94.

Murad and Hassan moved swiftly through the narrow alleyways of the city’s eastern district, their footsteps echoing off the brick walls. They were headed for an underground bar known for its shady patrons, people who had no loyalty to anyone—except themselves. The perfect place for a man like Faraz to leave a few breadcrumbs.

The bar, tucked between two rundown buildings, was barely a blip on the map, but it thrived on secrecy and danger. They stepped inside, and a wave of smoke and stale beer greeted them. Murad scanned the room, his gaze locking onto a familiar figure slouched over at the far end of the bar: Akram, one of Faraz’s known associates.

Akram was a wiry man with a smug grin and a permanent glint of mischief in his eyes. He’d always had a knack for slipping through fingers, whether it was the law’s or Faraz’s enemies. Tonight, though, there was no escape.

Hassan strode forward first, clapping a hand on Akram’s shoulder, hard enough to make him flinch. “Akram, long time no see.”

Akram looked up, his expression flickering between surprise and annoyance. “Hassan, Murad. Didn’t expect to see you gentlemen in a place like this,” he sneered, voice dripping with mock politeness.

Murad leaned over, his voice low but menacing. “Cut the pleasantries, Akram. We’re not here for a friendly chat. We need information—about Faraz.”

Akram chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated yawn. “Ah, Faraz. Haven’t heard from him in ages. Guess he’s gone a bit… antisocial, you could say.” His smirk widened. “But then again, so have you two. Maybe you’re more alike than you think.”

Murad’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he kept his voice level, cold. “We’re not here to play games, Akram. Word is you’ve been in contact with him recently.”

Akram’s smirk didn’t falter. “Oh, that’s the word, is it? Funny, because words can be awfully unreliable.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “Especially when they come from people looking for ghosts.”

Hassan’s patience was thinning. He leaned in, his face inches from Akram’s. “Listen, we’re not in the mood for your cheap tricks. Either you tell us what you know, or we’ll see how long that grin of yours lasts.”

Akram rolled his eyes, brushing Hassan off with an amused grin. “You two always were so serious. But even if I knew where Faraz was, what makes you think I’d share it with you?”

Murad’s lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes were sharp. “Maybe because this time, your old friend’s on the wrong side of the line. And when that line’s crossed, things get… messy.”

Akram’s smugness wavered, just for a second. But he quickly regained his composure, folding his arms across his chest. “Alright, I’ll bite. Say I did know something. What’s in it for me?”

Murad’s patience was hanging by a thread. He took a step closer, towering over Akram, his voice barely a whisper but lethal. “The ‘something’ you get is keeping that pretty face intact, Akram. Or would you prefer to answer to someone a little less... lenient?”

Akram’s bravado faltered, but he kept up the act. “Fine, fine. You want to know where Faraz has been hiding? Last I heard, he was lying low around the docks, meeting some new ‘friends’ who don’t exactly belong here.” He gave a sly smile. “But that’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”

Hassan exchanged a glance with Murad, silently weighing the information. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get them moving.

“See?” Akram said, spreading his arms with a theatrical flourish. “No need for threats, boys. A little respect goes a long way.”

Murad laughed softly, shaking his head. “Respect? That’s a big word coming from someone who’s never earned it.”

Akram’s smirk dropped as Murad turned to leave. Hassan shot him one last glance, full of mock pity. “You might want to watch your back, Akram. Keep playing both sides, and it won’t be long before you run out of allies. Faraz may forgive, but we don’t.”

They left Akram sitting alone, the smug expression wiped from his face, uncertainty now lurking in his eyes.

As Murad and Hassan stepped back into the cold night air, Murad’s gaze hardened. “If Faraz is at the docks, then he’s likely making moves we haven’t seen coming. We need to be ready for anything.”

Hassan nodded, a dark glint in his eye. “Whatever he’s up to, we’ll be one step ahead. He’s not getting away this time.”

Without another word, they disappeared into the night, ready to face the shadows Faraz had left behind, the hunt leading them deeper into the web Faraz had spun. And with each step, Murad’s resolve only strengthened.

One way or another, Faraz would answer for his actions.

As soon as Murad and Hassan were out of sight, Akram’s easygoing facade crumbled. He wiped the sweat from his brow, cursing under his breath. Murad’s words echoed in his mind, laced with a warning that even Akram couldn't brush off. It was bad enough being in Murad’s crosshairs; if Faraz found out about this meeting… Well, there were no safe bets left.

After a quick glance around the bar to make sure no one was watching, Akram slipped out a burner phone from his pocket. He tapped in a number, one he had memorized but rarely dialed, and waited. The line crackled for a few seconds before it connected.

A voice, cold and smooth, answered on the other end. “Akram.”

Akram swallowed, steeling himself. “Faraz. We need to talk.”

A slight pause. “Last I checked, I pay you to keep your mouth shut, not open it. What’s this about?”

Akram felt a prickle of irritation but kept his tone respectful. “Murad came to see me tonight. He’s sniffing around, asking questions about you. Said he thinks you’re involved in… something.”

Faraz’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing he didn’t already know,” Akram replied hastily. “I just hinted you’ve been around the docks, that’s it. He’s got his own suspicions—didn’t need my help to find them.”

“Did he now?” Faraz’s tone was unreadable, but Akram could sense the icy edge in his words. “And what exactly was Murad’s angle?”

Akram hesitated. “He… he thinks you’re connected to Taliya’s disappearance.”