Nazli and Shahrazad are two girls living in a small village in the state of Gilgit-Baltistan, Pakistan. Asadullah along with his right-hand men Fahad and Imad has been sent on a mission to acquire the land that is owned by Shahrazad's father, Shah Zaman. For unknown reasons, despite gaining ownership of the land, Asadullah returns the land in exchange for marrying Shah Zaman's niece, Nazli. Shahrazad and Nazli are taken to a hotel in the main city, Gilgit where a mysterious hotel worker helps them to escape.

Four months later

The pale fresh cream moon captured Imad's attention as he stood under the star-studded midnight sky atop his cousin's lavish rooftop in Islamabad. It cast a silver aura on the vast grounds that were once used for Asadullah's recreational hobbies, but now laid abandoned. Perhaps this was a reflection of the state of his own heart - the depth and vastness of it that had never been fulfilled.

In the distance, a dog barked once, its sound rising into a mournful crescendo then disappearing with the wind. His heart shivered with the sound, but his body only clenched with worry that had become a frequent partner of his. Distance and time were mere fragments in his perception for they had done nothing to remove her from his heart. Instead, she had completely preoccupied his thoughts that sometimes he wasn't able to distinguish his priorities anymore.

When black entered his peripheral vision, Imad had a sudden urge to close his eyes and drift away from the figure. His cousin stood beside him, leaner than he remembered him, but onyx eyes glistening with a danger more so than before. And while Imad's attention was fixed on the land before him, it was not missed upon him the fact that his cousin had not looked away from him even as he lit a cigarette - a habit that he had picked up recently.

"Now I know why that old man smoked." Small talk - Asadullah's traditional technique to appear harmless. The smoke circles that were fanning across his pale face spoke a different story, however. Asadullah was aware that he despised cigarettes with a passion so much so that his own brother, Fahad had bared the brunt of his anger. Yet his entire demeanour was inviting or rather warning for an incoming conflict.

"Are you well, cousin?" The dripping concern in his baritone voice had Imad meet eyes with him. However, the cruel smirk that was etched on his face spoke volumes about his insincerity and for once Imad's own anger flared.

"Why do you ask?" It took so much effort to not spit those words in his face, but he wasn't able to stop his fists from clenching that rested on the railings of the roof. Asadullah, the keen-eyed mafia leader raised a perfect brow at it.

Almost as if the temperature had dropped a few degrees, so did any hint of playfulness in his cousin's eyes. They fixed on him, the lack of anything human in them reminded Imad of all the cold-blooded enemies they had once faced together. Yet now, it seemed that they were each other's enemy and the battle and its outcome had already been written in his cousin's favour.

"You tell me." Stillness for a few moments, and then he stood to his full height. Imad was still slightly taller, but his actual height did next to nothing to make him feel any more powerful right now. Walking a little along the roof as if to provide some fake respite, Asadullah blew the final smoke with the air and placed the used butt of his cigarette on the corner. "Remind me to pick this up before I leave."

But whether Imad would have the chance was suddenly in question when his cousin stalked fast in his direction and cold metal pressed against his neck.

"Why?"

The simple question was spoken with such tranquillity that had it been for anyone else they would have not taken him seriously. Yet Imad detected something else in his voice - pain. It was so slight that only a bond of many years like theirs could give away such a weakness.

"You wronged her." Imad knew his leader had a penchant for detecting lies and often times it would absolutely infuriate him that he would listen no more. Yet it wasn't the fear of death at his hands that prompted him to speak the truth, rather it was dying in a dishonourable manner. He wasn't a liar and like hell would he be known as one ever.

Wild rage overtook Asadullah and suddenly his finger was pressing dangerously tight on the trigger. His right-hand man, his constant companion, but above all his cousin-like brother had played the worst game with him. Whether it was the clenching of his chest or the slight lump in his throat, Asadullah was regretful about the pain that had come into his being. Someone who betrayed him did not deserve such an honour from him.

