Chapter 92: Snapped

The black Rolls Royce was parked on the aviation ramp as he alighted the car, followed by

her. All fit in her shoes and able to walk. The plane came into her vision, followed by

guarded men whose faces were as stoic as that of a psychopath who had never experienced

any sort of emotion. Their eyes masked with ray-bans and hands holding snipers. Bodies

taut, jaws set, perfectly attentive. Her grey eyes were caught up analyzing them as she

continued to walk, but suddenly her foot struck the trolley that carried luggage and she fell

down, twisting her ankle again.

"Ahh," she winced, her palms rubbing against the rough ground.

The next second, her arm was caught in a vice-like grip, she was brought to her feet and

then she was in the air. His firm arms around her as he held her bridal style. Her arms

wrapped around his neck. Puzzled, she stared at him.

Second time.

This was the second time she had closely looked into his eyes. Under the sun, the grey

glimmered and the tuft of his thick lashes shadowed his cheekbones.

She quickly averted her lashes, afraid those feelings would return.

He quirked his brows in a questioning manner.

"You came here twisting your ankle, you are going from here," his eyes moved to her feet,

"twisting your ankle," and then connected with hers again.

Again, she looked away.

"I can walk," her voice was dry as she tried to struggle in his hold.

Moving his face closer to hers, he muttered, "Don't blush."

Her eyes widened and her hand that rested on his chest formed a fist. She threw a punch at

his chest. "What are you saying?" she seemed offended.

"Saying what I see," he said and began to walk.

"Put me down!" she commanded.

He suddenly stopped and then looked at her.

Which felt more like a glare...

She understood the meaning and let him take her to the plane, where again she occupied

the seat next to him. A doctor stood there, treating her twisted ankle.

The doctor, after treating her, went away, leaving them both alone when her eyes found

him.

"Why are you helping me now?" she asked, grabbing his attention as he focused his eyes on

her from his laptop. "Why now?" her voice toned down to a murmur. "You know, in that

moment, there was a little hope in me when I was begging for your mercy. A tiny hope that

you'd save me," a tear rolled down her eye as she laid on the large seat and her feet rested

on the seat in front of her. "It'd have grown if you'd not let me fall. But you know what you

did?" She wasn't looking at him but at her injured feet wrapped in white gauze, the nail of

her thumb had a little crack in it. "You killed that hope. Brutally, Shehryaar," she uttered and

heard no reply by his side.

He was quiet.

Have her words affected him?

"Sheharzaad,"

Her eyes drifted to him and he was already sauntering towards her with his laptop in his

hands.

"Sit," he commanded. His voice unyielding.

She remained rooted to her place. Shook and wide-eyed. "Sit up, baby girl," he was calm. Yet,

his demeanor screamed danger.

"What?" she whispered in confusion. Next, he placed the laptop on the table, followed by a

USB drive, and then held her arm so she could sit from her laying-down position.

She was shaken.

Next, he sat in the seat and dragged the table, followed by inserting the pen drive into the

port and playing a video.

He kept on playing videos, one after another. His hold on her arm was firm, holding her in

place. And even if he hadn't, she was so shaken to even move.

One after another, tears fell from her eyes. Her fingers intertwined as she held her hands as

if she were praying.

She was praying.

Praying for the torture to stop. Praying it was all a dream. Praying she would wake up.

And next, she threw the table away, landing the laptop on the floor in the process.

Bloodshed and gore was what she witnessed.

Just bloodshed and gore.

Dead bodies. Whips lashing. Blood spilled. Terror-filled eyes. Begging eyes. Crying eyes.

Joined hands. Throats slashed. Burnt bodies. Bodies deteriorated to limbs.

And screams.

Bone-chilling screams.

Cries.

Hiccups.

Her eardrum was pierced with that shrilling sound when her body was jolted, and then she

realized it was she screaming.

Her eyes opened and the pupils in them focused on him.

"They didn't have the privilege to get the second chance that was given to you." She realized

her chin was in his grip. Then her eyes traced him raising his brows. "Get on my nerves and

I won't hesitate to land you in a situation worse than them." Then she felt his breath

mingling with hers, their noses touching each other. "You know what's the difference

between you and them," a snicker was what she heard. "You've caught my eye, Shehryaar.

Or you'd have followed the same fate." Closer. She felt him getting closer. Their lips could

touch each other. "Every day and every night, what I dream of is you," now this time around,

it was a hiss and his hand was snaking against her waist, pulling her up. "Of fucking you raw

that you forget to walk," her lips were puckered out, his fingers digging into her cheeks.

"Forget to walk for days," his voice came out restrained as if he was controlling himself and

her mind absorbed in the position they were in. "To break you and mold you in the way I

want," his arms had tightened around her. "But that is you. The real you that had driven me

crazy." She was thrown on the seat and he was hovering above her. "If I hadn't thrown you

off that cliff and one more night, just one more night you'd have spent under the same roof

as I, then not even you could have stopped me from taking you against all those four walls."

He was talking as if something within him had snapped.

"Please stop," her lips shivered.

Her tremulous voice broke the darkness sprawling in his eyes.

"So next time you start whining again, remember those people." The intensity in his voice

changed.

"Please stop," her lips had turned white.

Shehryaar pulled her up and she scooted away, wrapping her arms around her knees. He

saw her rocking her body left and right. He stood up, yet his shadow hovered above her and

she further tightened herself.

Her heart pummeled as the feeling of unsafeness hugged her. After knowing his intentions,

her throat had tightened with dread.

"Sheharzaad," her eyelashes flew to him. "Be very scared of me. Very," he emphasized.

And she gulped.

Khaleda running in the back of her head.