Chapter 120: Merciless

She sucked in a sharp breath that managed to reach the depth of her throat when she

realized she had stopped breathing long ago. She was too scared to move that she didn't

wriggle against his grasp. Her skin felt a wetness on her face, so she moved her hand up and

realized it was her tears.

She exhaled a shuddering breath, partly due to her shivering lips.

"Get inside," she heard him say. She couldn't dare to look at him. Her neck couldn't move to

the side where he stood. Fear had her paralyzed. She knew she was in deep shit now. She

was caught. There was no escape. The silver lining was gone. It was the dead end she had

been fearing to face. Fear had paralyzed her. She couldn't see ahead. A thick fog had covered

her mind that put all her mental processes in jeopardy. She wished she could run away, but

now there was no corner in this world that would give her shelter. Shelter from the wrath

that was about to be bestowed upon her by the man who stood in front of her. She was

going to die. Die mercilessly at his hand. Because she knew he was not going to show her an

ounce of mercy.

He was a cruel bastard who only knew how to do things as he desired. He only regarded his

wishes. Even if those whims could destroy another person's life, he wouldn't back off. He

was twisted. Utterly twisted in his head. It was difficult for Sheharzaad to understand him.

To understand what could be going on in his mind in this moment. His face gave away

nothing. His expression was blank. He did not show any sign of anger. He was calm. As if he

wasn't about to pounce on her neck and break it. Because she knew sooner or later, this was

the fate that awaited her. His hand and her neck. He did not kill Khaleda to show

Sheharzaad his mercy.

"Shehryaar," she whispered.

He pulled away from her and gently turned her around. She was thankful the sight of

Khaleda's dangling feet was away, as her eyelids felt too heavy to blink or move. But her

thankfulness was short-lived as her face came across his.

Today, she wasn't holding back from expressing her fear as she just tried to take a step

away from him, but something in his eyes twitched. They turned a shade darker, and

instead of taking a step back, she took a step closer.

"I don't know wh-who i-i-is sh-she," her mouth opened as she spoke with difficulty.

"Please... p-p-please, believe m-me," she joined her hands in front of him when he moved his

head to the left. Through his peripheral view, he was looking at the door, and her eyes

followed his gaze as the door to her house opened wide, and a group of armed men marched

inside, holding a beaten guy by both his arms, dragging him inside. To his left accompanied

him an old man, who walked confidently. Upon registering Shehryaar's presence, he slightly

bowed his head in respect as everyone took their positions.

Another group of men entered, and this time they held a woman.

Sheharzaad saw the scene unfolding in horror. Her throat was beating as her heart now

resided there.

Her eyes suddenly widened upon registering who the badly beaten guy was.

Hannan.

And the woman was Amna.

While that old man was the same customer who wanted to buy this house.

She wasn't out of this shock yet when one of his gunmen headed towards Shehryaar and

handed over the same file she remembered sending to Khaleda. The file she stole from his

office. As she ran her eyes around, she spotted the guy whom she saw in the post office that

day, the one she had requested to send the file urgently to the address. She even witnessed

the taxi driver who dropped her at the post office that day. Her eyes moved around the

room again, and she felt she had seen these faces before. Those were the invincible people

who had infiltrated her neighborhood. The young guy who was famous in the colony for

helping others, the street vendor, the watchman, the new shopkeeper—people she would

never suspect were working for him—were there.

"Leave her! She didn't do anything!" Sheharzaad's surprise elapsed as Amna's scream

invaded her thoughts.

"Keep quiet, woman," the man who had grasped Amna gritted in a low voice, ordering her

with his eyes to be disciplined under his boss's presence.

"Leave her! Please!" she pleaded while screaming.

A gasp escaped Sheharzaad's lips when the man holding Amna tightly slapped her to shut

her up. Sheharzaad couldn't hold back and tried to run towards her when an arm snaked

around her stomach, stopping her dead in her tracks.

"Please let her go," Sheharzaad whispered urgently to him while looking at his face. "She

isn't well," And she was met with his cold stare.

A glance at Amna, and Sheharzaad could tell she was hyperventilating out of dread now.

"Leave her!" Amna screamed again. "Your boss is a bastard!" she cried out, and now her

throat was taken in a tightened grasp.

Sheharzaad's eyes widened to the size of saucers, protruding and jutting out. Her mouth

hung open in awe as she witnessed Amna's feet being lifted off the ground. She moved her

limbs similar to a fish out of water.

Her helpless eyes darted towards Shehryaar in a flash.

"Please," she pleaded, but he only poked his tongue against his cheek and ordered one of his

men to drag a chair for him. He occupied the chair, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a

silver case. With practiced ease, he flipped it open and selected a cigarette, then closed the

case and returned it to his pocket. He placed the cigarette between his lips and flicked a

match to life with his thumbnail.

Let the show begin.