Chapter 131: Kill or Die

Her eyes ran over the content of the page, widening further as more tears spilled from her

eyes. Rage took over her, and she forgot who was in front of her. A sob escaped her throat,

knowing how cornered and helpless she was. In the end, whatever was mentioned in the

contract was supposed to happen. It was inevitable. But she refused to accept it as she

looked up with enraged eyes, pushing back the hopelessness that was clawing at her mind.

"You and your contract can both go to hell. I'd never agree to this!" she spat, venom in her

voice. Her state was disheveled, her messy hair showing how often he’d roughly gripped it.

Her lips were slightly split on one side, indicating his harsh slaps whenever she

disrespected him, and her voice was croaky yet defiant, reflecting her bone-crushing sobs

and wails whenever she was alone in this warehouse.

"My Sheharzaad," he said pensively, his eyes focused on hers. His voice was dark. His aura

was darker. And his eyes, the darkest. The way he uttered her name screamed danger,

signaling that he had come up with something psychotic. Something dangerous. Something

with the power to shake her to her roots. His voice scared her.

"My Sheharzaad," he uttered again, his voice dropping notches lower.

A fire of fear erupted in her heart as her name rolled off his tongue so smoothly, alerting her

that his sadistic mind was up to something.

He stood up and moved toward her, causing her to instantly turn her head to the side,

manifesting her disdain for him. Reaching her, he roughly pulled her head back and dug his

fingers into her cheeks, causing her lips to pucker out. He moved closer and closer, until his

face was parallel to hers.

Then his features morphed, unlocking the real demon inside him, causing her heart to beat

erratically as the mask of her strong facade began to slip.

His eyes showed a glint of anger.

While hers were trying, somehow, to express calmness and fearlessness.

The lethal and pure combination of grey against grey.

"It's totally up to you if you don't want to agree," he said.

His lips smirked—a cold, evil smirk, which was enough for her to know he was up to no

good.

Grabbing her hair at the nape of her neck, he placed his knee between her legs and moved

his lips closer to her ear.

"But I'll kill that friend of yours," he whispered, and a lone tear escaped her eye.

'No!'

"I won’t be your mistress," she managed to whisper, though fear and shock were gripping

her heart painfully, clenching it tight.

"And you will leave from here either dead or as my personal escort, Sheharzaad," he

deadpanned.

"Kill me!" she cried out now, desperation in her voice. "Please, please kill me!" she sobbed.

"Given up so easily?"

"Yes. I don’t want to live. Death is better than this life full of humiliation! Please kill me!" She

was so desperate that her head hung low as she sobbed.

He smirked. "Death would be a gift for you," he said, then barked to the men stationed

outside the cell, "Bring him in!"

The door opened, and a badly beaten Hannan was brought inside.

\---

The gun in her shivering hands, her pleading eyes staring at Shehryaar, begging him not to

make her go through the ordeal. Her hands were still shaking from the prior two bullets that

had left the nozzle and penetrated Hannan’s shoulder and abdomen. He was on the verge of

death, with only one last bullet left in the revolver.

She had been given a choice to either shoot one of those three bullets directly into his heart

or brain or fire all three bullets one by one into his abdomen. She tried, raising the gun,

aiming at his heart, and Hannan’s subtle nod made her close her eyes as she fired above his

heart, which hit his shoulder.

Blood began to spurt from the wound. He was already dwindling in and out of

consciousness, having been poorly beaten, especially in the areas of his hands and his lips.

His hands—the ones that dared to touch her.

"I swear, Shehryaar, I wasn’t involved with him," she said for the umpteenth time. Despite

him shoving those videos in her face and the witnesses, she made a futile attempt to deny it

and change his mind.

She was never involved with Hannan.

"Do as I have said," he ignored her cries.

"Fine, it was me who approached him... it was never him," she cried out.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise.

The nerve.

The audacity.

'She is protecting her lover in front of me.'

"Do as I fucking said!" he snapped, and she flinched, nodding.

Her shivering hands rose again, and she could only shoot at his lower abdomen as he had

mentioned. She was to shoot Hannan in another area in his abdomen if she was not

interested in killing him. The rest, he would do himself.

The task of brutally killing him with his own hands.

With the third and last bullet, if he didn’t die by her hands, she would hand his fate over to

Shehryaar, who would kill her with his bare hands in front of her. That was what he had

promised.

Her entire body was now drenched in sweat.

Shivers.

Tremors.

Tremors of terror rocking her.

Her lower jaw was trembling uncontrollably. The adrenaline level was so high that every

now and then, a series of goosebumps would rise over her skin, and shivers would pass

through her spine. Her limbs had no energy left in them.

The gun itself was so heavy, and her hands couldn’t hold it anymore. He placed one of his

hands on the gun to support her, his lips next to her ear. Both of them looking towards

Hannan—one with hawk-like assured eyes and the other with fear-filled eyes.

"Please don’t make me do this," she whispered for his ears only, "please."