As soon as Karim got into the driver’s seat, he started the car and began driving. The air inside was thick with tension, the hum of the engine the only sound for a while. But Karim couldn’t hold it in.

“What the hell, Ayman?” Karim exploded, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “What the hell were you doing? Breaking into a house? Working again with that thug Farid? Are you out of your mind?”

Karim glanced at him, his frustration boiling over. “Say something! Damn it, Ayman, what’s going on with you? Why were you trying to rob a house? And what’s this nonsense the cops told me about you talking gibberish, making up stories about men in black?

Ayman finally spoke, his voice shaky. “Nadir was kidnapped by men in black.”

Karim slammed the brakes momentarily, causing the car to jolt. “Kidnapped? By whom? What the hell are you even talking about?”

“Men in black,” Ayman said, his voice barely above a whisper. “They had guns. One of them had a pistol. They were inside that house. They were…” He paused, looking down at his trembling hands. “They weren’t normal, Karim. They were like ghosts.”

Karim let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Ayman, are you listening to yourself? Pistols? Men in black? Ghosts? You sound like you’re quoting some action movie. The cops told me the French embassy agents were involved. There was no report of any ‘men in black’ or guns. Just you being drunk and your wild imagination.”

Ayman turned to face his brother, his expression desperate. “No, Karim! They weren’t French agents! I know the French language. I’m not stupid!” His voice cracked. “They were speaking some other language, something I didn’t recognize. They weren’t there to help. They were dangerous.”

Karim stared at him, his mouth slightly open, trying to process the words. “Ayman, what language? Are you even listening to yourself? The report doesn’t mention any of this. You think everyone’s lying?”

Ayman leaned forward, gripping his knees as if trying to steady himself. “They weren’t lying—they didn’t see them! These men are dangerous, Karim. They…” His voice trailed off, his face contorted with fear.

Karim shook his head, his grip tightening on the wheel. “Ayman, stop it. You’re not making sense. You’re scared, fine, but this… this is madness.”

Aymen in tears again, he looks above and murmurs, "Me...Nadir...Money...Italy...Tonight!"

Karim slammed on the brakes, pulling the car over to the side of the street. The tires screeched, and the car jolted to a halt. He turned to Ayman, his face a mixture of fury and disbelief.

“What the hell did you just say?” Karim’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tense silence. “You’re telling me you left your kittens with Yasmin because you were planning to leave for Italy? Weeks, Ayman? How?! Illegally, like our father did?”

Ayman avoided his brother’s piercing glare, staring at his hands. “Yes,” he mumbled.

Karim gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. “And this… this was Farid’s idea? That bastard? I told you to stay away from him! How many times did I warn you about him? He’s trouble!”

Ayman took a deep breath, his voice trembling but steady enough to spill the truth. “Farid told me about the house and told me to scout it. He said there is a guy who was carrying a briefcase, always going in and out of the neighborhood, looking suspicious. He said there was money inside. A lot of it.”

Karim’s jaw clenched. “So, what? You just decided to team up with Nadir and rob him?”

Ayman nodded hesitantly. “We thought it was the perfect chance. We thought we would go in quickly, steal any money we find, and then go to the boat Nadir's friend prepared so we can go to Italy tonight!"

Karim rubbed his temples, trying to keep his composure. “And? What did you find? Was it worth throwing your life away?”

Ayman’s voice broke as he explained. “There wasn’t money. Just papers. A bunch of papers in some weird language. It wasn’t French, Karim. I swear, I know French. This was something else. And then…” He paused, his eyes wide with fear. “And then those men showed up all of a sudden. Men in black. They had guns, Karim. I swear I'm not lying.

Karim slammed his hand against the dashboard, causing Ayman to flinch. “I never heard of men in black having guns in Tunisia. But what the hell is wrong with you? You were ready to risk everything to go to Italy?

“I didn’t know it would end like this!” Ayman shouted back, tears streaming down his face. “I just… I just wanted to get out, Karim. Out of here. Away from this life!”

Karim’s anger softened slightly, but his disappointment was clear. “You think this is the way to do it? By stealing? By putting your life in danger?"

Ayman wiped his tears, his voice quieter now. “Whatever! I would never be like you anyway, and how the hell did you find me?"

Karim leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process everything. “Dangerous or not, you’ve put yourself in a mess that’s bigger than you can handle. You’re lucky you didn't steal anything. And it was Anis who warned about you. Wait, does Farid have a brother called Anis?”

"No, he doesn't have another brother, Nadir confirmed it to me. Ayman answered, then he asked, "Do you know about someone named Dark Caesar? And have you heard of Hitman?"

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Karim quickly answered with anger, "Hitman? Dark Caesar? Again with your fiction stories? Have you been watching too many movies lately? Only Caesar I know is Julius Caesar."

"Jul...what? Is he dark? Is he a hitman? Is he respectable like you? Maybe he can't pass Mister Perfect Policeman? Can I have the same respect?" Ayman keeps asking weird questions.

Karim gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles whitening as Ayman's questions made him angery. His voice trembled with anger as he barked, "Stop talking nonsense and tell me what the hell you mean, respect? You think running off to Italy, stealing from people, and hanging around with criminals will earn you respect? You're out of your damn mind!"

Ayman, already overwhelmed, snapped back, his voice rising. "At least there, I’d be someone! I’d be respected! Not stuck here, living in your shadow, listening to everyone talk about how great you are. 'Karim this, Karim that.' I’m sick of it!"

Karim's eyes narrowed as he turned to face his younger brother, his voice dripping with frustration. "Oh, so this is about me now? You think being compared to me is an excuse to ruin your life? You don’t have to be me, Ayman, but you sure as hell don’t have to be a thief either!"

