loveseat and walking towards the door. "You were always the imaginative one, Asad. Once upon a time, I thought it was a flaw. I would like to see it as your strength, my boy."

Oh, you will, dear father. Asadullah thought sadistically. The reign of the Pharaoh was soon coming to its end. Now . . . justice would prevail.

"Like I said, find yourself a nice woman or two. Or . . . four. One is never enough." He chuckled leaving a distasteful taste in his son's mouth. Asadullah did not bother to hide it - nor did he even try to conceal the brimming hatred in his heart for this cesspit of waste. By Allah, how hard he had tried to play the loving and doting son act and now finally he could drop it. Just a few more days . . . Asad.

"Anyone on your mind?" Asadullah turned to the door, surprised to see him standing there still. "You look as if something . . . or rather someone has occupied your mind."

No, I am only wondering on the different ways to kill you, he thought. But suddenly at the mention of wives and women, the buried images of forest green eyes came back to haunt him again. Damn it all - he had been fighting a different kind of battle. The smile, the fear, the eyes - the revelation of her eternal silence . . . it was all too well etched on his mind. One thing stood out to him - the callous words spoken by Shah Zaman. Her honor - lost. Ostracized. Forgotten. Like . . . I once was.

"Well! Don't ponder too long on a woman though. There are many fishes in the pond!" With those final words, his father was leaving for the night. But Asadullah's heart and conviction had been set in reverie.

The wife of the leader of the Black Panther Mafias should be strong like steel, soft like snow, kind like a mother, firm like a warrior and self assured in the face of death. He chuckled as he mentally crossed off all the characteristics that made the cowardly green eyed girl inept for the job. She just didn't have it within her - she was truly fit to be a farmer's wife, quiet and docile and away from all the evil that went around her.

Yet, Asadullah's cold heart warmed at the self-spurned image of a blonde, green eyed girl smiling at him from beside his side. She would most definitely be kind like a mother - kind like his mother. And he remembered the fierceness from her when she had struggled with Khalid and Fahad to protect her morals. Maybe she could be firm like a warrior too when push came to shove.

His father would certainly not approve - preferring to strip him off his position than to accept a villager as his daughter-in-law. And as the head wife of the household. Sikandar Khan would bring any and every other kind of woman in the world to sway Asadullah from making a villager his wife.

But Asadullah no longer wanted any other woman.

He wanted the green eyed girl with golden hair. And he would play his cards right to make sure nothing and no one stood in his way.