She held her breath, awaiting him.
She had questions for him, so many questions for him.
She was thrilled to meet him again but a little distressed too.
What was she going to say to him? How will she react when she sees him again?
She sat there, reliving the past and everything that had happened, that carved its imprints and scars on her—the wounds that were engraved on her skin, buried too deeply in her soul to be forgotten so easily.
“Leave me alone, Nike!” 16-year-old Hayat cried while the guy named Nike tossed her on the bed, hovering above her.
“Shut the fuck up, you slut!” He pinned her hands above her head, tying her both wrists to the headboard tightly. She twisted her hands, her wrists frictioning against the cuffs but her efforts were all in vain.
He was too strong, his hold was too strong, the cuffs were too strong, the anxiety, the fear, the ruin, the doom—everything was too strong.
She could do nothing to save herself, her dignity, her pureness. His hands roamed her body as if she was his property, his damn asset to use and toss.
She screamed for help but no one came. Everyone—all those guards and assassins were in the building, hearing her screaming—dying for help, enjoying her helplessness.
“Please, Nike... No,” She squirmed beneath him, he buried his face in her neck, biting her skin.
She cried, tears flowing through her eyes endlessly, her breaths ragged and short, her stomach flapping due to the fear, forming knots that only intensified with each passing second. It was nauseating, disgusting, and absurdly horrific.
No matter how much she tried, how loud she screamed, how high her cries were for help. Nobody came to her rescue.
He tore her clothes away, ripping her off of her pride, laying her bare under himself. His hands touched, gripped, squeezed, and tortured every part, every inch of her skin, of her body—the body and skin she tried to protect all her life, the body and skin which were her pride, her safe treasure, her to own, her to wear, her to have, her to cherish, her to look at—was now in someone else's hands, someone else's mercy, someone else's property, being ruined, scarred, tortured and destroyed in the most horrible, terrible, and disgusting way.
When she didn't shut up from his dominance, he used his knife to make her. He made a scar on her skin, just below her collar bone, tearing the skin apart as her neck and shoulder were bathing in her blood, red and bruised while he continued to torment her, quashing her hopes.
Her screams now faded to inaudible gasps, small silent attempts to break free.
He was about to take his desire to the very core. He was just at the moment, and she thought it was the time she let go of her last hope. There was no saving, no rescue now.
Just then, he came.
The door burst open. She looked at him with eyes still pleading to be saved, despite not knowing him even a bit.
“What the hell are you doing, Nike?” He marched at him, dodging himer off her and throwing him on the ground.
While Nike recovered from the sudden invasion and his almost broken knee, he untied her hand, covering her with the blanket, not once looking at her, not once lifting his gaze.
“What the fuck?” Nike stood on his feet, his blue, demonic eyes flaring at AK, ready to kill him but he could do nothing, knowing AK was capable of making his existence disappear from the world like he never existed, knowing that AK was his boss's son—a son who was a hater of his father.
“Get out, Nike,” AK gritted his teeth, ordering with much emphasis and authority.
“Or what?” Nike challenged, walking up to him, trying to stand out but the crack in his voice gave away his resistance.
“Or you'll have a meeting with your fucking ancestors in the fucking hell, today itself,”
Nike smirked, the sarcastic, defeated glim on his face evident. He grabbed his T-shirt from the floor, throwing it over his half naked body as he exited the room without a word.
After three months:
The car stopped in front of the airport. He escorted her out, taking out her small suitcase from the back seat afterward.
He led her into the airport, handing her the passport and a few other authorized, important documents.
She read the name which wasn't hers. Frowning, she brought her gaze up to him confusingly.
“I have changed your name. You're not what you were anymore. You will be a different person, living a different life,” He explained to her calmly, but his words were hastened, rushed.
“I need to leave. But no one will find you here, at least not till the time you are out of this country,” He assured her.
She looked at him, her lower lips quivering, holding herself back to not cry. He was a stranger, a stranger who had no business with her, no benefit in helping. Instead, he was risking his life, betraying his father's trust, and his clan's rules—all for her.
Without asking for anything back.
Why? Just why?
Because he had the humanity his people didn't.
She had no voice to form words. All those screams and cries had muted her. Her helplessness, her reality, and her imprisonment had muted her.
