Ababeel froze at the sight of Habeel sprawled on the ground, his body unnaturally still. Panic surged through her chest, and Janneh clutched at her sleeve, small fingers trembling. The dim glow of the campfire cast long shadows across the clearing, and in those shadows, Abdullah loomed—his face unreadable at first, then curling into a slow, predatory grin.
He crouched near the edge of the firelight, voice low and smooth, almost teasing. "Well… seems your protector has gone to sleep for a while," he murmured, eyes glinting with something dark. "Who will save you two now?"
Ababeel's heart pounded, every instinct screaming danger. "Habeel isn't gone," she spat, voice sharp, trying to mask the trembling in her chest. She stepped protectively in front of Janneh, arms instinctively curling around the little girl.
Abdullah laughed softly, a low, chilling sound that seemed to echo off the trees. "Ah… come now. Don't look so scared," he said, leaning back slightly, letting his gaze linger on Ababeel a fraction too long. "I'm… being nice. I even made tea for you. You should appreciate it."
Ababeel's eyes narrowed, fury sparking in her chest. "Stop. Back off," she said firmly, taking another protective step toward Janneh.
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "Pretty as you are… It's natural to think about what could happen. In times like these… It's survival. Don't tell me you've never thought about it yourself."
Ababeel's hands clenched. "You're sick," she spat, voice sharp enough to cut through the night air. "And you're not touching either of us!"
Abdullah chuckled again, dark and slow. "Ah, brave. I like that. But tell me… really—who will stop anything from happening now? Your hero's long gone, isn't he?"
Janneh whimpered softly, hiding behind Ababeel. Ababeel's chest tightened as she tightened her protective stance, glaring at Abdullah with all the fire she could muster. "I don't need him to stop you. Don't test me," she said, teeth gritted. Her voice trembled with anger and fear, but her eyes burned with defiance.
Abdullah's grin widened, a predator enjoying the pause, savouring the fear mingled with defiance. "Oh… I do love that fire," he murmured, letting the words hang in the cold air, "but don't think it's going to keep you safe forever."
The forest was silent around them, except for the faint crackle of the dying fire and the ragged breaths of the two women. Habeel remained on the ground, unconscious, a dangerous reminder of how easily things could slip out of control. Ababeel's mind raced—how to protect Janneh, how to get Habeel back on his feet, how to survive the night with a man like Abdullah watching their every move.
Every instinct screamed that this was only the beginning, and that Abdullah's "kindness" was a trap layered with something far more sinister.
The fire crackled weakly, barely throwing enough light to keep the darkness at bay. Abdullah took one slow step closer, the predatory gleam in his eyes growing sharper. Ababeel felt Janneh press into her back, tiny fingers digging into her shirt in fear.
"Don't come closer," Ababeel warned, voice shaking but fierce.
Abdullah smirked. "Or what? Will you scream? There's no one out here but us. And your protector—" he gestured lazily toward Habeel's unconscious body, "—isn't going to wake up anytime soon. Tea tree is… effective."
Rage burned under Ababeel's skin. He poisoned him.
Abdullah moved again. Too close. Too calm.
Ababeel's breath hitched. She backed up, shielding Janneh. "Stay behind me," she whispered urgently.
But Janneh—six years old, small and silent—was braver than anyone expected. Her little hand slipped away from Ababeel and disappeared behind the crates.
Abdullah's eyes flicked after the motion. "Where's the little one going?" he murmured.
Ababeel stepped into his line of sight fast. "Don't look at her. Look at me."
He smiled, slow and hungry. "Gladly."
He lunged.
Ababeel shoved him back with both hands, adrenaline surging through her veins. Abdullah stumbled but didn't fall—he laughed, breathless, amused by her attempt.
"You think you can fight me?" he taunted. "You think you can stop—"
A sharp crack cut through the air.
Something slammed into Abdullah's arm. Hard. He yelped, turning sharply—
—only to find little Janneh standing there, holding a wooden stick nearly as tall as she was. She had tears in her eyes, her tiny body trembling—but her grip did not loosen.
She hit him again.
Harder.
This time, the stick struck his ribs with a crack that echoed into the trees.
Abdullah's face twisted in shock and anger.
"You little—!"
He reached for her.
Ababeel's scream tore from her throat. "JANNEH!"
But Janneh stepped back fast and swung the stick like she'd watched Habeel do earlier that morning—both hands, full force, straight at Abdullah's knee.
He collapsed to one side with a pained grunt.
Ababeel pounced. She grabbed a burning log from the fire with her bare hands wrapped in her scarf and swung it at him. Flames streaked through the air as she struck his shoulder, driving him back.
Abdullah roared, backing away, stumbling toward the trees.
"You two— you're dead—both of you!"
"Get away from us!" Ababeel shouted, holding the flaming log between them.
Janneh climbed behind her again, panting, terrified but defiant, clutching her stick as if it were a sword.
Abdullah spat on the ground, clutching his injured knee and shoulder.
"This isn't over," he hissed. "As long as he's out," he jerked his chin toward Habeel's unconscious form, "you're vulnerable."
Ababeel didn't blink. "If you come near us again," she warned quietly, fiercely, "I will kill you."
Her voice did not shake.
Not once.
