Chapter 84: The Only Escape

Instantly, she threw away the receiver as if it scalded her, and her hands moved to cover her

hung-open mouth. Her eyes, wide-struck with shock, couldn't believe her ears.

It was him on the other side?

"Who-who is he?" she asked Dina, who was quickly picking up the receiver that Sheharzaad

had thrown.

"Mr. Shehryaar. The owner of this hotel chain," she told her, before answering him on the

phone.

Sheharzaad felt fear paralyzing her.

Owner of the hotel... Shehryaar.

And it made her realize the deep shit she was in. If it was his hotel, then it would be

impossible for her to escape from here. She damned herself for agreeing to this obnoxious

game in the first place. He only proposed those things in front of her, about which he was

sure that he would win. Rather, Sheharzaad thought, his clever, deceptive, and mafia mind

would make him win at everything he would do. And that thought made her feel more

restrained.

"He wants to talk to you," she told Sheharzaad, and she just shook her head.

"I d-don't wa-want to," she stuttered and ran away as if her life depended on it.

Her eyes moved left, then right, as she took a 360-degree turn and just saw people chilling

and enjoying, unaware of her predicament. Some were waiting on the sofas to get a room

assigned to them. Some were laughing, throwing jokes, while she looked disheveled. Paled

face, shaking limbs, bloodied hand, and glassy eyes. She could find nobody who could help

her.

It was Shehryaar's hotel.

She was struck. Badly struck.

Jolting life into her shaking legs, she dashed toward the main entrance. That was the first

thing that needed to be done—running away from this wretched hotel.

Upon reaching the entrance, she found big, bulky guards, who stopped her path. One of

them, she had already recognized, was assigned for her security outside the room.

"Sorry, madam, you can't go out," he spoke.

"Why?"

"Sir's order. He just called and asked to convey you. It was supposed to be within the four

walls of this hotel."

"Please let me go," she beseeched, "please! please! I'll be killed." With glassy eyes, she

pleaded, just a step away from joining her hands in front of them.

"We apologize," with a stoic face, he said.

And that was when a sob broke out through her lips as she placed her hands on her knees,

helplessly.

"It's a matter of life and death," she spoke again, straightening herself, hoping her pleading

would somehow move them.

They looked away as if she didn't stand there. They knew who their boss was. He could snap

the life out of them with one glance. One disapproving glance. And no sooner would they be

in a situation worse than this girl.

"Please help me hide, at least. Somewhere in this hotel, where I can hide. For the sake of

your mother, your family, your daughter. Anyone who is important to you. Please help me. If

you can't let me run, at least tell me where I can hide."

They exchanged glances with each other as if her speech had moved them.

"Fine. I'll tell you," one of them said.

And she smiled. Smiled with hope.

....

Rushing toward the elevator, she passed through the reception. She was looking at the floor

and not up when suddenly her body crashed into someone. The first thing her senses

detected was a certain type of perfume enriching her nostrils, and second, a white t-shirt

came into her vision as she slowly looked up, only to get her breath struck.

"Found you," a playful smirk on his lips.

Her heart suddenly and forcefully leaped to her throat.

'Was it over?' she thought.

She stared at him with nothing but raw fear, hoping he would give just one more chance to

run away, hoping he would say it was not over yet and she still had the chance to run away

and hide. She waited as if a criminal would wait for the judge to announce the verdict.

"Now shall we go back?" he asked, and frightened, she took a step back, whimpering. But

her arms were in his grip, which was gentle, not forceful, and he didn't let her move.

Her lips curled down in a pout. "L-let me run," she said and suddenly winced when a pain

shot through her finger that was slashed earlier.

His eyes moved down to her hands as he took her right one in his. They looked small in

front of his.

"Pass me a first aid kit," he told one of the girls who stood there and guided Sheharzaad to

the hotel lobby as they both sat on a secluded sofa.

The first aid kit was delivered, and he began to take the medicine out while applying it on

her hand. He noticed a tear appearing on her palm, and that made him look up, only to find

her cheeks streaked with tears. Her nostrils flaring in and out and throat heaving up and

down due to tiny hiccups.

"Do you still want to run?" With the back of his fingers, he cleaned her tears.

"Yes," her undeterred response came.

"Look up," he said, but already he was grasping her wobbling chin and moving her head up.

His voice was soft, but his eyes were still hard.

"Look me in the eye," he commanded and gawked fixedly into her eyes.

"I swear on my dead mother, Sheharzaad," her hand that was in his hold began to shake,

and he had just started speaking, "The only escape from me is death." He cleaned the blood

around her finger, "and if you want to keep running, well and good, but I too promise you

that, I'd make you unrecognizable once done with you." Bandaging her finger, he spoke

again, "So fix yourself while I'm giving you a chance," placing his thumb and forefinger

around her injured finger, he pressed it as a warning, making her wince. "Before I run out of

my patience," he finished and stood up.