79.

Murad gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he sped through the empty streets. The hum of the engine and the blurry streetlights whipping past did little to calm his racing heart. His mind was on Taliya—her frightened face, the sound of her voice calling out for him.

“Hang on, Taliya,” he muttered under his breath, pressing harder on the gas pedal. His vision was tunneled, focusing on only one thing: saving her.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed on the passenger seat. Without thinking, Murad grabbed it, half expecting some clue or demand from the kidnappers. But it wasn’t them. It was Uncle Hashim.

He ignored the call, but the buzzing persisted, growing louder, insistent. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as he considered rejecting it again. But something gnawed at him—he couldn't just shut out the only person who’d always been there for him.

With a reluctant sigh, Murad swerved the car to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt, and he answered the call, gripping the phone so tightly it could crack.

“What do you want, Uncle?” he barked, not in the mood for anything but action.

“Murad,” Uncle Hashim’s voice came through, calm but firm. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“I don’t have time for this. I’m going after her. They took Taliya to get to me! And I’m not waiting around.”

There was silence on the other end for a second, then Uncle Hashim spoke, his tone low and measured. “That’s exactly why you can’t rush in. They took her because they want you. If you act without thinking, you’ll give them exactly what they want.”

Murad slammed his hand against the dashboard, the frustration boiling over. “So what? I just sit here and do nothing while they have her? While she’s suffering?”

“No, Murad,” Uncle Hashim said, his voice suddenly cutting through the tension like a knife. “We act smarter. You think running headfirst into their trap will help her? You think that’ll get her back safely?”

Murad’s breath was ragged, his heart thudding in his chest. “I can’t just—”

“You can’t let your anger control you,” Uncle Hashim interrupted, his tone sharp. “They’re using her to get to you. They’re counting on you to act out of desperation. You have to be smarter than that, Murad. We need a plan.”

Murad clenched his teeth, fighting the impulse to put the car back in gear and race off into the night. “What kind of plan?” he muttered, still not entirely convinced.

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Uncle Hashim continued. “But I’ve got a few contacts. We need to find out who these people are, what they really want from you. If we can get that information, we’ll know how to move forward.”

“And if it’s too late by then?” Murad’s voice broke, his fear finally surfacing. “What if they hurt her?”

“They won’t. Not yet.” Uncle Hashim’s voice softened, but there was a cold certainty behind his words. “Taliya is their bargaining chip. They need her alive to get what they want. But you can’t let them see you panic, or they’ll know they have the upper hand.”

Murad’s grip on the steering wheel loosened, his pulse slowing down just a little. “So what do we do?”

“Get back here. Now,” Uncle Hashim ordered. “We’ll talk, make a plan, and then we’ll go after them. But not until we know exactly what we’re walking into.”

Murad hesitated for a moment, staring at the empty road ahead of him. His gut screamed at him to go, to keep driving, but Uncle Hashim’s words lingered in his mind.

“Alright,” Murad finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m coming.”

As he turned the car around, Murad couldn’t shake the gnawing fear inside him. But he knew Uncle Hashim was right. Charging in now without a plan would only get Taliya killed. And he couldn’t afford to lose her. Not like this.

Murad’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his fingers. The night had swallowed the city in darkness, but the underworld was always alive—thrumming with danger, secrets, and betrayals. Murad knew these streets well, knew the players even better. But this... This was personal.

His phone buzzed again, and Murad didn’t even glance at it. His eyes were fixed ahead, a single thought pounding in his mind: They took Taliya to get to me.

The rules of the game had changed. He was no longer the hunter. They had made him the prey.

The large wrought-iron gates of Uncle Hashim’s mansion loomed ahead, standing as a symbol of both power and sanctuary. Murad drove through, his mind a storm of fury and guilt. The man who raised him, who taught him the ways of the streets and the art of survival, was waiting inside. And Uncle Hashim wasn’t one for waiting.

Murad barely parked the car before the door to the mansion swung open, revealing the tall, broad figure of Uncle Hashim, his dark eyes gleaming under the porch lights. His expression was calm, but Murad knew better than to mistake that calm for peace.

“You need to breathe,” Uncle Hashim said the moment Murad stormed in. “Charging in will get us nowhere.”

“They took her,” Murad spat, pacing like a caged lion. His voice was harsh, raw. “They took her to get to me, Uncle. I need to make them pay—”

“And you will,” Uncle Hashim interrupted, his voice a sharp cut through the tension. “But not like this. You know how this works, Murad. They’re expecting you to lose your mind. To charge in recklessly.”

Murad stopped pacing, his fists clenched by his sides. “Then what do you suggest? We just sit here while they have her?”

“No.” Uncle Hashim crossed his arms, his face darkening. “But if we don’t act smart, you’ll lose more than just Taliya. They’ll destroy everything you’ve built. Your empire, your name. They’ll ruin you.”

Murad’s jaw tightened. The mafia was his life, his blood. His father had ruled before him, and now, Murad wore the crown. He wasn’t just any leader—he was the leader. And someone had dared to strike at him through the one person he had allowed himself to care about.

“They know I’ll come for them,” Murad said, his voice low and dangerous. “But they don’t know how.”

Uncle Hashim stepped closer, his eyes searching Murad’s face. “You need to remember who you are. You’re not some common thug. You’re Murad. The king of this city’s underworld. They think they can bait you, trap you. But we’ll turn the trap on them.”

“How?” Murad demanded. “What do we know? Who took her?”

Uncle Hashim exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before answering. “There’s been whispers... a new faction, eager to make their mark. They want to dethrone you. Taliya is their leverage.”

Murad’s heart pounded, his blood boiling. “They think they can use her to break me.”

Uncle Hashim’s gaze sharpened. “And they think wrong.”

The silence hung heavy between them before Uncle Hashim finally spoke again, his tone measured but intense. “We have a meeting tonight. With one of our inside contacts. He knows who’s behind this, and he’ll have the intel we need to crush them.”

Murad’s eyes narrowed. “If this goes wrong, Taliya could die.”

Uncle Hashim stepped forward, his face hardening. “If you storm in now, she will die. But if we play this right, you’ll have her back. And they’ll regret ever touching her.”

Murad’s chest heaved with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. Every fiber of his being screamed to act, to lash out. But Uncle Hashim was right. He had to be smarter than that. The stakes were too high.

“Fine,” Murad said finally, his voice cold and deadly. “We meet this contact. But if anything happens to her—”

Uncle Hashim cut him off. “Nothing will happen to her, Murad. Not if you keep your head.”

Murad’s fists unclenched slightly, but the fire in his chest remained. “Let’s move. We don’t have time to waste.”

As they walked out to the car, Uncle Hashim gave him a sidelong glance. “I know this is personal. But remember, Murad—when you’re wearing the crown, there’s no room for personal.”

Murad didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes said it all.

This was personal, and whoever had dared take Taliya was about to learn that Murad was far more dangerous when it was personal.