♛
The gun was left abandoned at the window it aimed from, Pasha found a clear view of a part of Layla's lounge from the scope.
"Two of ours are down on the roof, we found a zipline left behind. Most probably headed down east." Usman relayed from his ear piece.
The butler's dark brows pinched ever so slightly as he looked around the rest of the room. The dustbin was filled with a particular brand of energy drinks, there was a half-used jar of coffee and cereal on the kitchen rack and even a bookmarked book lied on the unkempt couch.
"He's been here for days." The butler picked the book. The Little Prince. A curious look slivered across his face.
Finally he turned to the window, and settled in front of the M40, his muscles automatically assuming the stance he'd used hundreds of times in the army. There hadn't been a shot as perfect as him in the entire barrack. Using his handkerchief to protect against fingermarks he gripped the machine, gliding the scope from the wrecked apartment to the front of the building.
He followed the mark from the driveway to the entrance, finding a perfect line of target throughout its path.
A surprised look glinted in the metallic grays.
♛
The air was tense and heavy, like the taut strings of a guitar on the verge of snapping. They were in a secluded intel base under one of his holdings. A hall full of people and screens, going over days worth of cctv footage of the complex.
The men were particularly quiet, their eyes on the dark-haired lord reclined on the sofa, arm folded over his closed eyes. Only the continuous, rhythmic tap of the leather boots on the table in front the only sign of him being awake. Still in the same clothes as before he looked almost war-struck, with a rag wrapped around his injured arm and blood and debris on his clothes.
He looked calm but the wrath radiating from that seemingly peaceful form had Usman breaking out in cold sweat, especially because he was the one supposed to be responsible for Layla's security.
"False name entry, no fingerprints. And there's nothing in the cctvs except a black shadow," Khalid, leading the intelligence team paced towards them with disappointment, "He must've mapped out all the blind spots beforehand."
"It could've been the same person as the previous attack." Usman desperately scrutinized the pictures for any hint.
Pasha, quietly leaning against a desk, shook his head in negative. Unlike the others, he still looked barely disheveled from the event, short gelled hair in place and onyx suit without a crease.
With everything going on in the Castle courts it was highly unlikely for Queen Uzlifat to carry out an attack of this patience and caliber. The assailant's original motive hadn't been to kill, but to spy, wait, and then attack.
"What I don't get is why the wait? The bastards were there for days. They could've tried this whenever. Master Qais was in their line of vision every step into the building and out." Khalid's dark browns furrowed skeptically, "Countless opportunities of clear fire, why risk one through glass and curtain?"
From the other end of the room, a sinister, razor-edged chuckle escaped the quiet lord.
"Because they weren't there for me at all."
The other men found the blood in their vessels freezing, because it was the first time he'd spoken since he dropped Layla off. And the sheer rage under that regal laughter was reverberating. Unable to voice their perplexion they turned to Pasha for clarification.
YOU ARE READING
QAIS
Roman d'amour"She was his mirage, a dream he could only chase. He was her living hell, a nightmare she could not escape." Layla Mustafa is the only girl in her family allowed to go to university. Belonging to a strict patriarchal background, Layla, the shy and s...
