The last wolf of kot addu

The rain in Kot Addu smelled like rust and betrayal. Aiman Khan stood outside Central Jail’s rusted gates with nothing but a black cotton shirt, 500 rupees, and five years of rage burning in his chest. They said he was dead. The news channels said he ran away with 2 crore rupees of investor money. His own father said he was no longer a Khan. And she... she married his best friend Faraz the next month. Wore his ring. His name was Aiman Khan. CEO of Khan Industries. Forbes 30 Under 30. Now, he was just a number. Prisoner 44821. Five years. Five years for a crime he didn’t commit. Five years for trusting the wrong woman. A black Mercedes-Maybach rolled to a stop in front of him. The window tinted black rolled down two inches. “Mr. Khan,” the driver said without looking at him. “Ms. Areeba is waiting.” Aiman’s jaw locked. Areeba. Areeba Sheikh. His fiancée. The woman who kissed him goodbye the night before the FIA knocked on his door. The woman who testified against him in court. The woman who now ran Khan Industries as its new CEO. He got in. The leather seat was cold. It smelled like her perfume. Chanel No. 5. “You’re late,” he said. His voice was rough from not speaking for days. The driver didn’t answer. Because Aiman wasn’t talking to him. He was talking to the wolf inside him. The one they caged, beat, starved for five years. The one they tried to break. The wolf was home. And it was hungry. Kot Addu’s skyline looked different at night. Taller. Richer. Crueler. New glass towers where his father’s old factories used to be. Billboards with Areeba’s face. `Khan Industries. Under New Leadership.` The car stopped outside Khan Tower. 40 floors. His tower. His name was still on the plaque in the lobby. Someone had scratched `Ex-CEO` under it with a key. Aiman stepped out. The rain hit his face. It was warm. Game on. The lobby was empty at 11 PM. Security saw him and froze. “Mr. Khan... you’re...” “Alive?” Aiman finished. “Yes. Tell your boss I’m here.” He walked to the elevator. No one stopped him. Fear is louder than rules. The top floor. The CEO office. The doors opened with a soft hiss. She was standing by the glass wall, looking at the city. Black pantsuit. Hair tied back. No wedding ring. Interesting. She turned. Areeba. Five years had made her sharper. Colder. More beautiful. The kind of beautiful that cuts. Her eyes widened for half a second. Only half. Then the mask was back. CEO Areeba. “Aiman,” she said. No shock. No tears. “You’re out early.” “Good behavior,” he said, stepping inside. The door closed behind him. “And a very good lawyer. You should hire him.” She didn’t smile. “What do you want?” “My company back.” She laughed. One short, sharp sound. “You forfeited all shares. Court order. Remember?” “I remember you signing the papers.” He walked to her desk. Her desk. His desk. “I remember you on the witness stand. `Yes, Your Honor. He did it for the money.`” Her expression didn’t change. “I did what I had to.” “To survive?” He leaned on her desk. “Or to become CEO?” Silence. Only the rain on the glass. “Leave, Aiman,” she said finally. “Before I call security.” He straightened. “You won’t.” “How do you know?” “Because you want to know why I didn’t run. Why I came back.” He met her eyes. “And because you’re scared.” “I’m not scared of a man with 500 rupees.” “Good.” He pulled out a folded paper from his shirt pocket. Prison-issue paper. “Because the real thief is still out there. And he’s coming for you next.” He dropped the paper on her desk. It was a photocopy. Bank transfer. 2 crores. Date: One day before his arrest. Account name: F. Sheikh. Faraz Sheikh. His best man. Areeba’s eyes dropped to the paper. For the first time, her mask cracked. Just a little. “You’re lying,” she whispered. “Am I?” He walked to the door. “Check the account, Areeba. Check the CCTV from that night. Check why Faraz suddenly had money to buy 20% of Khan Industries the week I went to jail.” He paused at the door. “You married the wrong man. And you put the wrong man in jail.” The wolf had marked his first target. Outside, the rain fell harder. Aiman Khan didn’t look back. The war had started.