Midnight Ember - Chapter 9: The House Without Walls

At 3:03 a.m., Lahore was unnaturally quiet.

No sirens. No azaan. No dogs barking.

Just stillness — like the city itself was bracing for something.

Inside the safehouse, Alishba and Reyan sat at opposite ends of the room, surrounded by scattered maps, half-drunk chai, and the thick silence of unspoken doubts.

The blood-letter lay between them like a third presence.

Alishba’s eyes hadn’t left it for hours.

Reyan, on the other hand, had barely looked at it since.

She finally broke the silence.

“There were two SUVs parked outside half an hour ago.”

“I know,” he said.

“You saw?”

“License plates were fake. No movement yet.”

Alishba looked at him carefully.

“You think they’ll wait till morning?”

“No,” Reyan said. “They’ll wait till your fear starts screaming.”

But fear wasn’t new to Alishba.

She’d learned to live with it the same way Daniyal had once taught her to live with shadows — by photographing them.

“Look at the darkness until it shows you what it’s hiding,” he used to say.

So that’s what she did now.

She stood, grabbed her camera, and moved toward the window.

She zoomed.

Sharpened focus.

Then clicked.

Flash off. ISO high. One shot, two, three.

She reviewed the images.

In the backseat of the left SUV — a face she knew.

Zahra.

The knock came at 3:34 a.m.

Three taps.

Then silence.

Then one more.

Reyan had already drawn his pistol.

He looked at Alishba. “Take the back stairs. If I don’t follow in two minutes, go.”

She stood up, jaw clenched. “No. I’m not leaving without that file or you.”

He smirked. “You’re either brave… or stupid.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You say that like they’re different things.”

He opened the door.

Zahra stepped inside alone.

Unarmed.

Draped in a dark shawl, her hair wet from the mist.

“Reyan,” she said simply.

“Zahra.”

Alishba hovered near the corner, camera still in hand.

Zahra’s eyes briefly flicked toward her.

“Alishba. Always ready to document your own destruction, hmm?”

Alishba didn’t flinch. “Say what you came to say.”

Zahra sat down on the edge of the table like she owned the space.

“We have Daniyal.”

The air shifted.

Reyan’s grip tightened around his pistol.

Alishba took a step forward. “Alive?”

Zahra nodded. “Barely.”

“Where?”

Zahra smiled.

“That’s where things get... complicated.”

She dropped a folded map onto the table.

A location marked near the Thal desert — deep, isolated, past any police or military radar.

“Facility’s mobile,” she said. “They move every seventy-two hours. You’ve got one chance.”

Reyan narrowed his eyes. “Why tell us this?”

“Because I’m tired,” Zahra said softly. “Of silence. Of watching good people turn into ghosts.”

Alishba frowned. “And you suddenly grew a conscience?”

“No,” Zahra said. “I grew a scar. Right here.”

She tapped her chest.

“Same place Daniyal got shot the first time — saving someone who betrayed him.”

Alishba blinked.

“You knew him?”

“I trained with him.”

Reyan stepped in. “You said he was an asset. He chose it.”

“He did,” Zahra replied. “But he didn’t know what they’d turn him into.”

A pause.

Then she said something neither of them expected:

“He’s trying to escape now.”

Alishba’s breath caught.

“What?”

“He sent you that letter. I made sure it reached the attic. He wanted you to know the truth… but he didn’t want you to stop.”

Her voice dropped.

“He doesn’t know who he is anymore. But he remembers you.”

Alishba sat down hard, like the weight of that sentence had knocked the ground from under her.

Zahra rose.

“I’ve done my part. What you do with this is up to you.”

Then she walked toward the door.

Stopped.

Turned to Reyan.

“Be careful. There’s one more name on that list. And it isn’t just Daniyal’s or yours.”

Reyan stiffened.

Zahra looked straight at him.

“It’s hers.”

They left the safehouse before dawn, with only a pack of gear, a rusted Jeep, and the shared knowledge that this might be the end of the road — for one of them.

On the highway out of Lahore, Alishba kept her eyes on the horizon.

“You ever been to Thal?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Desert seems fitting.”

“For what?”

She looked at him sideways.

“For a place where everything burns.”

He didn’t reply.

Because he knew she was right.

ns216.73.216.197da2

Chapter 9: The House Without Walls

REGISTER

LOGIN

Interface Language:

Story Language: