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Chapter 339 A Home And A Wife
The silence in the house after Haneen left was a physical presence, a thick, accusing fog that seemed to mute even the ticking of the wall clock. Ali sat at the worktable for a long time, staring at the hairpin in his palm, its simple metal feeling like the only tangible connection to the life he was letting slip away. The grand designs, the urgent missions, all of it felt suddenly hollow, a castle built on sand that was washing away with the tide of his wife’s tears.He needed an anchor. With a hand that trembled slightly, he picked up his phone. He didn’t call Fadi, who would have offered pragmatic, unemotional advice. He didn’t call Hadi, who would have seen it as a distracting personnel issue. He scrolled to the contact simply labeled “Mom” and pressed call.It rang three times before her voice, warm and laced with the slight static of a poor connection to the old neighborhood, filled his ear. “Ali, habibi? Is everything alright? It’s late.”Just the sound of her concern was enoug
Chapter 338 War Room
The new house, which had once symbolized a fresh start and a sanctuary, had slowly transformed into a command center. The living room was now dominated by a large, scarred worktable littered with schematics, stripped-down mechanical components, and half-drunk cups of cold coffee. The soft lamplight that had once promised cozy evenings now illuminated blueprints for non-lethal containment fields and stress diagrams for armored plating. The air smelled of solder, ozone, and relentless focus.Ali existed in a state of perpetual motion. Since their return from a brief, almost forgotten honeymoon months ago, his world had contracted to the dimensions of this house-turned-headquarters. He worked from dawn until long past midnight, his meals sporadic and utilitarian, a piece of bread eaten over a circuit board, a few bites of whatever Haneen placed insistently by his elbow before it went cold. Sleep was a furtive enemy to be battled; he would collapse on the couch for two or three hours of
Chapter 337 Case Not Closed
The rhythmic, percussive sounds of controlled combat echoed through the cavernous training hall. For over an hour, the only dialogue between Hazim and Marwan had been grunts of effort, the shuffle of feet on worn mats, and the sharp exhalations that accompanied each strike and block. Their sparring session had evolved from the cautious dance of the previous day into something more fluid, more trusting. Marwan’s movements were gaining confidence, his body beginning to remember its old rhythms without the interference of conscious fear.Hazim, for his part, was a meticulous partner. He would press an attack, testing Marwan’s defenses, then allow an opening, coaching him through the counter. “Now, pivot! Don’t just swing, use the momentum! Good! Again!”They moved in a tight circle, the sweat flying from their brows. Hazim saw an opportunity, a slight overextension in Marwan’s guard as he threw a right cross. It was the perfect teaching moment to demonstrate a parry and a throw. The mov
Chapter 336 A Knight Is Back
The small, sun-drenched apartment that Marwan and Maria moved into after their honeymoon still smelled faintly of new paint and hope. Their brief getaway to a quiet coastal town had been a balm, a precious interlude of sea salt, laughter, and the profound peace of being utterly alone together. But the moment they crossed the threshold back into the city, the real world, with its debts, duties, and lingering wounds, rushed in to meet them.Maria unpacked their bags with a serene efficiency, but her eyes tracked Marwan as he paced the living room like a restless ghost. His fingers tapped against his thigh, a nervous rhythm that betrayed his thoughts. He was already mapping his route back to the bakery, calculating the hours needed to clean the ovens that had been cold for weeks, inventory the flour stores, and reach out to his regular customers."Marwan," she said gently, placing a stack of his folded clothes on the bed. "Come sit. We should talk about the next few weeks."He stopped p
Chapter 335 His Lovely Day
The morning of Marwan’s wedding dawned bright and clear, the sky a pristine, optimistic blue. In the quiet bedroom at the grandparents' house, Marwan stood before the mirror, meticulously adjusting the collar of his Black Suit. The bandages were gone, replaced by a high-collared undershirt that concealed the fading, angry scar on his neck. For weeks, he had chafed against the doctors’ orders for complete rest. Every evening, when he thought no one was looking, he would perform slow, careful stretches, then light calisthenics, pushing his recovering body just to the edge of pain. He was determined not to look like a ghost in his wedding pictures. He wanted to look strong, healthy, and worthy of the woman who had waited for him.Hazim, who had caught him doing push-ups a week prior, had finally thrown his hands up in exasperation. “You are going to tear something vital, and then you’ll get married in a full-body cast,” he had warned, his tone a mixture of concern and frustration. “Th
Chapter 334 Joy
The interrogation chamber beneath the association's hall was a place of stark, utilitarian silence, broken only by the hum of a single, powerful light and the soft rustle of paper. Hadi and Hazim sat across from a pale and sweating Samir Mahmoud. The merchant's story, told and retold over several hours, remained stubbornly consistent—a tale of gullibility, not conspiracy.Hadi’s questions were methodical, a slow, relentless pressure. "Describe their hands, Samir. In detail.""The…the older one, he always wore gloves. Leather. Even indoors. The younger one… his fingers were very long. Too long, I think now.""And their interest in the Council President.What, precisely, did they ask?""Nothing direct!Never! It was always about… about infrastructure projects he had voted on. Port security budgets. Telecommunications grants. They framed it as investment opportunities. They said knowing which council members were 'forward-thinking' helped them assess risk."Hazim, leaning against the cool
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