She thanked him through the tear-filled eyes, not saying a word but still saying everything.
His lips stretched into a smile– a reassuring, comforting smile.
“Don't come here ever again,” He had told her before he bid his goodbye.
And just like he said, no one had come after her till she boarded the flight.
Since then, she had sworn to herself to not use her old, real name. She used ‘Hayat’ only, even when she referred to her past self. Her real name was gone along with her father, her family, everything and everyone she held close to her heart. What only remained was her, and her reality—her dark, suffocating, and terrible reality.
She stared into the distance, thinking about that day when she successfully escaped from the place.
And he was the reason.
She heard the heavy footsteps coming towards the room.
She turned her face to the doorway, leaning over just a little to have a better look as her heart dropped a beat.
A faint darkness began to creep into the view.
It was his shadow, it was him. He was here.
She sucked in a breath, his presence so resonant, demanding, almost palpable that she could feel it hovering over her skin. And he wasn’t even in the view yet.
The head of the shadow soon disappeared behind the wall as his legs came into her sight.
AK was here. For her, again.
She gulped, trailing her gaze up his legs, to his thighs, to his torso, and finally to his face—that beautiful, perfectly shaped scruffed, manly, and unrealistically heavenly face.
Her eyes met his, and she felt her cheeks heating up.
Aariz Darian—the only man she could believe blindly, the only man she knew back then 4 years ago, the only man who showed her kindness, risked his all, and helped her out of his kindness and humanity.
He stood there, in all his grace and glory, just looking at her with nothing but a glint of joy and wistfulness, as if he didn’t want to meet her but was still pleased to have an encounter again.
His eyes were on her, hands tucked in his pants with his tuxedo jacket hanging in one arm, his thick black hair styled back perfectly, his shirt a little cramped at his chest, two buttons opened, revealing just a little of his toned chest, his tie loose around his neck, and a small, soft and bittersweet smile on his full lips.
She straightened herself, holding eye contact as he walked into the room.
Warren and Tiger both followed behind him silently.
“How are you, pretty lady?” He asked, his rich, gravelly voice washing over her, she could physically feel the waves sweeping over her body, engulfing her in its manly, throaty rasp.
She opened her mouth, but her mind was too fogged by his presence, his alluring demeanor to give instructions to her body. Her mouth couldn’t form words like she had forgotten all her vocabulary.
She settled to just smile as an answer, hoping it would be enough.
He returned the gesture, his lips stretching in a beautiful, magnetic grin.
The crimson shade on her cheeks deepened, and she was grateful for the dim light of the room, it saved her the embarrassment.
“I see you again,” He sounded almost disappointed. And she felt herself sinking into the weight of his words. As if she ruined all his efforts.
“You know her?” Warren asked, surprised.
“Of course, I do. How could I ever forget her?” AK answered, a light chuckle escaping his lips.
“What?” Warren came to stand beside him, his brows furrowed in confusion and amazement at the new, unexpected information.
“We're going,” Tiger announced suddenly, turning on his feet and exiting the room.
Hayat looked at his retreating, toned back with knitted brows.
How disrespectful.
What's wrong with him?
“This guy is so bad at manners,” Warren signed.
She looked at AK, he was wearing a chill smile. He seemed to not mind.
“It's alright. You should go,” AK gave him a tap on his shoulder. Warren returned the gesture with an understanding grin, giving a good-bye wink to Hayat, almost mischievously, before exiting the room.
Hayat chuckled at his childishness, getting AK's attention on her instantly.
AK just stared at her with a knowing, friendly smile while she could only purse her lips awkwardly and sink back to the wall.
She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to act. She played with the cuff around her wrist to distract herself.
Not utterly the same, but he still held that effect on her like 4 years ago.
Though it wasn't as obvious and heavy as before, his presence was too powerful to be ignored.
Aariz Darian was one of those few men who held a presence that wasn't just seen but felt. Never once a time would he enter a room but consume it, filling it with his dark, masculine aura, stilling the laughter and lightening the conversations, as if his very being commanded dominance and a touch of fear that made chills crawl up to everyone's skin, all while just being there and doing nothing.
She knew it, for she had felt it, every time, everywhere when he was around her.
