Chapter 121: Threat

The flame illuminated his chiseled features as he drew in a deep breath, the smoke curling

around his face. He held the cigarette between his fingers, the smoke wafting up towards

the ceiling. He exhaled slowly, a thin stream of smoke escaping his lips.

He remained indifferent to Amna's breathlessness and Sheharzaad's begging. The whole

room was filled with her wails and cries. His eyes cursorily moved around, and he was

satisfied when he found the gazes of his men fixed on the floor.

"Please, Shehryaar. Please!" Sheharzaad begged, and he puffed out smoke before arching a

brow at her, giving her the attention she so desperately needed at that moment.

He looked at Sheharzaad—her pleading eyes, her shivering body, her begging lips, and tear-

streaked cheeks. She looked helpless. Utterly helpless. And he wanted her to feel that way.

He wanted her to die out of the fear he was going to instill in her. Because this time, she had

stepped out of the line he had set for her. Rather, she had not just stepped out but crossed

that line and had gone far beyond the limits she was bound to remain within.

He relished witnessing her writhing in pain because the time had arrived for her to know

her place and how she was supposed to be when her name was associated with him.

He had not even started, yet she was already wailing, begging, pleading, and crying. Her

reaction made him wonder how she would sustain what he had saved for her. Currently, she

was begging mercy for her friend, but soon enough, she would be on her knees begging for

mercy for herself. Soon she would be a walking dead body—a corpse. He would steal her

will to live, that spark in her eyes, and that courage in her brain that encouraged her to go

against him. He would lock her in a shell from which she would never dare to emerge. Then

she would never even think of stepping beyond the limits he had set for her. Soon enough,

she would realize her worth—and his power. What she was and how she was supposed to

be.

"She will die. Please ask him to let her go. Please, she will die," she pleaded again, but he

moved his eyes away and again fixed the cigarette between his lips, grasped between his

middle and forefinger.

When he didn't listen, she went on her knees and joined her hands in front of him. He

uncrossed his legs and stared at her. "Please, Shehryaar!" she sobbed. "Please, she will die.

L-l-let her go. I beg you." Her pleading eyes caught his attention. They were wide, sparkling

with tears and a ray of hope that he could see was diminishing as Amna's screams were

escalating. Her pouted lips, shivering badly, kept exhaling shuddery breaths. She placed her

hand on his knee, and her helplessness grew.

"She will die, Shehryaar. Please let her go," she whispered earnestly. "Please," she breathed

out. "Please," she repeated. "Please. I beg you. She is not well. Please, she is innocent. Please,

I beg you. Please, Shehryaar. Please, I beg you. It was my fault," she cried out.

This was when his eyes unlatched from hers and drifted toward the man who had Amna's

neck in his hold. Ordering him with his gaze, his eyes shifted back to Sheharzaad.

Her face immediately darted toward Amna when it was taken in a vice-like painful grip and

turned toward him.

His free hand held her face while the other held the cigarette. Leaning toward her, who was

on her knees, he moved the cigarette closer to her, and with the burning side, tucked her

hair away from her face. She hissed when the hot ashes fell on her skin, almost burning her.

His eyes glimmered with a dark glint as he pressed the cigarette against the dainty skin of

her neck, making her flinch and subsequently hiss. She took what he was giving her. A red

blemish formed as he pulled the cigarette away and crushed it under the sole of his shoe

before her throat was captured in his grip.

The pad of his thumb landed, on purpose, exactly where he had burnt her skin. His lips

descended toward her shivering ones and seized them with a kiss. Holding her throat, he

pulled her up and kissed her intensely until she was out of breath.

Her throat, being tightened by his grip on one hand, and her lips, blocked by his, made her

quickly breathless. She began to beat at his chest, but he didn’t budge. When she was on the

verge of losing consciousness, he finally pulled away. A thick slick of saliva connected their

lips as he brushed his mouth against hers one last time.

"You told me you wouldn’t touch me u-until our marriage," she whispered, noticing his lips

twitching into a smirk.

"Because there is not going to be any marriage, Sheharzaad," he responded, stealing her

breath. She didn’t get the chance to process his words as his eyes shifted from hers to

Hannan, and his irises darkened, making her breath hitch.

She became aware that he didn’t have good plans for Hannan.

"He has no fault. He j-just... h-h-h—" she stuttered, stopping as she realized the flame of

anger fueling his eyes. In an instant, they left Hannan’s beaten form and fixed upon hers.

With his eyes set on her, he flicked his first two fingers and ordered one of his men, who

immediately acted. Next, Sheharzaad began to hear Hannan’s ear-piercing screams.

She tried to look back, but his words entered her ears. "Move your pretty little head more,

and I won’t hesitate to empty my revolver."

The threat.

She felt it.

Her whole body felt it.

And she almost froze. Her head remained where it was, not turning back completely to its

prior position. Her body almost getting paralyzed with the fear she felt in her bones. Chilling

her to bone marrow.