"I am forced to ask myself this question. Why does my subordinate . . ." The word was spoken in a degrading manner, but Imad had never cared for rankings to be bothered by the humiliation that Asadullah intended him to feel. " . . . care so much about my wife?" Imad wasn't sure if Asadullah had felt it, but his own jaw had tightened at hearing the emphasis. But more than that, he knew that his cousin had acquired full knowledge that Imad had feelings for the woman.

Suddenly anything that had mattered and all the explanations that he had planned out in his defence in the last four months died. But one thing that did remain was his undying loyalty to the man who had pulled him and his twin out of a never-ending black hole.

In perhaps the final act of bravado, he moved the pistol from his jugular vein to his forehead. In Asadullah's eyes, he detected a flicker of surprise that soon dissolved into a volcanic agony until nothingness emerged again. Fahad's words suddenly resonated in his mind from a time that felt eons ago. But you might be surprised that you and Asadullah are not so different after all. Like Asadullah, Imad longed to speak the words that he felt - words that would have been spoken from his heart to his cousin's. Yet, he said nothing of the sort. "I helped them escape, yes. But I stand before you - not as a coward or a liar, but as the man that you helped me become. So don't waste your time on me and just be done with it."

He had no qualms about the way he was going to die, but Imad longed to hear the Azaan one last time. But his sinking heart reminded him that criminals of his level were not deserving of receiving a death as blissful as that. A man who had only heard the Azaan, yet never responded back to it, had watched the mosque from far yet never entered it and had greeted all those around him with salaam and peace, yet only wreaked havoc on this land of Allah could only be fit for a disgraceful death.

"You harbor affections for her." The stillness was disrupted by a shock that crept back into his being after finally attaining the peace one has before one dies. He hadn't realized when his eyes had closed, but at the astute observation Asadullah made, Imad was forced to question whether his leader was simply guessing or had somehow picked on his feelings. Before he pondered further, his cousin stepped back - the cold metal leaving a small indent on his forehead before it disappeared in Asadullah's blazer.

Imad had his own questions and Asadullah was already beginning to walk away. "Why didn't you do it? I betrayed you."

The man stilled in his languid gait but turned around briefly so that the left profile of his face was visible. "If you had, I wouldn't have given you four months to keep breathing."

Fierce anger crossed his face and all restraints were shattered. "Then why ask now, Asad! Why wait four months for this fucking showdown?"

A cruel smile grazed his lips. "I was watching. Waiting. Planning. Watching for any signs that you were going to strike. Waiting for you to strike against me. And all along, I was always planning to give you a befitting response." He sighed suddenly, this time his eyes focusing on the blackness of the night. "Instead, I received nothing of that sort. Still, I waited and watched. I asked myself every day why you would . . . betray me. I expected some malice, some sign that you despised me and perhaps you do now." Since you love her.

He didn't have to say those words for they were understood by both of them. And perhaps it was best that they remained unsaid from this point on. "I may have done nothing that you deem to be a betrayal, but I stood silent before you when you asked about her whereabouts. My silence was my betrayal to you. Betrayal is only redeemable by death. You said this yourself."

"And why should I kill a man who is already dead?" Asadullah's long legs helped him to cover the distance between them in two swift seconds. "Your death is meaningless to me, Imad. You are more of some use to me when you stay alive and do your fucking job." The leader of the Black Panther Mafias evaded his subordinate - no, his cousin's eyes as they searched his face for some semblance of emotion. Asadullah couldn't let him know that . . . he could never kill him. Not because he was an excellent marksman or that his advice was invaluable, but because . . . he was family.

However, Asadullah was also a man of principle. Imad had acted on his own free will and had jeopardized Asadullah's long-standing trust that he held for him and his brother. Never had he thought that he would have to watch his back around these two as well as the rest of the world. But alas, they were all human and he couldn't help, but find his heart soft for them. But he would be damned if he let that become a fatal mistake on his part.