Even after he kicked Nike out of the room that day and saved her dignity, AK's father was always a menace. When he held hostages or victims, his men could do anything with them without any restrictions.
AK had always been a shield to some of them in secrecy. He had fled many people he could have access to, without making it known to his father and creating the situations as accidental mistakes or missouts. She was one of those people too.
“I hope you don't mind me coming in there,” He lowered his head, walking in as she shifted a little, intimidated by his proximity.
He sat himself down beside her, leaving a safe space between both of them. Yet, his warmth was too radiating, she felt the heat brushing down all over her skin.
“So, how have you been?” He loosened his tie, keeping it alongside his jacket on the floor.
“Quite good. I completed my high school, and was in the second year of university but...” She trailed off, the heaviness creeping into her chest again, her mind reviving everything again.
“I see,” AK nodded, bending his one knee and resting his hand on it.
She glanced at him, his tousled clothes, and the small creaks on his shirt, wondering where he had come from to be in such a state.
The question clicked in her mind again, she hesitated to ask it out loud, but as usual, her curiosity always gets the best of her.
“Have you….I mean, are you….” she started, trying to find words that wouldn't come off as offensive or judgmental.
“Hm?” He furrowed his brows together, tilting his face slightly, a confused smile on his face as he tried to make sense of her words.
“Uh… I was just asking if you have started to handle your father's illegal stuff too?” She peeked at him through her long, cat-like eyelashes, wishing it would not offend him.
“No, just the business,” he responded calmly and easily, not sounding even a bit displeased.
She nodded, a wave of satisfaction washing over her. She didn’t know why but she didn’t want AK to be allied with DK’s dark businesses, maybe because she had the image of him as someone with high morals and principles, someone humane and sensible. She wouldn’t have liked the bad, mobster, and ruthless side of him.
Says the one who gets butterflies whenever Mr. Foxy Eyes is around her. Her subconscious mocked.
She rolled her eyes mentally at the thought. Why was her brain so annoying sometimes?
It’s different when it comes to him.
“Are you planning to give in?” AK asked her after a moment of silence.
“Over my dead body,” She replied, her voice rich with determination and decisiveness.
AK raised his brows, amazed by just how confident she sounded.
Hayat turned to face him, meeting his gaze. He stared at her, as if he wanted to say something but held himself back.
She looked at her lap again.
“How are they both treating you?” He asked after what felt like an eternity.
“Warren is nice. That other one is quite…” She trailed off, not knowing what word suited him the best to describe his nonchalant, absurdly rude, and irritating personality.
“Hard to deal with?” He completed her unfinished sentence.
“Yeah, I could say,” She chuckled.
“Well, Warren's hard to deal with too. He's selectively good,”
She looked at him questioningly, not understanding him. Warren has been good to her since the start, he never once misbehaved with her, starved her, or was rude to her—everything Tiger was.
Tiger didn't abuse her but he was nothing less than a jerk to her.
But she still felt too deeply for him. She didn’t want to, she hated that feeling but loved at the same time—that feeling whenever his whiskey, deep, fox-like eyes met hers, that feeling whenever he was too close to her, that feeling whenever he did something for her, even just as basic and small as buying her the ice creams that other day—it was too much to take, too much to consume. And she knew how it would end, but no matter how much she tried, she seemed to have no way out of that web.
“It’s a contagious thing. When you are surrounded by wolves, you become one too,” AK stared into the far space, his gravelly voice holding a glint of deepness. Something told her he was just not speaking about Warren, he was speaking about everyone in the clan collectively.
“In this world, ruthlessness is not a choice but a necessity,” He stated.
For a moment, she wondered if he was talking about himself, how many times he had to break his morals to survive, how many times he had to go against his humanity to save himself. But then, he said he wasn’t involved in those dark businesses yet.
Then what was the heaviness in his words? Why did they sound so weighted, so much grounded?
She thought about the times the both guys had gone out for some ‘work’, about the time when the farmhouse was attacked, about the time when she had listened to the caught man’s screams and the blood on Tiger’s knuckles.
It all made sense now.
All her life she thought people did such horrible acts to live, to earn a living easily.
But now she could see it differently.
They weren’t monsters, they were made into one.
