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Mafia Captured (4): The Start of a Forbidden love
#romance #thriller #heartbreak
It was a study room, a haven of tasteful and aesthetic decoration. A large painting dominated one wall, capturing a mountain range seemingly floating like clouds.
An expensive table stood proudly in the center, its surface hinting at meticulous organization. Notes and pens lay arranged with military precision. Shelves lining the walls overflowed with books, all boasting the latest titles in English. Anyone stepping into this room would immediately conclude its owner possessed a sharp intellect. However, this assumption was far from the truth. The owner of this studious sanctuary couldn't read a word of English.
Seated at the table was an old man, his body still bearing the marks of a life well-lived despite the passage of time. A glimpse of his former self peeked through—one could easily imagine him as a handsome young man in his prime.
He was lost in his writing when the door creaked open, an intruder disrupting his concentration.
The old man's brow furrowed slightly, but he remained silent.
"Sorry, Don," the visitor stammered, his voice laced with urgency. "But this is important."
The old man continued writing, seemingly unfazed by the interruption.
"Don," the man repeated, his voice rising in desperation. "Ezel is gone."
The old man's pen faltered, then stilled completely.
"Ezel," he rasped, disbelief coloring his voice.
"Russell's men," the man explained. "They wanted to wipe out his entire family. He tried to fight them off, but..." his voice trailed off, choked with emotion.
The old man sat in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on the empty space before him.
"Don't you care?" a hint of anger crept into the man's voice. "Ezel was your friend, practically a son to you."
The old man slowly raised his head, his eyes locking with the visitor's.
"Of course, I do care," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "Ezel was just like my son."
He rose and approached the window, his gaze sweeping across the sprawling cityscape below.
"I've lived a long life," he said, his voice heavy with sadness. "Seen my fair share of death. But this is Cosa Nostra. When you gamble with someone else's life, there's no guarantee of your own. Today we're here, tomorrow we may not be. You're new, Aldo, so you'll be shocked. I've attended my child's funeral six times. It's the nature of our business. We fight death every moment of our lives. So, someone's death shouldn't surprise us. Certainly, I'll miss Ezel because he was dearer to me than my own sons. But, this was bound to happen."
Vittorio finished speaking and fell silent. Aldo let out a long sigh and nodded.
"And Aldo," Vittorio continued, his voice hardening, "this is your first and last mistake. I don't appreciate anyone entering my room without permission."
"Yes, Don. I'll be more careful next time," Aldo replied, standing up and exiting the room with Don's permission.
---
Aldo descended the grand staircase and reached a spot in the corridor where the guards couldn't see him. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
"Ezel's dead. Yes, it's confirmed news. Russell wanted to kidnap Ezel's child. While saving his son Ezel died. No, Vittorio didn't show any reaction. Okay, I'll let you know if I find anything else," Aldo said and hung up the phone. He then leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
Little did he know, Vittorio's watchful eyes were on him from the study's window.
------
Sahira and Jahra were taken aback by the sight that greeted them as they stepped out of the car. A group of suited and booted guards stood guard, the area swarming with people. A plane stood at a distance, waiting to take off.

The children were all asleep. Two guards emerged from the car, carrying the children in their arms. Rain lashed down, soaking everyone to the bone. As soon as Sahira and Jahra stepped out of the car, two men held umbrellas over them, shielding them from the downpour.
Karim stood at the plane's entrance with Arham. Sahira felt a wave of relief wash over her as she saw him safe and sound. But amidst the chaos, something didn't feel right. Seeing his mother, little Arham strode towards her. Sahira lifted him into her arms.
As Karim approached the drenched figures of Sahira and Jahra, their eyes widened with apprehension. The urgency in his voice echoed the gravity of their predicament. "You must leave immediately," he implored, his tone laced with concern. "It's no longer safe for you to remain here."
Jahra's heart pounded with fear, her mind struggling to comprehend the whirlwind of events. "But why, Karim?" she pleaded, her voice trembling. "Our home... who would do such a thing?"
Karim's expression hardened, his eyes reflecting the weight of untold truths. "Jahra," he began, his voice laced with urgency, "there's no time for explanations now. All of your safety is paramount. Trust me, I'll explain everything later."
Jahra's eyes welled up with tears, the fear in her heart palpable. "I'm so scared, Karim," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "Today, someone set our house on fire. What's happening to us? And now you're telling us to flee?"
Karim's gaze met hers, his determination unwavering. "I know this is overwhelming, Jahra," he acknowledged gently, "but I promise you, I'll keep all of you safe, inshallah. I'll be back with you within a couple of days."
Jahra hesitated, her mind wrestling with doubt and fear. But Karim's unwavering resolve and the urgency in his voice left her with little choice. With a heavy heart, she nodded her silent acceptance a testament to her trust in him.
