The safehouse in Shalimar had no name, no number, and no lock that Reyan didn’t personally install. It was quiet, dark, and cold — a place built not for comfort, but for survival.
Which was ironic, considering the storm that walked through its door just before Fajr.
Alishba.
Hair tangled, shawl torn, dog tag in one hand, and fire in her eyes.
Reyan was at the sink, rinsing dried blood from his knuckles when he sensed her. He didn’t turn. Didn’t ask how she found him. She always did, somehow.
“You flew him out,” she said softly — so softly it almost didn’t reach him. “Didn’t you?”
He turned slowly, eyes locking onto hers.
There was no point lying.
“Yes.”
The word left his lips with the weight of a gunshot.
Alishba didn’t move. She simply walked forward and placed something on the table between them.
The photograph of young Reyan in uniform.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnpKQqHPoNt
Beside it — Daniyal’s dog tag.
His expression didn’t change, but something behind his gaze shifted.
She crossed her arms. Her voice didn’t tremble.
“You knew my brother. You were part of the operation. And you never told me.”
Reyan exhaled. “Because I thought he was dead.”
Her jaw tightened. “And now?”
“I don’t know.”
She leaned in. “You do.”
He stayed silent.
But Alishba had spent years photographing grief — she could read silence better than sound.
“Where did you take him?” she demanded.
Reyan finally spoke, voice low. “It was supposed to be a clean flight. One man, one bag, no questions. But Daniyal asked too many. Said something about ‘Base-17’ and ‘leaking files to the outside.’ He wasn’t being escorted… he was being vanished.”
Alishba’s throat clenched.
“I tried to intervene. They grounded me for two months afterward.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because if I did, you’d go looking for him. And if he’s alive… he’s somewhere you can’t come back from.”
She slapped the table. “You think that scares me?”
“No,” Reyan said quietly. “I think it excites you.”
That was the problem with Alishba. She wasn’t driven by justice. She was driven by something more dangerous: unfinished love.
Reyan walked over to the window, looking out at the rooftops soaked in dawn.
“Who gave you the photo?” he asked.
Alishba looked away. “Someone who claimed to know Daniyal. He’s dead now. Shot before he could say more.”
Reyan clenched his jaw. “Black Birds.”
She looked at him.
“You keep saying that. Who are they?”
He turned to her, face unreadable. “The ones who clean up messes. Government assets with no records. Killers dressed as patriots. They were the ones who came for your brother. And now they’ve come for you.”
She stepped closer. “Then why are you still here? Why haven’t they erased you?”
A flicker of something passed over his face.
“Because I haven’t disobeyed orders.”
A beat.
Her voice cracked for the first time. “Until now.”
“Yes,” he said.
A moment of heavy silence settled between them — thick with all the things they never said. Trust was a luxury neither could afford, but need… need was louder.
Finally, she sat down.
“We go after them,” she said. “Together.”
Reyan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly the trusting type.”
“I don’t trust you.”
He smirked. “Likewise.”
“Then why agree?”
He took out a folded sheet of paper and placed it on the table.
Coordinates. Names. A private airstrip near the Afghan border. Code-named Falak-17.
“Because they’re not just after you,” Reyan said. “They’re after me now too.”
The deal was simple.
Alishba would follow the trail.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjMcKsjtXgy
Reyan would fly them in.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbCNRkzKsSq
Both would betray each other, if necessary.
But not just yet.
They arrived at the abandoned air hangar that night — a place covered in rust and riddled with secrets. Inside, Alishba used a fake press badge and Reyan wore the uniform of a decommissioned air officer.
Security was loose.
Too loose.
They walked past crates marked in Urdu, Pashto, and codes that made no sense.
One box lay open.
Inside it: files.
Government seals. Classified flight logs. Satellite images.
One caught Alishba’s eye.
PROJECT SAAYA: Phase I Complete16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbCqapPXMAR
Subject: DR-7 “Razaq” confirmed unstable. Transferred to Control Base: Unlisted.
Her eyes widened.
“Razaq.”
That wasn’t a random name.
That was her surname.
Her brother’s file.
She grabbed the folder.
A gun cocked behind her.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said a voice.
Zahra.
Again.
Flanked by two men, faces covered, eyes like ice.
Reyan stepped in front of Alishba, hand brushing the concealed pistol on his hip.
“Still playing watchdog, Zahra?”
“Still falling for the wrong girl?” she snapped.
“She’s not the wrong girl,” he said evenly. “She’s just the one none of you can control.”
Zahra’s smile vanished.
“You really plan to go against everything we built?”
“No,” Reyan said. “I plan to destroy it.”
And just like that, chaos erupted.
Gunfire. Shouting. Alishba ducked behind crates, pulling Reyan down with her.
He shouted, “Back exit — two minutes!”
She nodded, clutching the file to her chest like it was her heartbeat.
They ran.
Through smoke. Past the sounds of betrayal. Out into the night.
In the silence of a ruined safehouse hours later, Alishba opened the file again.
One photograph slipped out.
A security cam still. Black and white.
A room.
A man strapped to a chair.
Face hidden in shadow.
But on his wrist, a faint glint.
Daniyal’s tag.
Still being worn.
She looked up at Reyan, hands trembling.
“He’s alive.”
Reyan didn’t answer.
He just sat beside her and stared at the fire.
Enemies — for now.
But maybe… just maybe…
They were the only two people in this war who had nothing left to lose.
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