All of that ruthlessness was not to live, but to survive.
But then, what was the difference? If that was the case, what made them different from each other? What made Tiger and Warren different from Nike?
“What is the difference between all of them then?” Hayat murmured, her voice low and disappointing.
“There is a difference. Some came by themselves, and some have been thrown into it,” AK replied, his voice still as calm as the evening.
She blinked at him, letting the words sink in.
She thought over it. She had seen Tiger shoot and kill a man once in the forest that other day, but she never found Warren doing it.
Not even once. He seemed to be a sweet guy.
“Warren is still not like everyone else…is he?” The defense in her statement toned down with uncertainty at the end.
AK laughed.
“You think Warren's a good guy, don't you?”
“Is he not?” She questioned with her mouth agape.
“He is not. He's the second most ruthless killer in the clan,” AK replied, making her raise her brows.
“But he never…”
“He doesn't kill much. But when he does, he’s a complete different person–a total maniac,”
She listened to him silently, imagining how the guy looked while carrying out such ominous and dreadful acts.
“And who's the first?” She already knew the answer.
“Who else other than Tiger? He first makes the person beg for life, then makes them beg for death. That explains enough,” AK chuckled at the end, that gravelly echo of laughter reverberating against the walls.
She didn't know where to focus—the guy in front of her or whom he was talking about.
She remembered when Tiger shot the guy in the forest when he caught one of the attackers. At that instance, she knew she hadn't even encountered half of half of his cruelty.
A few minutes passed by them in silence.
A question bothered her. She fidgeted in her thoughts, gathering herself to ask it out loud. She was once again taking the risk of offending him, but she was always a curious cat, she just had to know, she just needed to know everything.
“How do you know both of them if you're not into the mob?” She asked finally, feeling the weight of the question lift over her chest.
“I am not into the gang, but that doesn't mean I could not have connections,” AK stated, seeming calmer than anyone could be at such demand of details asked from them.
“Out of everyone in the gang, I opt to only talk and operate with them both,”
“And why is that?”
“They are my favorites,” AK replied almost instantly. She looked at him with a subtle astonishment, her hazel brown eyes dilating.
“Favorites?” She tilted her head.
“Yes, they are my most trusted men, that's why I chose them to take care of you,” AK exhaled, spreading out both his knees as he leaned back at the wall, resting his head on the hard surface while his eyes remained fixated on her.
“You chose them?” It was an understatement to say that she was shocked. She didn’t know they were chosen to take care of her. She never once thought about it.
“Dad doesn't know that I was the one who helped you flee the country back then, not that he knows now. He was busy with some business, and as usual, he threw his work at me. He asked me to choose two men for someone whom he got after years, and then I got to know that the hostage is you,”
She listened to him explain the situation, all that she never knew, all that the two guys never mentioned. His every word made her respect him more, admire him more.
“So, I chose them. Warren has never touched a woman forcefully. And Tiger has never touched a woman in all his life,” AK concluded.
She didn't know how to thank him. She didn't know how to express her gratitude to him.
It had been a month, more than a month that she was caged there. Tiger tried everything but never went physical with her, never touched her beside when she tried to escape.
And to know that he had never touched a woman sexually, or romantically, gave her a satisfaction she didn’t know she needed.
“Thank you,” She muttered. She had nothing to offer him for her gratitude towards him.
He simply returned a smile—his handsome, captivating smile.
“Why did you come here today?” She was still confused about his arrival there. AK was not a man among the clan. He was the head’s son, he was not to be called for such a small task as watching over a hostage.
“Tiger asked me to. He said he does not trust anyone else around you,”
She blinked.
He called AK there? For her?
She tried her best to not break out a smile on her lips, to not be obvious how much his very name affected her, to not think about the fact he had never touched a woman, to not think that he showed none but cared enough to give her in someone's trusted presence.
“Also, because I wanted to meet you, since you're here, and Dad thinks I'm off to foreign. It was a good chance,” AK added.
“Uh…” She blinked at him, controlling her smile.
She no longer had the little crush on him like the 16-year-old Hayat used to have, but his existence itself was enough to have the floor swept off from under any woman's feet.
“Have you agreed with him yet?” AK asked her.
“Agree for what?”
