A Tale of Hearts

Chapter Sixty Seven

Kamran's POV:

I clenched and unclenched my fists to calm myself down. It wasn't working but I had to do something to keep myself distracted from the murderous plans I was making for Wassal. I had always treated him like a brother. With respect and love. To think all this time, he was behind this. How could I be so blind? How could I not see the signs?

I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned pale. The engine hummed beneath us as the darkness outside blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold and red. Karachi had never looked so dark. It looked like it was going to rain which wasn't common.

My mind was a storm of its own, trying to process the betrayal. My cousin. My blood. The one who sat at our table, laughed with us, planned this. He was the reason she was gone. The reason my sister—Kainaat—had vanished into thin air. She better be alive. Kainaat, I am coming for you.

"Slow down, man," Ibraheem said beside me, his voice calm but firm. His hand hovered near the dashboard, ready to grab it if I jerked the wheel again. "You're not thinking straight. Switch with me. I will drive."

"I don't want to think straight bhai." I snapped, my voice cracking. Zoya had calmed me down before but the rage was bubbling in my chest again. I felt my body heave as I tried to swallow the anger clawing at my throat. "Ibraheem, all along, it was him—he used to sit with us. He knew—all this time, he knew and did it! And I shook his hand. I hugged him. I trusted him."

"I know, so did I. We all did." Ibraheem said softly. He leaned forward, his fingers curling into his pants. "I know, bro. But you're not helping by driving like this. You want us all dead in a ditch? Then what? Who's going to fix this? Who's going to find Kainaat?"

His words were like cold water, dousing the fire just enough for me to loosen my grip on the wheel. I slowed down, the car easing into a steady rhythm as the rain started to prickle on the windshield. Karachi and rain?

"How could we not see it?" My voice was barely above a whisper now. I stared straight ahead, the rain was picking speed now and the wipers sliced across the glass clearing the view.

Fahad sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Honestly? I am at a loss of words. But we focus on the present now...you can't let this eat you alive. We'll find her. Together."

His words grounded me, though the fury still bubbled under the surface. I tightened my jaw and nodded, even if I didn't show it, I was far too grateful for their presence. The weight of Fahad and Ibraheem's calm pressed against my chaos. I didn't know if I believed them. But for now, it was enough to keep the car moving forward. We were 8 minutes away. Abbu, Uncle Zubair, Uncle Saqib and Uncle Buland were already ahead of us. With how fast Uncle Buland was driving, the car was practically half floating. I wonder what abbu was thinking. I am sure he had murder on his mind too.

We arrived faster than expected. Wassal had several private residential properties across Pakistan and globally. All of them heavily guarded. He had started to live alone in his early twenties. It made sense now. That psychopath had things to hide. Or more like people. He no idea what was coming to him. I clenched my jaw tightly to the point that it hurt me. I was fully prepared for a bloodbath but the guards opened it the moment they saw Uncle Buland in the car.

I had never really looked at Wassal's properties before, at least not closely enough to piece it all together. To me, they had always seemed like his eccentric whims. But now, everything fit together like a missing puzzle piece, and the image it formed was far more sinister than I could have imagined.

The walls were the first thing that came to my view. They stood towering and unyielding, twenty feet high, casting long shadows over the ground. Not just decorative walls meant for privacy or aesthetics—these were solidified fortresses, built to keep something, or someone, inside. My chest tightened as I thought about what those walls really meant.