Abdullah sneered, eyes narrowing with malice.
"You'll regret this," he spat.
Branches snapped behind Ababeel before she even had time to breathe relief. A hand shot out of the darkness and snatched her wrist, twisting it so sharply she cried out in pain.
Janneh screamed silently—no sound, just a raw, terrified gasp—and launched herself at Abdullah with her tiny fists, punching his side, his back, anything she could reach.
"LET GO OF HER!"
Her blows were small but frantic, wild with fear.
Abdullah snarled, tightening his grip on Ababeel's wrist until she felt something crack. Pain pulsed up her arm, white-hot. He shoved Janneh aside with his elbow, sending the little girl stumbling into the crates.
Ababeel's vision swam.
Her heart raced.
He dragged her closer.
"With him gone," Abdullah hissed, breath hot and foul, "you'll learn to listen."
His other hand came up—slow, deliberate—and he touched her face, fingers sliding across her cheek in a sickening, possessive caress.
Ababeel flinched, disgust flooding her chest, bile rising in her throat.
"Don't—touch—me—" she choked out.
His grip tightened on her jaw. "You should be grateful—"
He didn't finish.
Because in the next instant, his entire body was yanked backwards so violently he nearly lifted off the ground.
A hand—large, iron-strong—had grabbed his collar from behind.
Abdullah stumbled, twisting, and found himself staring into Habeel's eyes.
Eyes blazing.
Eyes that promised death.
Habeel's breath was ragged, his skin still pale —but his fury burned hotter than fire.
Abdullah barely had time to say a word before Habeel slammed his fist into his face with a crack that echoed through the clearing. Blood sprayed from Abdullah's nose as he fell backwards onto the ground.
Ababeel collapsed onto her knees, holding her twisted wrist, gasping—but her eyes never left the two men.
And Janneh rushed to her, hugging her tightly, trembling violently.
Habeel stalked toward Abdullah, each step radiating raw, lethal intent.
"You touched her," he growled, voice low, shaking with rage. "You touched her."
Abdullah spat blood and scrambled to his feet, grabbing a nearby branch like a weapon. "She's mine now—your time is done!"
"Not in this lifetime," Habeel snarled.
The fight exploded.
Abdullah swung the branch in a wide arc, but Habeel ducked low, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and drove his knee into Abdullah's stomach. Abdullah doubled over with a choked sound—but swung again, hitting Habeel's shoulder hard enough to stagger him.
Habeel grit his teeth through the pain, caught the branch mid-swing, and ripped it out of Abdullah's hands. He snapped it clean in two over his knee.
Abdullah lunged at him, pure desperation fueling him.
They crashed into the dirt, rolling, punching, kicking—
A chaotic blur of fists and fury.
Habeel pinned him, but Abdullah clawed at his face, fingers aiming for his eyes. Habeel grabbed his hand mid-air and twisted until Abdullah screamed.
"You laid your hands on her…" Habeel hissed, breath hot with rage.
"You threatened a child…"
His fist slammed into Abdullah's jaw.
Again.
Again.
Abdullah's head hit the ground, dazed.
"…and you tritotopoisoned me."
Abdullah tried to rise, but Habeel drove his forearm into his throat, pinning him with cold, merciless force.
Ababeel watched, clutching Janneh tightly, breath shaking—but this time from relief and terror mixed.
"Habeel…" she whispered, voice trembling.
But he didn't hear.
He was gone—lost in the fury that had been burning inside him since the moment he woke up.
Abdullah gasped, choking under the pressure. "S-stop—"
"No," Habeel growled.
"You don't get to say stop."
The night swallowed the sound of their struggle, the fire flickering wildly as if recoiling from the violence.
It was clear:
This wouldn't end until one of them couldn't stand again.
Abdullah thrashed under Habeel's weight, but the forest floor was uneven, and Habeel was fueled by pure, explosive fury. A punch cracked across Abdullah's jaw, another into his ribs. Abdullah swung back wildly, landing a hit on Habeel's shoulder, but it only seemed to sharpen Habeel further.
They rolled, dirt flying, dry leaves snapping under their bodies. Abdullah tried to claw his way out, but Habeel's elbow pinned him, his knee crushing his arm to the ground. One last twist—and Habeel overpowered him completely.
With a rough yank, Habeel dragged Abdullah toward a broken tree trunk, using a torn strap from his bag and leftover rope from their supplies. He tied Abdullah's wrists, then his ankles, pulling each knot tight with practised precision.
Abdullah hissed through his teeth, defeated but still vicious.
He spat to the side, glaring up at Habeel.
"How… how did you not die? I put enough in that food to kill a bull."
Habeel wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and smirked.
"I'm not an idiot. Not after last time's experience, I can smell it from a mile away"
His eyes narrowed. "The smell gave you away."
Abdullah froze—his confidence cracking.
Habeel stepped back, breathing hard, then pulled the knife from his boot. He turned, walked to Ababeel, and placed it gently in her hand.
His voice dropped—calm, controlled, and terrifyingly steady.
"He is your culprit, not mine."
Abdullah's face paled.
Ababeel felt her throat tighten, Janneh clinging to the hem of her shirt with trembling fingers. The night air was cold, but a deeper chill settled between them—one born of justice, fear, and choice.