Rayyan's words, "You have to buy me ten minutes. Sing," echoed in Ishaal's ears. He was gone, a dark blur disappearing into the chaotic elegance of the gala, heading for the server room. She was alone on the secluded balcony, the centerpiece of a trap that was now springing early.
Her heart hammered, but a strange, fierce calm settled over her. This wasn't just about survival anymore. This was about her father. This was about the truth.
She walked to the microphone stand, her elegant black dress a stark contrast to the violence brewing beneath the surface of the glittering party. She tapped the mic. The sound echoed surprisingly loudly through the Hall's main sound system, momentarily silencing the polite chatter and the string quartet.
A hush fell. Hundreds of eyes turned to her, drawn by her sudden, unscheduled presence.
Ishaal met their gaze, her eyes scanning the faces, looking for the one man who would understand the truth hidden in her voice. Agha Sarfaraz Khan.
She began to sing. It wasn't the defiant jazz tune from the command center, nor was it the mournful lullaby. It was a haunting, powerful ballad, infused with the sorrow of loss but sharpened with an unyielding anger. Her voice, rich and resonant, filled the vast hall.
The lyrics began subtly, describing the hidden currents of power, the shadows that fed on the city. But then, her voice rose, clear and piercing, weaving the devastating truth of her father's research into the melody.
"Beneath the neon, where the deals are made,A parasite takes root, a debt unpaid.He chokes the water, he drains the light,Feeds on darkness, growing in the night.A system broken, a silent crime,Built on whispers, lost to time..."
As her voice soared, accusing and undeniable, Ishaal saw him. Agha Sarfaraz Khan. He was standing near the main entrance, a portly man in a silk suit, surrounded by two burly guards. His face, initially curious, twisted into a mask of pure, murderous rage as he recognized the coded accusations in her song.
He barked an order to his men.
Ishaal saw them move—not for the server room, but directly for her. The trap had worked. Agha was coming for the source.
She glanced at the laptop on the table. The "Parasite Network" file was still open. This was her chance. She kept singing, her voice unwavering, even as she reached out a trembling hand and hit 'ENTER' on the laptop. A subtle network pulse, unseen by anyone but her, was sent. A timed release.
"...His name unspoken, his truth untold,But a father's whisper, brave and bold,Revealed the venom, etched in every line,And the parasite's empire, will surely decline!"
The song ended on a high, defiant note, echoing through the suddenly tense silence of the hall.
Agha's guards were closing in. One was already scaling the balustrade to the balcony. Ishaal dropped the microphone, grabbing the laptop. She knew the file was now broadcasting. The ten minutes Rayyan had asked for were almost up.
"Get her!" Agha roared, his voice cutting through the stunned silence.
The first guard lunged, his hand outstretched, aiming for her throat. Ishaal swung the heavy laptop, connecting with his head in a desperate, clumsy blow. He staggered, giving her a precious second. She threw the laptop over the railing, hoping it would be found, hoping the data was irrevocably out.
The second guard was faster. He grabbed her, his hand clamping over her mouth, muffling her scream. He pulled her towards the edge of the balcony, clearly intending to throw her over or drag her away.
Just as her feet left the ground, a blur of black launched from the main staircase.
It was Rayyan.
He moved with savage grace, a cold, lethal weapon honed by years of Raabistan's shadows. He slammed into the second guard, pulling him off Ishaal with brutal force. A sickening crack of bone echoed through the Hall as Rayyan neutralized the man with terrifying efficiency.
He turned, his eyes blazing, a predatory fire that promised absolute destruction. He saw the first guard recovering, saw Agha's men swarming towards the balcony.
Rayyan pulled a silenced pistol from his tuxedo jacket. "No one touches her," he snarled, his voice a low, lethal promise. "No one."
He fired, two swift, precise shots, dropping Agha's remaining men before they could reach the balcony. Chaos erupted in the Grand Hall as the high-society guests screamed and scattered, their masks finally falling away in the face of raw violence.
Rayyan stood over Ishaal, shielding her with his body, his gaze locked onto Agha, who was now openly bellowing orders to the rest of his security detail.
"The data is out, Agha!" Rayyan yelled over the growing pandemonium, his voice ringing with triumph. "She sang your name! Your network is dead!"
Agha's face, a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred, promised a war that would consume Raabistan.