“The deal,”
Her eyes widened, staring at him with utter shock as her breath got lost and stuck in her throat.
How did AK know about it?
What were these two men? What was wrong with them?
Did Tiger tell him? But why would he tell that to his boss's son? Wouldn't that be scandalous enough to get him killed? Until they are…
“How do you know about it?” She swallowed.
AK stayed silent, his smile turned into a stiff smirk, playing on his lips smoothly, containing every dark form—the menace, the evil, the hint of secrecy and viciousness.
It scared her. It scared her just how quickly the atmosphere changed around her, around the walls, in the room.
It was as if the room was caging her, smothering her, yet she felt no harm.
It was suffocatingly quiet.
The silence was so powerful that it crawled up her skin like snakes, too loud that she felt herself listening to it.
The absurd, sudden realization threw her off guard. It was then she realized…
He, too, was betraying his people, his father.
He, too, was with Tiger.
She looked in front of her, staring at nothing but the bed, the sheet splayed on it, its smooth surface, and nothing.
Her mind was blank.
She couldn't think, she couldn't process anything.
“What…” She shook her head, furrowing her brows.
“Do you two not realize what you're doing? This could get you kil-”
“Three. We're three. Count Warren in,” AK interrupted in between.
She gasped in a sharp breath, struggling to understand, comprehend, and let everything sink in.
Tiger, Warren, and Aariz.
Three men.
Against a whole big mob gang—the gang which was known for its cruelty, for its brutality, the gang which spared no one, the gang which was one of the most wanted, feared, and barbaric in the whole world.
Everything that she seemed to grasp indicated that it was wrong. Way too wrong.
It was not just dangerous. It was beyond destructive.
“Why are you doing this?” She looked at him, trying to breathe steadily, her mind was reeling, and her palms were getting sweaty.
“My father had done enough. There's an end to everything, and if there's not, you make it have one,” AK responded, seeming calm and collected, opposite of what her condition was.
She listened to him silently as he continued.
“And if that requires me to risk my life, I would gladly do it. Maybe this could get me to heaven, wouldn't it?” AK raised his eyebrows, tilting his face as if it meant nothing to him as if death was nothing but a pleasure to him.
There was a chilling silence afterward. So much less time, so much information unfolded, so much for her to wrap her mind around it.
Silence again spread like a night ghost, the quietness coming back to gnaw at her. She seemed to connect the dots, understand the situation, and take the blast of newly discovered information.
What was she supposed to do? What was the right thing to do at such a time?
She was caught up in the whirl of thoughts, one said she should just agree and take the blow while the other insisted on not doing something stupid—that these men couldn't be trusted, no man could be trusted, no matter how she knew or used to know them.
But AK…?
AK didn't say anything, letting her have her time. He stared outside the window, admiring the way evening was falling and spreading around the sky. Its orange hue decorated the faded pink and red strokes in between the stretching thin clouds, adorning it with ethereal, captivating beauty.
The room was silent as if there was no one in it, only the sound of the breeze swaying the dried leaves could be heard. When her thoughts died down, she realized the quietness as it grew on her more heavily, she turned her face to him.
The soft air coming from the window was swaying his hair smoothly, his features shining with the subtle orange and golden hue in different shades, the vein on his neck popping out, clear, evident. The scruff around his jaw only added to his fanciable face.
He was majestic.
She didn't feel those butterflies in her stomach anymore like she used to years ago just by looking at him or being in his presence. But she had an eye for beauty, and he was too handsome to be unappreciated.
She reminded herself that he was the same man who had helped her when no one else did, he was the same man who treated her like a human, a girl, a victim, he was the same and only man she had trusted back then, the one and only man who didn't betray her, used her, or backstabbed her.
Just because he was against his father and planning to destroy his illegal, bestial empire didn't mean that he was a bad person now. His intentions were good, pure, and justifiable.
In a sense, he was not betraying his father, he was saving the innocents, doing justice to those who were killed and butchered in the name of that kingdom, in the name of blood, in the name of greed for power and dominance.
“What is the guarantee that I won't be betrayed this time?” She managed to ask, her voice small and collected, earning AK's attention back.