As Sahira and Jahra made their way towards the waiting airplane, Sahira's eyes darted through the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Her heart ached for Arsalan, the man she once loved and now despised. Despite her hatred for him, she couldn't deny the lingering affection that still resided within her heart.
The complexity of her emotions towards Arsalan left her confused and conflicted. How could she reconcile her love with the knowledge of his dark deeds? The struggle within her was a testament to the power of love, even in the face of betrayal.
Sahira paused, her breath catching in her throat as Karim's urgent call sliced through the chaos. His voice, laced with anxiety, painted a picture of imminent danger, forcing her to confront the harsh reality of their situation. Uncertainty washed over her, threatening
to drown her in a sea of fear and doubt. She sensed a hidden message in Karim's words, something she might not be ready for. Yet, her feet remained rooted to the spot, unable to turn back.
Karim's voice broke the silence once more, his words carrying a weight that settled heavily upon Sahira's heart. "Sahira," he began gravely, "Arsalan asked you to take care of yourself and the children."
His words struck a chord, transporting her back in time. She relived the day she first set foot in this country, bound to Arsalan by a hasty marriage arranged in the wake of her father's death. The fear and uncertainty that gripped her then mirrored the emotions that now consumed her.
The difference, however, lay in the stark contrast between her past and present perceptions of Arsalan. Back then, love had blinded her, his true nature hidden from view. Today, she stood exposed to his darkness, his betrayal etched in her memory.
As she stood there, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, Sahira reflected on the passage of time. Once, she was merely Arsalan's wife, a pawn in his game. Now, she was a mother of four, her life intertwined with the innocent souls she had brought into the world.
The dreams she once shared with Arsalan, visions of a bright and prosperous future, had crumbled, replaced by an abyss of uncertainty. The path ahead stretched before her, shrouded in darkness, its destination unknown.
Tears streamed down Sahira's cheeks, mingling with the raindrops that cascaded from the heavens. Slowly, Sahira walked towards the plane, each step a heavy burden on her heart.
As she ascended the steps, her gaze caught a glimpse of a young woman, Sahira, descending from the plane. The young Sahira's heart pounded with anticipation, her eyes sparkling with the hope of a radiant future alongside her yet-to-be-met husband. She had only met him once, right after their marriage, and the memory of that brief encounter lingered in her mind, fueling her imagination with visions of the kind, brave, and strikingly handsome man she had married. Each story she had heard about him only added to the allure of the man she longed to truly know.
"Arsalan.." The young Sahira muttered and a radiant smile instantly appeared on her lips.
----------
© All Rights Reserved
It was a study room, a haven of tasteful and aesthetic decoration. A large painting dominated one wall, capturing a mountain range seemingly floating like clouds.
An expensive table stood proudly in the center, its surface hinting at meticulous organization. Notes and pens lay arranged with military precision. Shelves lining the walls overflowed with books, all boasting the latest titles in English. Anyone stepping into this room would immediately conclude its owner possessed a sharp intellect. However, this assumption was far from the truth. The owner of this studious sanctuary couldn't read a word of English.
Seated at the table was an old man, his body still bearing the marks of a life well-lived despite the passage of time. A glimpse of his former self peeked through—one could easily imagine him as a handsome young man in his prime.
He was lost in his writing when the door creaked open, an intruder disrupting his concentration.
The old man's brow furrowed slightly, but he remained silent.
"Sorry, Don," the visitor stammered, his voice laced with urgency. "But this is important."
The old man continued writing, seemingly unfazed by the interruption.
"Don," the man repeated, his voice rising in desperation. "Ezel is gone."
The old man's pen faltered, then stilled completely.
"Ezel," he rasped, disbelief coloring his voice.
"Russell's men," the man explained. "They wanted to wipe out his entire family. He tried to fight them off, but..." his voice trailed off, choked with emotion.
The old man sat in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on the empty space before him.
"Don't you care?" a hint of anger crept into the man's voice. "Ezel was your friend, practically a son to you."
The old man slowly raised his head, his eyes locking with the visitor's.
"Of course, I do care," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "Ezel was just like my son."
He rose and approached the window, his gaze sweeping across the sprawling cityscape below.
"I've lived a long life," he said, his voice heavy with sadness. "Seen my fair share of death. But this is Cosa Nostra. When you gamble with someone else's life, there's no guarantee of your own. Today we're here, tomorrow we may not be. You're new, Aldo, so you'll be shocked. I've attended my child's funeral six times. It's the nature of our business. We fight death every moment of our lives. So, someone's death shouldn't surprise us. Certainly, I'll miss Ezel because he was dearer to me than my own sons. But, this was bound to happen."
Vittorio finished speaking and fell silent. Aldo let out a long sigh and nodded.
"And Aldo," Vittorio continued, his voice hardening, "this is your first and last mistake. I don't appreciate anyone entering my room without permission."
"Yes, Don. I'll be more careful next time," Aldo replied, standing up and exiting the room with Don's permission.
