“Is everything OK, Harun?” My leg quivered as I approached him, concern etched on my face.

Harun’s expression was a mask of pain and worry as he dropped the phone to his side and slumped against the wall. “They found my address at the hospital. They threatened to kill my colleagues if they didn’t give it up,” he stammered. “They have my wife and son.”

I placed a trembling hand on his shoulder, trying to lend him support. I understood his anguish more than anyone else could. “We have to go, Merisha. I have to save my family,” he said, mustering determination despite the despair in his eyes.

“We need to try and negotiate with them, Harun. We have to attempt a peaceful resolution. After all, you’re in this mess because of me,” I replied, hoping to provide some comfort and reason.

Harun abruptly stormed out of the door, seemingly unaffected by the recent accident. I followed him outside, limping from the pain in my back. It was hard to say which was worse —the agonising ache or the headache that pounded relentlessly like a war drum.

“How will we find them?” I called out, my voice lost in the heavy air.

“They’re holding them captive in our house,” he snapped, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun at his side.

We stood on the side of the road until a white Honda Civic pulled up at the traffic light. Harun approached the car, an unthinkable resolve in his eyes. He tapped on the woman’s window and pointed his gun at her. She opened the door without hesitation, and Harun gently removed her from the car, like a parent freeing their child from a car seat.

I watched as the woman stood by the roadside, wiping a tear from her eye. Her heartache was palpable. “Why would you do such a thing?” I shrieked at Harun, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. “How could you hijack that poor woman?”

“Do you have a better idea?” he retorted, his tone razor sharp, cutting through any argument I might have conjured.

Harun sped through the traffic as the sky grew darker and thunder rumbled ominously. Raindrops started to fall, blurring the windshield. The wipers moved like tireless arms, offering us a distorted view of the road ahead. Harun maintained his speed.

“It looks like rain,” he said calmly, the tension in his voice subsiding.

“No shit,” I muttered, my unease mixing with sarcasm.

“I’m sorry about before, Merisha. I know you’d do the same for your family.”

I wanted to tell him that I would never resort to hurting someone else to protect my loved ones. But then I thought of my daughter — the way her smile lit up a room, the warmth of her embrace — and the fear of losing her terrified me. I understood the depths we could sink to to protect the ones we love.

“I understand, Harun. But promise me you’ll return the car and apologise to the lady for taking it, even if it won’t make much difference,” I said, hoping to remind him of his moral obligations.

“I promise,” he said, a smile that concealed a thousand secrets gracing his face.

Like the sudden opening of a shower faucet, rain poured from the sky. Harun brought the car to a halt and parked on the side of the road, facing a house that could dwarf an entire row of homes in my neighbourhood. He peeked out of the car and noticed an open curtain, revealing a face behind the glass. The smile on that face curdled my blood.

“They have my family,” Harun bellowed, and without a moment’s hesitation, he threw open the car door, gun in hand, and sprinted towards his house.

I noticed a row of cars parked across the street, their windows tinted to conceal the faces within. Panic surged through me, and I limped behind Harun, desperately trying to catch up. But he was too fast, bursting through the front door of his house before I could reach him.

“Harun!” I called out, my voice a plea, but there was no reply.

I approached the front of the house, the door closed, giving away no secrets. Suddenly, a deep voice behind me startled me. I turned to find two men, their frames taught with muscle, their presence too familiar and chilling.

“Harun,” I cried out, my voice plagued with desperation.

As darkness descended with the sinking sun, I wanted to scream and call out to him once more. But all that filled the air was the deafening sound of a gunshot.

Harun…

Tell us: Why do you think these men are hunting Merisha?