Thriller Is money, sex and revenge such things that makes humans animals ?

[Naruto411]

Zainab lay in bed, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The cool night air filtered through the open window, but the warmth of Imran's body beside her sent a wave of both comfort and suffocation coursing through her. His hand rested possessively on her hip, a silent reminder of the power he held over her, a power that had bound her to him for so many years.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, his dark silhouette barely visible in the dim moonlight. Imran's grip tightened as if sensing her thoughts, pulling her closer, and Zainab fought the urge to recoil. She hated how much she had grown to rely on him, how he had shaped her life from their earliest days together. But more than anything, she hated the fact that, despite her resentment, there was a part of her that still craved his touch.

Imran shifted, his lips grazing the back of her neck. "You’re quiet tonight," he murmured, his voice low and taunting. "I thought you'd be happier to see me."

Zainab clenched her jaw, trying to steady her breath. "You need to stop coming here at night, Imran. Ayaan roams the house. He’s not a child anymore, and the last thing I need is for him to see you sneaking into my room."

Imran chuckled softly, rolling onto his side to face her. "Ayaan? That little brat? He won’t be a problem." His fingers traced lazy circles on her bare skin, his touch both familiar and unsettling.

Zainab tensed under his touch, a mixture of guilt and frustration building inside her. "He’s not a brat, Imran," she snapped, turning her head to face him. "He’s Rashid’s son, and you know what kind of trouble it would cause if he caught us. Rashid might not care much about Ayaan, but if he finds out—"

"Relax," Imran interrupted, his smile widening. "I have everything under control. Ayaan won’t be a problem, and Rashid? Well, let’s just say he has his hands full with other matters."

Zainab’s stomach twisted at his words. She knew better than to question him. Imran had always been one step ahead, always knew how to manipulate the situation to his advantage. But Ayaan was different. She had noticed the boy’s sharp eyes, the way he wandered the house late at night as if searching for something or someone. He wasn’t like Farhan, who remained blissfully unaware of anything beyond his own world. Ayaan observed, and that made Zainab nervous.

Zainab sighed, rolling onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. "You don’t understand. It’s different now. He’s older. He’s starting to notice things."

Imran shifted closer, his body pressing against hers as he whispered into her ear, "You worry too much, Zainab. Let me handle Ayaan. You’ve got bigger things to worry about." His lips grazed her neck, but Zainab’s mind was elsewhere.

She knew Imran was right about one thing: she did have bigger things to worry about. Every night he visited her, she felt more trapped, more controlled by the secrets they shared. Imran had been her partner in crime, her lover, her confidant, but he was also the man who held all the cards. She couldn’t deny the way her body responded to him, the pull he had on her even after all these years, but the price she paid for his touch was suffocating.

"Imran," she whispered, her voice trembling, "you need to be careful. I can’t risk Ayaan finding out."

Imran’s hand slid up her body, his fingers grazing the edge of her jaw as he tilted her face toward his. "You’re afraid of the boy?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it that made Zainab’s heart race.

"I’m not afraid," she lied, her eyes meeting his. "I’m just... concerned."

Imran’s grin widened, a flash of amusement crossing his face. "You’ve always been a good liar, Zainab." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing hers. "But don’t forget who controls this game."

Zainab’s breath hitched as he kissed her, her body responding even as her mind screamed against it. Imran’s control over her was absolute, and she knew it. But there was a growing fear in her—a fear that Ayaan’s presence in the house would unravel everything. She couldn’t afford for him to see the cracks in her perfect façade, couldn’t let him glimpse the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

As Imran’s lips trailed down her neck, Zainab forced herself to focus, her thoughts racing. "Promise me you’ll be careful," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Imran pulled back, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. "I promise," he said, but Zainab could hear the lie in his voice.

He didn’t care about Ayaan. He didn’t care about the risks. All Imran cared about was control—control over her, control over their secret world. And as much as Zainab wanted to believe otherwise, she knew that as long as Imran had that control, she would never truly be free.

---

Later that night, after Imran had slipped out of her room like a shadow, Zainab lay awake, her thoughts churning. She stared at the ceiling, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her chest. She had given so much to Imran—her loyalty, her body, her life—and in return, he had given her wealth, power, and security. But at what cost?

A faint sound from the hallway caught her attention, and she froze, her heart skipping a beat. The sound of footsteps—light, hesitant. Ayaan.

Zainab closed her eyes, willing the boy to go back to bed, to stay out of this tangled web she had woven. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before Ayaan saw the truth, before he realized the dark secrets that lurked within the walls of their home.

And when that day came, Zainab feared she would lose everything.