“I can assure you, nothing will happen to you. Warren wouldn't go against Tiger, and Tiger is the most honest assassin, even to the enemies. He is known for keeping his words, whether it’s a promise or threat,” AK stated.
She nodded in acknowledgment, but she was not fully convinced. No matter any more justification, any explanation, a voice in the back of her head was always there, small but loud enough to make her question everything and everyone.
“To be honest, I could trust you, but how could I trust them?” She asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.
“At least you trust me. I’m flattered,” He smiled, his cheekbones lifting a little.
She blushed, struggling to not let the smile spread wide on her lips.
“That's because I know you, at least a little. I know nothing about them,” She said, her voice distracted, lost in the thoughts of the past—when Aariz Darian was just Aariz Darian and not AK. Him being called by his code name like everyone else was proof that even if he didn't meddle with the mob stuff, people knew him as their boss's son and not just the CEO and owner of the many, top-rated companies in the country and worldwide.
She knew that the deal was considerable, and she could probably return to her home, to her comfort, if she agreed. But the fear won't let her say yes, won't let her give in, won’t let her trust.
She wanted to believe in what AK told her, and deep in her heart, she did believe him. But she also feared that this belief she had of both guys would be ruined in the end, that they would turn out to be the opposites of what she thinks of them, or what AK said about them, and she would be disappointed again, betrayed again.
And she would not like that. Not even a bit.
“I know a little about them. But it's not my place to tell their stories. They are both quite alike in terms of many things, but also have their varying qualities,” AK spoke, the gravel of his voice making her thoughts still instantly.
“Like?”
“Can I tell you? Will you be able to take it?” AK asked gently, warmly, leaning his face just an inch closer, but the concern in his voice made her question herself, made her hesitant, made her swallow the growing unease.
She took so much. What more could be there?
She nodded, confidently. Only she knew the way her stomach was churning, her hand was twisting itself in anxiety, and her head was fogged.
But she still wanted to know.
“Tiger and Warren both have been thrown into this mess, into this gang. The brutality of their life turned them into what they are right now. While Warren is still a lot more in connection with his emotions, Tiger has been aloof and apathetic from the start. Warren at least cares about a few people in his life, Tiger doesn’t care about anyone. Warren is deceivingly sweet, he could look anyone in the eye, tell a hundred lies, and not get caught for even one. Tiger isn’t fond of lying at all, if he has promised someone a death, he will kill them even in their own territory without getting a scar to touch his skin. And if he has promised someone protection, he will even risk his life just to protect them,”
Her mouth was slightly agape as she listened to him. A warmth spread through her chest, feeling the pain they both had to go through.
But going through pain didn't give anyone the right to harm others too. She thought to herself.
Even with the differences, they both were almost on the same level on the scale of evil and wickedness. Both were killers, both were wicked, both were evil and cruel.
“What is the difference between them then?” She sighed, feeling the chills running down her spine.
“There is a difference. There's a very big difference. Tiger shoots, Warren cuts. Tiger plans, Warren executes. Tiger knows the way, Warren knows the code. They both have their ways of killing—one likes it to the middle of the forehead while the other likes it in the middle of the neck. Warren makes the death look like an impending doom, while Tiger is the death himself. And the main course—Warren smiles when he kills, Tiger doesn't even blink while taking a life,” AK concluded. He couldn't go on after looking at her expression.
“I told you, it's not something a heart like yours can take,” He chuckled.
She definitely couldn't take it. Even just thinking about it made her heart stop, made the hair on her skin stand up, made her stomach churn nauseously, made her mind dizzy, and her hands sweaty.
The room was now dark, the little light coming from the window being the only source of sightedness. It was getting chilly, and the breezes outside were more blaring and fervent.
But she could only hear her racing heartbeat, only feel the chills on her skin.
How cruel.
How brutal.
Yet, she didn't feel herself hating the both guys at all. Even after knowing, which was enough to make anyone fear them, she didn't. Why? How?
Maybe because she knew–that brutality, that cruelness, that madness, was never coming for her, was never harming her.
Deep in her heart, she believed she was safe. Under them both, under Aariz, and moreover, under her God's protection. She wouldn't have made it till so far if The Almighty didn't want her to, if he didn't help her, if he didn't protect her.
