2025-08-06 10:19:52
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Chapter 72
Every war leaves behind ghosts. Kabri needed warriors.---The desert wind swept through the ruined outskirts of Rabat like a warning from the old gods. Where once sand had buried empires, now shadows moved in silence—men and women without allegiance, without homes, without mercy. Kabri stood at the helm of something reborn, something the old world would never see coming.The rogue cell was more than an idea. It was a response to every betrayal he had suffered. To every comrade he had buried. To every illusion of loyalty shattered beneath Fred’s empire and Yusuf’s treachery.And it began in the hollow shell of an abandoned textile factory.---By sunrise, it buzzed with the rhythm of new blood.Satellite dishes scraped the morning sky, power generators roared to life, and armored trucks sat under tarpaulin like sleeping beasts. Kabri—still answering only to “Saeed Al-Rai”—watched the transformation unfold from a high catwalk, a worn keffiyeh wrapped loosely around his face.He had sen
Chapter 71
The chains had just fallen away.The guard’s footsteps faded into the cold stone corridor.Kabri and Evelyn didn’t hesitate.Their bodies moved instinctively—silent, swift—as they slipped through the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the monastery.Each heartbeat thundered louder than the last. Every breath a stolen gift.The air was thick with dust and desperation, but freedom was within reach.Outside, the desert night embraced them.Stars flickered like silent witnesses to their flight.Kabri pulled Evelyn close, eyes scanning the darkness for pursuers.“We don’t have much time,” he whispered.She nodded, fingers trembling in his.“But we have now,” she breathed back.They ran—barefoot over cracked stones and dry scrub—until their legs could no longer carry them.Then, beneath an ancient olive tree, they collapsed.Their breaths mingled, heavy and raw.Kabri brushed a strand of hair from Evelyn’s face.Her eyes shone, reflecting moonlight and a thousand unspoken confessions.No words we
Chapter 70
It was not the reunion either of them had imagined.No firelight. No whispers. No soft glances or trembling fingers reaching for forgiveness.Only stone, rusted chains, and silence broken by the constant drip of leaking pipes.Kabri opened his eyes slowly, his head pounding.The cell was small — barely wide enough for him to stretch out. Iron shackles bound his ankles, and one wrist had been looped to a metal ring embedded in the wall.He’d been drugged.Again.His body remembered the sensation: the numb crawl in his veins, the nausea, the half-dreams of fire and sea and Evelyn’s voice whispering his name like it was both a blessing and a curse.Evelyn.The thought pulled him upright.And then — as if summoned by pain itself — a soft cough echoed across the dark.He turned his head.The opposite side of the cell was veiled in shadow. But he saw the faint movement — a figure, sitting with her back against the wall, knees pulled to her chest, arms trembling.“Evelyn?” His voice cracked.
Chapter 69
The courtyard exploded into chaos.What began as a high-level diplomatic gala inside the Palais Hansen Kempinski had unraveled into gunfire and glass. Guests screamed, orchestra strings snapped mid-note, and black-suited men with earpieces dropped their champagne for sidearms.Kabri had seconds.One moment he was discussing a forged Vatican dossier with a Jordanian attaché, and the next—the skylights shattered above them.Bullets rained like nails through silk.The bodies fell fast.Kabri didn’t need to look. He knew the shots weren’t random. They were a message.Fred was no longer playing defense.Minutes earlier, behind the ballroom stage.Yusuf’s warning had come late, whispered through a comm-cracked earpiece:“Pull out. Now. Fred activated Plan Vulture. You’re boxed in.”Kabri didn’t ask what Plan Vulture was.He simply pivoted.Down the hall, past the chandeliers and velvet-draped portraits, through a maintenance door—and into the underbelly of old Vienna.He knew there was an e
Chapter 68
Kabri didn’t expect a package.Not in the scorched town of Medenine, Tunisia.The note came folded inside a rust-colored envelope, unmarked. Delivered to his temporary safehouse by a boy no older than ten, who disappeared before Kabri could ask a question. The boy’s eyes had held no fear, just a weight too heavy for children—like he'd already carried the sins of older men.The handwriting inside the note was unmistakable.Meet me. Alone. Midnight. The Zaouia crypt. —YKabri didn’t trust the message. But he didn’t need to. He only needed the truth.The crypt stank of wet limestone and centuries of buried names. Deep below the old mosque, it was built to keep saints forgotten and secrets eternal.And there—half-shadowed in the flickering light of Kabri’s lantern—stood Yusuf.Older.Thinner.Paler.As though months of sleepless power games and splintered loyalties had leached the fire from his bones.He held no weapon.Only a thin leather-bound book clutched to his chest like scripture.
Chapter 67
The desert doesn’t forgive.Not the wind, not the dust, not the secrets buried in sand for centuries.Kabri stood at the edge of the plateau, the horizon bleeding fire as the Moroccan sun set over the Zagora dunes. Behind him: an armored 4x4 riddled with hidden weapons. Before him: silence—and the weight of a betrayal that could no longer be buried.Yusuf’s men had turned.Not all.But enough.They didn’t believe Kabri anymore. Or maybe they never had. Maybe Yusuf’s paranoia had taken root in their minds—spreading like infection, eating away at trust until all that remained was the smell of oil, steel, and war.It had started the day after Evelyn’s rescue.Whispers.Surveillance drones repositioned—without orders.Gear inventories altered.Weapons moved.Then the call came.From Tariq.Yusuf’s chief field enforcer.“Come alone. South base. The others want to speak freely… without Yusuf.”But Kabri knew better.It wasn’t a conversation.It was a test.And he was done taking those.He a