---
Aldo descended the grand staircase and reached a spot in the corridor where the guards couldn't see him. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
"Ezel's dead. Yes, it's confirmed news. Russell wanted to kidnap Ezel's child. While saving his son Ezel died. No, Vittorio didn't show any reaction. Okay, I'll let you know if I find anything else," Aldo said and hung up the phone. He then leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
Little did he know, Vittorio's watchful eyes were on him from the study's window.
------
Sahira and Jahra were taken aback by the sight that greeted them as they stepped out of the car. A group of suited and booted guards stood guard, the area swarming with people. A plane stood at a distance, waiting to take off.

The children were all asleep. Two guards emerged from the car, carrying the children in their arms. Rain lashed down, soaking everyone to the bone. As soon as Sahira and Jahra stepped out of the car, two men held umbrellas over them, shielding them from the downpour.
Karim stood at the plane's entrance with Arham. Sahira felt a wave of relief wash over her as she saw him safe and sound. But amidst the chaos, something didn't feel right. Seeing his mother, little Arham strode towards her. Sahira lifted him into her arms.
As Karim approached the drenched figures of Sahira and Jahra, their eyes widened with apprehension. The urgency in his voice echoed the gravity of their predicament. "You must leave immediately," he implored, his tone laced with concern. "It's no longer safe for you to remain here."
Jahra's heart pounded with fear, her mind struggling to comprehend the whirlwind of events. "But why, Karim?" she pleaded, her voice trembling. "Our home... who would do such a thing?"
Karim's expression hardened, his eyes reflecting the weight of untold truths. "Jahra," he began, his voice laced with urgency, "there's no time for explanations now. All of your safety is paramount. Trust me, I'll explain everything later."
Jahra's eyes welled up with tears, the fear in her heart palpable. "I'm so scared, Karim," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "Today, someone set our house on fire. What's happening to us? And now you're telling us to flee?"
Karim's gaze met hers, his determination unwavering. "I know this is overwhelming, Jahra," he acknowledged gently, "but I promise you, I'll keep all of you safe, inshallah. I'll be back with you within a couple of days."
Jahra hesitated, her mind wrestling with doubt and fear. But Karim's unwavering resolve and the urgency in his voice left her with little choice. With a heavy heart, she nodded her silent acceptance a testament to her trust in him.
As Sahira and Jahra made their way towards the waiting airplane, Sahira's eyes darted through the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Her heart ached for Arsalan, the man she once loved and now despised. Despite her hatred for him, she couldn't deny the lingering affection that still resided within her heart.
The complexity of her emotions towards Arsalan left her confused and conflicted. How could she reconcile her love with the knowledge of his dark deeds? The struggle within her was a testament to the power of love, even in the face of betrayal.
Sahira paused, her breath catching in her throat as Karim's urgent call sliced through the chaos. His voice, laced with anxiety, painted a picture of imminent danger, forcing her to confront the harsh reality of their situation. Uncertainty washed over her, threatening
to drown her in a sea of fear and doubt. She sensed a hidden message in Karim's words, something she might not be ready for. Yet, her feet remained rooted to the spot, unable to turn back.
Karim's voice broke the silence once more, his words carrying a weight that settled heavily upon Sahira's heart. "Sahira," he began gravely, "Arsalan asked you to take care of yourself and the children."
His words struck a chord, transporting her back in time. She relived the day she first set foot in this country, bound to Arsalan by a hasty marriage arranged in the wake of her father's death. The fear and uncertainty that gripped her then mirrored the emotions that now consumed her.
The difference, however, lay in the stark contrast between her past and present perceptions of Arsalan. Back then, love had blinded her, his true nature hidden from view. Today, she stood exposed to his darkness, his betrayal etched in her memory.
As she stood there, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, Sahira reflected on the passage of time. Once, she was merely Arsalan's wife, a pawn in his game. Now, she was a mother of four, her life intertwined with the innocent souls she had brought into the world.
The dreams she once shared with Arsalan, visions of a bright and prosperous future, had crumbled, replaced by an abyss of uncertainty. The path ahead stretched before her, shrouded in darkness, its destination unknown.
Tears streamed down Sahira's cheeks, mingling with the raindrops that cascaded from the heavens. Slowly, Sahira walked towards the plane, each step a heavy burden on her heart.
As she ascended the steps, her gaze caught a glimpse of a young woman, Sahira, descending from the plane. The young Sahira's heart pounded with anticipation, her eyes sparkling with the hope of a radiant future alongside her yet-to-be-met husband. She had only met him once, right after their marriage, and the memory of that brief encounter lingered in her mind, fueling her imagination with visions of the kind, brave, and strikingly handsome man she had married. Each story she had heard about him only added to the allure of the man she longed to truly know.
"Arsalan.." The young Sahira muttered and a radiant smile instantly appeared on her lips.
----------
© All Rights Reserved
