121.

The door slammed open with a force that rattled the walls. Ibrahim strode in, his presence like a dark shadow swallowing the room. In his hand, the cold steel of a loaded gun gleamed, its weight seeming to drag down the atmosphere.

Everyone turned to him, their breath caught in their throats.

Murad and Faraaz exchanged urgent, knowing glances, silently coordinating their next move. Behind them, Alana instinctively reached for Taliya’s arm, pulling her a step back. Her grip was firm despite the tremble in her hand.

Hashim didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his tall frame standing between Ibrahim and the rest of the family. His voice rang out, calm but unyielding. “Put the gun down, Ibrahim.”

Ibrahim let out a dry, mocking laugh, shaking his head as if amused by the audacity of the command. “Oh, Hashim, still playing the noble brother. Still trying to clean up after me,” he sneered. His voice was laced with venom, his words cutting through the air.

He lifted the gun, pointing it lazily at Hashim. “You think you can undermine me, make my son defy me, and I wouldn’t notice? You must think I’m a fool.”

Hashim’s jaw tightened, his glare sharp. “This isn’t about you anymore, Ibrahim. It’s about the lives you’ve ruined. The people you’ve hurt. And you can’t stand that they’re finally fighting back, can you?”

At this, Ibrahim’s smirk vanished. His face darkened, the edges of his composure fraying. “Fighting back? You mean turning my own blood against me? Is this what you call justice?”

He turned his gaze to Faraaz, his hand shifting, the gun now aimed directly at him. The air turned icy, and a collective gasp filled the room.

“You,” Ibrahim said, his voice a low growl. “My son. My flesh and blood. You’ve chosen to side with them? Against your own father?”

Faraaz’s face was stoic, but his clenched fists betrayed the storm brewing inside him. He took a step forward, his voice steady despite the tension. “You stopped being my father the moment you chose power over family. I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”

“You won’t let me?” Ibrahim spat, his voice rising with fury. “Let me remind you who’s holding the gun, boy.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Ibrahim’s finger hovered over the trigger.

Before anyone could react, a loud crash shattered the moment. A vase flew across the room, spinning in the air before smashing into Ibrahim’s hand. The impact sent the gun flying from his grip, clattering loudly to the floor.

Ibrahim let out a sharp hiss, clutching his hand as the shards of the vase scattered across the floor. His eyes snapped to Alana, who stood firm despite the fear in her mismatched eyes.

“You’ll hurt no one!” she shouted, her voice steady but filled with emotion.

Taliya gasped, clutching Alana’s arm in shock. “Are you crazy?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Ibrahim snarled, his rage boiling over. “You insolent girl—”

Before he could finish, Hashim seized his chance. He lunged forward, tackling Ibrahim with all his strength. The two brothers crashed into the furniture, their struggle chaotic and violent. A table overturned, the sound of splintering wood adding to the chaos.

“You’re done, Ibrahim!” Hashim growled, his hands gripping his brother’s collar. “This ends here!”

But Ibrahim, driven by desperation, shoved him off with surprising strength. He staggered to his feet, his eyes wild as he bolted for the door.

“Stop him!” Hashim roared, but Ibrahim was already outside.

The cold night air hit him as he stumbled into the street. His breaths were ragged, his steps uneven as he glanced over his shoulder, his mind racing for an escape.

In his panic, he didn’t notice the growing roar of an engine, the blinding glare of headlights cutting through the darkness.

The truck’s horn blared, a warning too late to stop the inevitable.

With a sickening thud, the truck struck Ibrahim, his body flung into the air before crumpling lifelessly onto the asphalt. The screech of tires echoed through the street as the truck skidded to a halt.

Inside the house, the sound of the crash sent a chill down everyone’s spine. Hashim rushed to the door, followed closely by Murad and Faraaz.

They stopped just short of the road, their eyes fixed on Ibrahim’s motionless body. The driver of the truck had stepped out, his face pale with shock, but the scene spoke for itself.

Hashim exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the moment sank in. “It’s over,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Murad glanced back at the house, where Alana and Taliya stood in the doorway, their faces pale but determined. He placed a hand on his uncle’s shoulder. “He made his choice,” he said solemnly. “And he paid for it.”

Hashim nodded, his expression unreadable. “We need to protect what’s left of this family,” he said finally, his voice firm despite the grief underlying it.

Inside, Alana slumped against the wall, her body trembling as the adrenaline wore off. Taliya knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around her friend. “You were so brave,” she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and fear.

Alana shook her head, her mismatched eyes filled with unshed tears. “I just couldn’t let him hurt anyone,” she murmured.

From the doorway, Murad and Faraaz exchanged a look. For the first time in a long while, there was a sense of unity, a shared resolve to move forward from the chaos their father had created.

As the wail of sirens approached, Hashim turned back to the group. “This is the end of Ibrahim’s story,” he said, his voice heavy with finality. “But it’s the start of ours. We rebuild from here.”

The family stood together, united in the wake of destruction. Outside, the sound of sirens faded into the background as the night slowly swallowed the remnants of the storm Ibrahim had unleashed.