Semua Bab House of Horrors Part 1 : Bab 61 - Bab 70

Who is Detective Tariq?A man of thirty-three, with sharp features that seem to never smile, and a medium build that belies the strength of a boxer accustomed to facing opponents in the ring as readily as he faces criminals in interrogation rooms. His height, nearly 177 centimeters, lends him an imposing presence, and his deep voice commands silence wherever he goes.A detective at the Supreme Court, Tariq is renowned for his unparalleled skill and audacity in handling the most serious cases. A fiery temper, sometimes reckless, he makes his own decisions and refuses to acknowledge any authority above his own. A bachelor, with no room for affection in his life, he hides behind cigarette smoke and releases his tension through his boxing gloves.That morning, Tariq's black car pulled up in front of the Supreme Court building. He sat behind the wheel, his face grim, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror where Malik and Dima lay unconscious, their wrists bound to the door handles like prey

Malik and Dima stood before the villa's gate.Malik pressed the doorbell, waiting. After a few moments, Miranda opened the heavy door and found Malik and Dima standing before her, their faces and bodies marked by exhaustion and the bruises of brutal beatings.He stepped aside silently, allowing them to enter. As soon as they crossed the threshold, she closed the door firmly, sealing off the night. Together, they moved toward the living room. Malik and Dima sank onto the sofa, their movements dull and uneasy, while Miranda remained standing before them, her eyes uncomfortably scanning their injuries."What happened to you on the floor?" Miranda asked."We were arrested by mistake... and then released.""I see... let me help you."Without waiting for a reply, Miranda disappeared into her room. Malik and Dima exchanged a long, heavy look—both were too drained to speak. Dima (whining): "I feel like my bones are shattered..."Moments later, Miranda returned, carrying a small box filled wit

Tariq swayed within the stifling darkness, breathing in the air so damp it felt as if the walls themselves were sweating with fear.The air screamed without a sound, pierced only by the scattered echo of his footsteps as he teetered between standing and falling—fighting phantoms that had no form until they suddenly materialized in the faces of Malik and Dima.His blind kicks tore through the blackness, striking nothing but the swirling emptiness that coiled around him like a living vortex,while countless phantom eyes multiplied in every corner, flashing and vanishing like shards from hell.He screamed with a hoarse, desperate rage, a voice that crackled like thunder in the void:"Come on... come at me!I'll tear you all apart!I am the Attorney General of the Supreme Court...I'll kill you, Malik, I'll kill you all!"His breath burned in his chest, mingling with the groans of the walls,which seemed closer, the tightening space between him and the shadows relentlessly churning. He st

Detective Mohammed and journalist Susan stood in the heart of an endless sea of ​​sand, shifting dunes melting into the darkness of night. The sky was choked with heavy clouds that obscured the moon, leaving only a faint glimmer of distant stars—small, unblinking eyes watching from afar.Mohammed stopped and turned slowly toward Susan. His voice came out dry and hoarse, raw with thirst: “We’re walking into nothingness… We don’t even know if this is the right path. We should stop, wait until morning. Perhaps then we’ll find a sign—something to follow.” Susan lowered her head, took a deep breath, her eyes shining with a mixture of unease and stubborn conviction: “But… the book says otherwise. It says that once you cross the mountain, you lose all control. Sheikh Shams al-Duhur is the one who guides your steps. Even when I took his heart for you, I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I did it. And even this path we’re on now—what made us choose it? Why not west or south?” Mohammed's brow fu

Entering the House of Shams al-DuhurSheikh Shams al-Duhur turned slowly, as if each movement were measured by time itself, and spoke in a deep, quiet voice that echoed through the surrounding air:"Come," Shams al-Duhur said.Mohammed and Susan rose from the ground, brushing away the layers of dust that had clung to them during their long journey across the desert, where every movement was muffled, mingled with the cold wind that swept in from outside.Shams al-Duhur walked toward the heavy wooden door, adorned with strange, dark brass carvings, which stood wide open like a mysterious invitation. It seemed as though he drew behind him an aura of solemn silence, a presence that made everything around him feel smaller and weaker—even in the night itself. He paused for a moment on the threshold, scanning the night sky, as if his eyes were examining every point of darkness before he stepped inside.Then he entered the house slowly, followed hesitantly by Susan and Mohammed. Susan's eyes