Later that day, Ibrahim sent for her.
Zainab didn't rush.
Something in the air felt… wrong.
Heavy.
She walked downstairs slowly, each step tightening the knot in her chest.
The living room was unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
Ibrahim sat on the sofa, a sheet of paper in his hand.
His posture was rigid. His expression unreadable.
And his eyes—
They looked like he hadn't slept at all.
Zainab stopped a few steps away from him.
"Yes, sir?" she said softly.
Ibrahim didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he gestured to the seat opposite him.
"Sit."
Zainab obeyed, lowering herself carefully, her hands folding tightly in her lap.
Without a word, Ibrahim placed the paper on the table between them.
"This," he said, his voice low, "is the complete letter from the bag."
Zainab frowned slightly.
"But… I already saw it."
"I know," he replied. "But there's something you didn't see."
A pause.
Then he pushed the paper toward her.
Zainab hesitated for a second before picking it up.
Her eyes scanned the familiar words.
Line after line.
Everything she had already read.
Until
Her breath hitched.
Her eyes dropped to the bottom of the page.
And froze.
There was another line.
A line that hadn't been there before.
Or maybe…
One she had somehow missed.
Her fingers trembled as she read it again.
"If you try to play smart, we will send you the girl's body first."
The paper slipped from her hand.
A cold wave rushed through her body.
"I… I don't understand…" she whispered.
Ibrahim leaned back slightly, his expression dark.
"They know about you."
Zainab shook her head immediately, panic rising.
"No… that's not possible. How would they know me? I just found the bag!"
Her voice cracked.
Fear crept into every word.
Ibrahim's gaze stayed fixed on her.
"That's exactly the problem," he said quietly. "This is bigger than we thought."
Zainab's vision blurred with tears.
Her chest tightened painfully.
"Ibrahim…" she whispered.
The name slipped out before she could stop it.
"I'm scared."
Silence followed.
But Ibrahim didn't correct her.
Didn't react.
He just looked at her.
Really looked at her.
As if trying to measure something deeper than her words.
Then he spoke.
Slowly.
Firmly.
"I promise you, Zainab… no one will touch you."
Her tears fell freely now.
Uncontrolled.
"I don't want to die"
The words came out broken. Barely a breath.
Ibrahim's jaw tightened.
"You won't."
But the certainty in his voice didn't reach his eyes.
Because deep down,
Even he could feel it.
This wasn't just a kidnapping anymore.
It had crossed a line.
And whatever they were up against now
Was far more dangerous than either of them had imagined.
This was war.