Amir Qadir, known to the world as Al-Ra’ib, leaned back in his chair, the faint glow of a laptop screen illuminating his sharp features. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the device and the occasional creak of the old wooden chair beneath him. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the desk, his expression thoughtful as he waited for the call to connect.

When the screen flickered to life, the image of a man appeared—a man Amir would never dare underestimate. Harrington’s face was sharp and cold, his silver hair neatly combed, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to drill through the screen. He wasn’t a man of wasted words or expressions. Every movement, every syllable, was calculated.

“Harrington,” Amir began, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

“You rarely call without reason,” Harrington replied, his voice calm but tinged with impatience. “What’s the situation?”

Amir hesitated for a moment, his usual confidence wavering. “It concerns the man you sent into my operation.”

Harrington’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t send anyone into your operation.”

Amir raised his hands slightly, a placating gesture. “Of course. Forgive my phrasing. The man who’s been dismantling the network. The one who’s now in my custody.”

Harrington’s expression didn’t shift, but his silence was heavy. Amir pressed on.

“He’s… unlike anyone I’ve encountered. Skilled, methodical, relentless. He tore through Mandali, Albu Kamal, and Dehloran with an efficiency that borders on surgical. And when I confronted him, I had to give him something.”

Harrington’s gaze sharpened. “What did you give him?”

“Your name,” Amir admitted, his tone measured. “I told him you orchestrated his mission, that you were pulling his strings.”

The silence on the other end of the call was deafening. Harrington’s expression remained unreadable, but the tension in his eyes spoke volumes.

“Explain,” Harrington said finally, his voice like steel.

Amir leaned forward slightly, his tone quickening. “He was going to kill me if I didn’t say something. But I used it to plant the idea that he’s just a pawn, that you’ve been controlling his every move. He believes it now, or at least he’s questioning it.”

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“That’s risky,” Harrington said coldly. “If he starts digging—”

“He won’t find anything,” Amir interrupted. “He’s not focused on you, not yet. He’s focused on me, and I’ll keep him there. But this man didn’t come out of nowhere. Someone sent him, and whoever they are, they knew exactly where to hit us. That’s the real threat.”

Harrington’s expression remained impassive, but his mind was racing. Marcus. The name wasn’t familiar, but the man’s actions had sent ripples through the delicate web of operations Harrington had spent years building. And now, Amir was confirming what he had already suspected: Marcus wasn’t acting alone.

“Who do you think is behind him?” Harrington asked, his tone deliberate.

“I don’t know,” Amir admitted. “He hasn’t said anything yet. But whoever it is, they’re moving pieces in ways that even I can’t predict. Mandali was wiped clean. Dehloran—the families. That wasn’t just revenge. It was erasure. Someone wanted this network gone, but not in a way that makes sense for rivals. It’s bigger.”

Harrington leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “I need you to make him talk. I need names, Amir. If someone is targeting my assets, I need to know now. Not later.”

Amir nodded quickly. “Of course. I’ll push him harder. He’s resilient, but no one’s unbreakable.”

“You’d better,” Harrington said, his tone icy. “If he’s tied to someone else, I need to know what their endgame is. Are they cleaning up loose ends? Or are they coming for me?”

Amir hesitated, then spoke carefully. “He’s disciplined. Highly trained. Whoever he’s working for, they didn’t send an amateur. But he’s not invincible. He’ll break eventually.”

Harrington’s lips curled into a faint sneer. “He’d better. If he doesn’t, this could spiral out of control. Other pieces are already moving, Amir. If this disrupts my broader plans—”

“It won’t,” Amir said quickly, though a bead of sweat traced down his temple. “I’ll handle it. He won’t leave this camp alive.”

Harrington’s piercing gaze bore into Amir through the screen. “Listen carefully. Once Marcus gives you the name of whoever sent him, you kill him. No hesitation, no delay. He doesn’t leave that cell breathing. Understood?”

Amir nodded, his throat tightening. “Understood.”

Harrington leaned back slightly, his tone shifting to something colder. “You’ve already let him get closer than I’m comfortable with. Don’t let this become a pattern.”

Amir swallowed hard. “It won’t. He’s contained.”

“For now,” Harrington said, his voice dark. “But if you fail, Amir, don’t expect me to clean up your mess.”

The line went dead, the screen returning to black. Amir sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Harrington’s words settling over him like a shroud. He wiped a hand across his face, the motion betraying his unease.

Marcus was dangerous. Amir knew that better than anyone now. But if Harrington was right—and Amir had no reason to doubt him—then the true danger lay in whoever had sent Marcus in the first place.

Standing, Amir straightened his jacket and strode toward the door. Marcus would break. He had to. And when he did, Amir would ensure that every trace of his presence was erased from the world.

Amir stepped into the hallway, his voice sharp as he barked orders to his guards. “Prepare the interrogation room. He talks tonight. No delays.”

As the guards snapped to attention and moved to carry out his commands, Amir’s mind returned to Harrington. The man’s cold, calculating presence was a constant reminder of the stakes. Marcus wasn’t just a problem—he was a test. And Amir couldn’t afford to fail.

Not with Harrington watching.