“So, you think that I should agree with the deal?” She dragged her gaze to AK slowly, wanting for him to confirm, to get the push of encouragement to think about it.
“Only if you want to,” AK nodded, his deep, gravelly voice was a mixture of comfort and reassurance.
“I have already denied him,” She shrugged, looking away.
“What did he say?”
“He said he'll make me trust in his way,” She mumbled, relaxing her shoulders and leaning back against the wall.
“Then you just need to wait. If he said he will, then he will,” AK asserted.
She pursed her lips, giving him a thin smile as he returned one too.
------
“Did you find something?” AK asked, his jacket hanging on his back as he held it with his two fingers on his shoulder, his other hand on his hip as he stood tall.
“Not much. Xavier doesn't know anything besides the name of the place,” Tiger answered, placing his lighter back to his pocket.
It was night already when they returned. The half moon held a yellowish glow, a few stars stretched in the far distance from it while few played along with the clouds.
The dried grass around was swaying with the cool air, the trees rustling with their remaining leaves feathering down to the ground.
“This is deeper than we thought,” AK scratched his forehead, rolling his hair back.
“Anyways,” AK signed, “How many men did you kill today?”
“Only nine,” Tiger ran a hand through his hair, the count of dead was nothing but as easy as a play of lighters for him.
“That’s less than your normal counts,” AK smirked teasingly.
He looked over at Tiger's shoulder, a confused and humorous frown coming on his face as he saw Warren sulking behind.
“What happened to you, Warren?”
“Nothing,” Warren shifted his weight on the other foot, playing with his bike's keys.
AK glanced at Tiger, demanding the cause for the guy's sudden disquiet.
“Kevin was there too,” Tiger answered shortly.
“You two met again,” AK exclaimed while giving a look to Warren, watching how Warren's gaze hardened.
“It was an unlucky fucking thing to meet him again,” Warren rolled his eyes, his face cold and tight.
“That's it. It's getting late, you should go,” Tiger motioned to AK.
AK nodded, giving a tap on Warren's shoulder as he brushed past them to his car.
------
“Then you just need to wait. If he said he will, then he will,” AK had told her the day before, and she had been waiting for Tiger to do something.
The morning went by smoothly.
He now cooked the usual meals for her too, or sometimes the takeouts Warren would buy for all three of them.
After having only porridge for so many days, she had forgotten how other dishes tasted like.
But when he started cooking the same meals for her too which he cooked for both of them, she hated to admit but there's no man she knew in her life that could cook so well, so delicious.
She wondered where he learnt to cook like that while taking the last spoon of chicken fried rice, finishing the food on her plate.
It was almost around evening again, the stars and moon fainting visible as the darkness was slowly spreading across the wide blue sky while the earth still remained bright.
“Ah, I want to go out,” She mumbled to herself, looking out of the window, missing her apartment in the building where she would make herself a cup of coffee on weekends, sit on the chair in her gallery and enjoy reading a book.
It was so peaceful. It used to be so peaceful.
“Are you full?” That deep voice of evil and threats fell on her ears, she turned her face to the door as he stepped into the room, taking slow steps towards her.
She gazed up at him blinking as he came to stand in front of her.
“Yes,” She replied.
“Good,” He nodded, taking out a key from his pocket, bending down and coming inside her crib.
She tensed up, knowing he was not going to do anything, but his proximity held something which made her anxious every time—not in an uncomfortable way.
He sat up on one knee, reaching out to her cuff as she followed her gaze to her tied hand. He stuck the key inside and unlocked them.
She turned her face to look at him.
His eyes met hers.
Fireworks.
She could physically feel herself burning under those whiskey, deep eyes. There was something unusual in his eyes—they held a mystery different from before.
The light breeze brushed above him, swaying his silky locks as a single strand of his raven hair fell on her nose.
She sucked in a breath, almost unknowingly.
“Get up. We're going out,” He said, standing up.
What was he ?
She got up, following him as he tossed the cuffs on the bed and made his way out of the room.
This time, she didn't think of running away. Her mind was still in haze from yesterday.
She had so many questions which she seemed to have no answers for.
He opened the door, stepping aside to give her space.
She stared at him, hesitating, not understanding anything, not understanding him.