"You know where she is." It was a fact, yes. Asadullah had known all this time about their whereabouts. In fact, he had also been tracking them - keeping a watchful eye over them as they went about their business unaware. Nothing of importance especially his legally wedded wife could ever be missed by him, otherwise, he would not be fit to be the leader of the Black Panther Mafias.

"Then why didn't you bring her back? Why the fucking games, Asad!" Had it been for anyone else who had spoken to Asadullah the way his cousin here was, bullets would be flying. The leader of the Mafias couldn't help as a wry smile touched his face - he had become soft. Perhaps after he had met that village oaf.

Four months earlier

Fahad chuckled into his fist while sipping his bourbon as Asadullah's voice boomed from the other room. It seemed that the wildcat and her keeper had outsmarted his leader - something that no one had done for a long time. And all hell had broken loose on the poor hotel staff members. He cast a quick glance into the once busy street, but Asadullah had called a handful of mercenaries to begin scouting the city and so only a few confused bumpkins were standing around.

Still, he couldn't help, but wish that the hellcat had stayed around to try 'Micdoonalds'. A chuckle escaped him again as he remembered her hilariously outrageous mispronunciation of the word. Yet, a melodramatic sigh escaped him again at the sight of the McDonald's bag that sat on the table. All that trouble for nothing.

"Fahad." His younger brother, looking as if the world had crashed to an end stood before him. The dark circles on his eyes with the contrast of his pale skin indicated that an internal conflict was raging in his mind, but his placid eyes gave nothing away. His poor robotic brother.

You idiot. If only you had acted on time. If only . . . you had chosen your happiness over Asadullah's broken and diseased world. Fahad longed to say those words, but instead his face twisted in a diabolical smile before he spoke the words. "Told you."

"Enough. Asadullah wants us to-!"

"Wants us to use our magic fucking wand and fix all his problems. Yes, yes, I know. Two yokel farm girls playing a scavenger hunt with our oh-so-perfect leader. Pathetic." He interrupted, swinging his legs over the armchair to stand up. "Why all this fucking trouble? Just bring that old coot from the village and put an announcement out there that he is gonna be executed. You watch how quickly that wild cat comes running out like a kitten in tow with Bhabhi."

His twin cast a long glance at the door behind which Asadullah's voice reached another high octave. "He considered it, but Shah Zaman has sent word to the tribal folk about arming themselves."

A humorless snort escaped him. "Arming themselves with weapons that are probably on the brink of backfiring. I hate this expedition, bro and I fucking hate this bumpkin-infested, stupid place. The one person that was remotely interesting has also escaped."

Imad's eyes couldn't help, but widen in surprise at the almost despondent look on Fahad's face, but before questions could pour from his mouth about his brother's rather peculiar interest in the younger village girl, Asadullah stormed into the room.

He pushed his messy jet-black hair from his face and pulled his tie loose. "Do you know how much trouble this has caused me? Baba is expecting to inaugurate me as the leader of the Black Panther Mafias tomorrow and here I am wondering how my strong, capable men . . ." The sarcasm nor the emphasis was missed by the two brothers. " . . . could not keep an eye over two bumpkin girls!" The last part was loud enough to straighten Fahad from his slouching position and for Imad to mysteriously evade his leader's gaze.

"I can cover ground if I take the chopper." Imad muttered, but Asadullah said nothing except to give him a long soul searching stare.

"And I can-!"

Asadullah held up a hand. "No need. Both of you pack your bags and get moving. Go home."

Fahad spluttered with confusion. "What about the kitty- um . . . Bhabhi?"

A pleased smile touched his leader's face briefly - no doubt because of the word he had used. "It's a husband's responsibility to look out for his wife. I can't possibly hand over the task to . . ." Meeting eyes with Imad, he grinned impishly. " . . . my henchmen."

Imad knew his cousin was on to something and the emotions that he sensed from his brother told him that Fahad was aware of the sudden tension in the room too. Asadullah was unpredictable and reading him was no easy feat, but they had seen him at his best and his worst.

Still, concern for the girl made Imad speak again. "And your inauguration? Uncle would not be pleased if you were to miss it."

