The Forbidden Affection

The room was incredibly quiet, and the dying man was gripped by anxiety. The air was thick with the smell of dried blood, and the man on the floor was shaking, fearful of what was about to happen to him.

Loud, heavy footsteps echoed in the empty basement and stopped near the man on the floor. A powerful and imposing man, known as the Agha, sat down on a chair in front of the man on the ground.

One of the Agha's men nervously mentioned that the man on the floor hadn't said anything. He got even more anxious when he saw the Agha slowly rolling up his sleeves in a threatening way.

The Agha leaned in closer, his face emerging from the shadows. He put two fingers on his lips and his thumb under his chin, as if he was carefully thinking about how to deal with the man lying in front of him. The room was tense as they all waited to see what the Agha would do next.

The man lying on the floor gazed at the Agha with pure horror. When their eyes locked, all the colour drained from his face, and he was petrified. The Agha had dark green eyes that glared at him with intense ferocity, causing the frightened man to recoil in shock.

The Agha's posture exuded strength, dominance, and an overwhelming sense of authority and power. He sat there calmly, and no one could predict what he was thinking, but one thing was unmistakable: his eyes held a promise of death. His very presence seemed to echo deadly vows.

"Please, Agha, forgive me. I didn't know it was your fam- Ahhh!" The man's plea was cut short by a painful screech, as a harsh punch landed on his jaw, causing blood to splatter from his mouth. The dark-eyed man growled menacingly and grabbed a fistful of the man's hair, pulling it forcefully. The injured man cried out in agony.

"Did I tell you to speak?" He hissed maliciously that the trembling man felt his heart in his throat.

"Who are you working for?"He snickered this time, letting go of the trembling man's hair.

Instead of answering simply, the man kept on asking for forgiveness like a filthy shit, a trembling mess.

The green-eyed man shook his head in a circular motion giving him a deranged look.

His men held their breath. "Omar!" The man yelled.

The Omar guy who was standing beside him tensed as he started speaking. "Wife Zara Khalil. Son Samir Khalil with parents Habeeb and Aisha Khalil. Address, block C, building X. Wife Zara phone number 036****, age 38, a former teacher-"

"PLEASE!" The trembling man screeched as his eyes were bloodshot. "L-Leave my f-family alone! I-I'll t-tell you e-everything."

Omar smirked as the green-eyed man remained emotionless. "Tariq. He p-payed me money to k-keep tabs on your f-family but trust me I didn't know it was your fam-"

BOOM!

A loud shot was heard as its echo resounded in each corner, spreading the secrecy of death. The man's body lay dead with a bullet pierced in the middle of his forehead. His eyes wide opened as the life faded away from them.

A malicious smoke erupted from the gun's hole from where the bullet had been fired and killed the one whose death was written on it.

His body tensed, his eyes speaking volumes of how painful their deaths will be. Mess with him all you want but never just never go after his family. Because if you do, you'll probably end up six feet under the ground.

The green-eyed man didn't say a word as with just one glance his man scurried to work pulling the dead body away.

Rubbing a hand across his beard the man stood up to his mighty height. Taking out his cigarette he lit it up, placing the end at his lips. As he placed the gun in Omar's hand. His first in command and unfortunately his cousin from his father's side.

He twirled around walking out of the creepy building as Omar followed closely behind. His face stoic very well aware where they're heading.

The men sat in their sleek black rang rover and headed in their direction. The green-eyed man was driving as he threw out the finished cigarette and placed his ray ban smoothly looking elegant as ever.

The car came to a screeching halt in front of a mosque. "We should wait!" Omar spoke almost immediately knowing very well about the rage building inside the man beside him.

A glare from the man was enough as his eyes spoke volumes of vengeance. After all, he's no other than Dean Fayad the name of death himself.

"Jummah is going on. We c-can't just barge in a-and kill him in the mosque." Ibrahim spoke seriously knowing fully well that he was playing with a ticking bomb.

Omar is a man of strong beliefs. He's tall and a bit muscular with a brown complexion, trimmed beard, black hair with dark brown eyes. He's a swoon-worthy man as girls always chase after him. He's a kinda charmer with a cheeky smile.

Omar himself wanted to teach Jamal a lesson for his life but everything has time and place.

Dean stared at his good-for-nothing cousin for good minutes as Ibrahim tensed under his gaze. He felt the satisfaction of authority run through him at that moment.

His men are scared of him!

The man didn't bother to answer Omar as he got out of the car and towards the mosque, from his peripheral vision he saw Omar going inside to pray as he stood outside with a gun at his back.

He had left praying a long while ago. His heart which was once full of faith is now nothing more but a beating stone.

He can hear the Imam ending the prayer and just in a few seconds the people started coming out of the mosque making the area crowded.

A small shining light flickered his eyes as his gaze shot up to the intruder for any attack but what met his eyes kept him entranced.

On the second floor of the mosque in the far corner, away from prying eyes. A girl stood beside the railing. Her posture in submission. She was facing towards the sky with closed eyes. Her lips moved in rhythm with a slight tremble as she was drowned in her devotion to her lord.

"MashaAllah!" A word so foreign whispered from his lips.

He could feel someone approaching him but the man remained entranced. The glasswork done on her veil was the one that was reflecting sunlight on his face getting his attention.

She stared at the beauty whose one traitorous lock escaped the clutches of her hijab and caressed her cheek. A small smile formed on her lips as she opened her eyes-

Someone bumped into him. Dean glared at the retreating figure of a man for interrupting his conquest as he immediately stared back at the place to find no one there.

His eyes searched the beauty but no one was there. It felt like a hallucination a mirage which almost lulled him in.

Glaring at Omar who was walking towards him the man marched back to his rang rover knowing fully well that bastard Tariq must have escaped.

Dean didn't wait for Ibrahim as he roared the engine to life and next thing he was speeding away.