Ayman's emotions boiled over, and he gestured wildly. "You don’t get it! You’ve always been the golden boy, the hero, the one everyone respects. But me? I’m nothing. I’m just the screw-up brother. No one even looks at me unless it’s to remind me how much better you are!"

Karim slammed his fist on the dashboard, his voice cracking as he yelled, "You think I don’t feel the pressure? You think I don’t have my own struggles? But I don’t use them as an excuse to destroy my life. You’re blaming me for your choices? Grow up, Ayman!"

The car fell silent for a moment, save for the faint hum of the engine. Both brothers were breathing heavily, the tension palpable.

Ayman finally broke the silence, his voice quieter but laced with pain. "You don’t understand, Karim. I’ve been trying to find my own way, to be my own person. But no matter what I do, it’s never enough. I’m tired of being invisible."

Karim sighed deeply, his anger softening as he looked at his younger brother, seeing the pain in his eyes. "Ayman, I’m not trying to overshadow you. I just want you to make something of yourself. Something real. Running away to Italy illegally, chasing some dream of respect and glory, is not the way. It’s dangerous. You’ll end up like…"

He trailed off, but Ayman finished the thought bitterly, "Like Father?"

Karim nodded, his voice heavy. "Yes. Like Father. He thought he was doing what was best for us, but he left us with nothing but pain. He left us when you were born; that's why you don't remember him. I don’t want to lose you too, Ayman."

As the tension between the two brothers reached its breaking point, Karim sat silently for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white. His anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer, something almost paternal. He turned to Ayman, his face lined with frustration but also a deep, unspoken love.

“You’re losing your way, Ayman,” Karim said, his voice steady but tinged with sadness. “You’re drowning in this darkness, in this anger. But…”

He paused, searching for the right words. “I hope… I pray that one day, through all the shadows you see now, you’ll find the light. No matter how far you’ve fallen, no matter how lost you feel, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Ayman, seething with anger and despair, couldn’t hold back. “Fuck your light, Karim! You think you’re better than me? You think your fucking lectures mean anything? Just go! Leave me alone!” Then Aymen gets out of the car.

Karim sighed deeply, the weight of Ayman’s words pressing down on him. “You don’t get it now. Come back in, please.” But Aymen refuses and walks away.

Without another word, Karim started the car. The engine roared to life, and as the headlights illuminated the road ahead, he glanced back at Ayman one last time. His face was shadowed, but his eyes carried an unspoken message—a mix of love, regret, and hope.

Then, he drove off, the taillights disappearing into the distance. Ayman stood there, shaking with rage and sorrow, tears welling in his eyes.

The cold air of the night was heavy with the feelings of anger and regret. Ayman staggered along the narrow road, his chest tight with pain. His breaths were shallow, his hand clutching at his chest as if trying to stop his heart from breaking apart.

“Fuck him,” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking with despair. “Fuck everything.”

His tears blurred his vision, but as he stumbled forward, something caught his eye—a glimmer of movement on the other side of the road. He froze, wiping his eyes hastily, and saw them.

It was him and Karim.

Two boys, no older than seven and ten, laughing, running, playing football. Karim’s voice rang out, clear and bright, untouched by the weight of adulthood. "Come on, Ayman! Pass me the ball!"

The younger Ayman, full of life and innocence, kicked the ball to Karim, and they laughed as it bounced off the uneven pavement. The sound of their joy filled the air, filling the empty tunnel with life.

Ayman’s breath caught in his throat. “What… What is this?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

He turned his head, searching for the source of this vision, but it was just him. Alone. When he looked back, the scene had shifted—Karim had his arm around Ayman’s shoulders, ruffling his hair as the younger boy laughed.

"You’re my little brother, okay? I’ll always protect you," Karim’s voice echoed from the memory.

Ayman’s knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest as sobs wracked his body. “Karim… I… I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean it…”

The vision faded, replaced by the cold, harsh reality of the empty tunnel. Ayman blinked through his tears, trying to focus. That’s when he heard it.

The roar of Karim’s car engine.

Ayman’s head snapped up just as Karim’s car barreled into the tunnel. The headlights cut through the darkness, but something was wrong. The engine was roaring too loudly, the car swerving slightly. Ayman screamed, "Karim! Stop!"

And then it happened.

The car exploded in a deafening roar, the blast shaking the tunnel and sending a wave of heat and debris toward Ayman. He was thrown backward, his body hitting the cold pavement.

“No!” Ayman screamed, scrambling to his feet. Flames engulfed the car, the fire dancing wildly, illuminating the tunnel in a horrifying glow. “Karim! No!”

He ran toward the wreckage, his voice hoarse with desperation, but his legs felt heavy, his steps slow. The smell of burning fuel and metal filled the air, choking him.

As he neared the inferno, a shadow emerged from the flames.

Ayman froze.

The figure was tall, cloaked in darkness, with no discernible features. It moved slowly, deliberately, stepping over the shattered remains of the car as if unaffected by the heat and chaos.

“Who… Who are you?” Ayman stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

The shadow didn’t answer. It just stood there, motionless, as the fire reflected in its outline, casting an eerie glow.

Ayman took a step back, his entire body trembling. His mind raced, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. His brother was gone—Karim was gone—and now this. This shadow, this harbinger of something he couldn’t understand, was all that remained.

“Karim…” Ayman whispered, tears streaming down his face as he fell to his knees, the weight of everything crushing him. The flames roared louder, and the shadow began to fade, consumed by the light of the fire.

Ayman was left alone, the image of the burning car and the shadow etched into his soul, a memory he would never escape.