The smile dropped from his leader's face as quickly as the temperature seemed to in this place. "Leave the worrying for me, Imad. That old man now listens to me - I am the leader, after all."

With those parting words and a final empty gaze in Imad's direction, Asadullah fluidly exited the room. A whoosh of breath to his side suddenly dawned upon him with a realization. His betrayal to Asadullah had jeopardized not only his future, but also his brother's too. All for a woman that had no connection to him . . . so why had he gone so far to destroy everything that had protected them?

"He knows." His brother sounded irritated. "Why didn't you run off with her if you were going to do something so reckless, genius?"

And leave you to the wolves, Imad thought ruminatively. "I don't want her."

"Bullshit." With a sigh, his brother stalked towards their bags. "Well-fucking-done. You just went ahead and signed your death sentence. And mine too, it seems. Damn - I wanted to stay alive to see our cricket team win something this year. Guess not."

An amused grin couldn't help, but find itself to Imad's face. Their entire life was nothing, but a grim comedy, yet . . . his brother always had a concern for something mundane. But as he watched his brother leave the room, Imad made a promise in his heart. He would not let Asadullah harm him . . . and if he had to break all promises of loyalty with his cousin, then he would.

No one will ever get to you, Fahad. They'll have to go through me first.

***

A week had gone by and if his information was solid, Asadullah was sure that his little wife was holed up in a small cottage someplace in the woods. Strangely enough, upon hearing about her disappearance, he was surprised to have experienced grave concern for the two women rather than murderous anger. He was sure that they had not seen a day outside of their village and were indeed naïve enough to follow any wolf into the woods.

"Fares, your information best fucking be correct!" He pulled out his Colt handgun and clicked the safety off. He imagined her eyes widening as he would approach her with his weapon - and no doubt she would think he was here to end her. His little saali would run her mouth to negotiate and perhaps even fight him if necessary. An amused smile nearly worked its way on his lips and he fought hard to suppress it.

His intelligence officer who worked directly under Imad nodded his head. "Sir, two women were spotted in the CCTV footage leaving the hotel with a staff member. I have verified and checked all the calls that were made to the hotel staff. Only one number was encrypted which led me to believe that someone did not want their information known. And the encryption was unique - only to one person that I am aware of . . ."

"Imad." Vengeance had nearly overtaken Asadullah when he was talking to his cousin, no more like a weasel. At first, when Fares had come to him with such information, he had refused to believe it. Anyone could betray him - hell, even his own father could, but never Imad. Not him.

"If anyone finds out about Imad's involvement in this, Fares . . ." He removed his sunglasses to reveal empty onyx eyes that promised hell. ". . . well, let's just say your parents will certainly weep."

His subordinate nodded and retreated slightly. But in Fares' heart, he was sorely disappointed. He had thought that upon learning about Sir Imad's betrayal, Sir Asadullah would have disposed of him and promoted him as his right-hand man. It seemed, however that blood was thicker than water.

The sound of little laughter relieved Fares from his leader's penetrative gaze. Two women emerged from the cottage - satchels hung over their shoulders as they began their trek into the woods. The pale blond one spoke louder than the other girl and it was clear what they said.

"I told you, didn't I Nazli! No stupid Mafia man cares about people like us! Shireen* said that all the men had gone and that they only spent two days looking for us! Guess they realized that they are up against a force!"

Asadullah snorted. His saali was quite pompous and acutely unaware of her influence or rather lack thereof. But his eyes were fixated on the other girl who looked around cautiously. A twinge of guilt crept up his heart - there was no doubt about it - she still expected him to come crashing in her life and she wasn't wrong before nor was she wrong now. However, he felt some mercy for his newly wedded wife - she wasn't rebellious of nature and he knew that support from a silly starry-eyed girl and his own snake of a right hand man had prompted her to do this. Goddamn you Imad, Asadullah thought disdainfully.

"At least we get to go to school! I am so excited, Nazli! You will get speech therapy there as well! Oh-oh! I can't wait to find a real life Hasan and Inaaya!"*