What was he even doing? Letting her out? He was the one to prevent her from even stepping out of the crib and now he was holding out the door open for her like a gentleman.
Who knows? Maybe he is a gentleman. Her subconscious cooed.
As if. She rolled her eyes mentally, walking out the door.
She saw Warren already out. He tried to smile at her but it didn't even reach his eyes.
Something was off. She could feel it.
The tension around her tightened her chest, her heart was sinking, the anxiety hitting back, forming knots in her stomach.
She bit her lower lip, the wind swayed her hair as she squinted her eyes, looking around. The evening was starting to spread more but it was still a little bright, indicating it would at least take an hour or so for the darkness to hover above the place.
He came from behind as the main door closed with a loud thud.
He stood in front of her.
She was staring at him confusingly.
He was looking at her deeply.
“I hope you're old enough to know how to drive,” He said, more like a question than a statement.
She looked at Warren who stood at some distance from them on the last stair step, his hands in his pocket, watching them with an expression she couldn't point out.
She looked at Tiger again, nodding a little.
Tiger stretched out his hand to her. She gazed down.
A gun… and car keys?
Both were familiar. Too familiar.
It was his gun, his car's keys—the ones he always carried around.
“You said you did not trust me,” He said, his voice just a pitch above a whisper, she almost felt the mild anger in his voice, sounding more evil, more sinful, more deep.
She blinked up at him.
“And as I said, I'll make you trust me in my way,”
She held her breath, the depth of his words washing over her.
“Then you just need to wait. If he said he will, then he will,” She recalled AK's words from last night.
Was it the time?
She searched his eyes. And there was her answer.
It was the time.
“Take this gun, and there stands my car. Go wherever you want, find your way out of this dense forest, and you can go back to your place. I won’t come after you,” That was one of the few times she heard him speak that much continuously.
Was he for real? What was he even saying? What was even happening?
He took a step towards her, closing the distance between them.
She tried to inch back a little, but his hand gripped hers.
In the very next moment, his gun and keys were placed on her hands.
She looked down at them, then up at him.
The knot in her stomach was getting tighter with each passing second, making her body tense.
“But if you get lost,” He stared down at her, something so evil, so sly, so devious shining in his eyes. He wasn't looking down on her, or insulting her, or mocking her, but the way his speech was smitten, coated with foxiness, he just knew that she would be lost.
“Fire the gun in the air and I'll come find you,”
She exhaled, the gun feeling so heavy in her hand as he let go of it.
“But you know what that would mean, squirrel?” He tilted his face, his lips curving up in a small, devilish smirk—so small that she would've missed it if he wasn't just a few inches away from her.
“It would be the seal of our deal,” He whispered.
Her back was damp with sweat even under the open, cold atmosphere.
She chewed on her lower lip, staring down at the gun and his car keys absentmindedly, unknowingly admiring the silver on them shining under the soft golden rays of the sinking sun.
She wetted her lip, running her tongue over her lower lip in agitation, curling her bare toes and tightening her fingers around the beast of a gun.
When she looked up, she found his eyes lowered somewhere on her face.
Her lips.
She stilled. He was close, not just in distance, but in the way his gaze held the intensity, the deepness, the unsaid and unrecognizable denseness—all on her, for her, because of her.
Her eyes on his.
And his on her lips.
She felt herself drowning, as if the ground was taking her in, consuming her slowly without even opening or splitting. For an instant, she forgot everything around her.
It only remained for a flicker of a second. He looked away the very next moment.
He stepped aside, giving her the way.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to take the risk. She couldn't just stand there unmoving while she was given the chance to go.
She took in a breath, staring in the front.
His car. His BMW stood there shining, the sleek black paint gleaming under the soft golden hue, its polished surface reflecting a captivating, steely elegance. Just as inviting, as tempting, and as cold as him.
She looked at Warren for the last time. His eyes were already on her, they were on her from the start.
He hasn't said anything throughout those few minutes since she walked out of the door, but his eyes did. His eyes held all the concern, all the worry, all the fear—all those emotions she wasn't feeling for herself, or perhaps not feeling to the core where she would feel herself shuddering under them. The uncertainty, the confusion, the unsurety was overpowering every other emotion in her, resisting the weight of reality to fall on her shoulders, not letting her senses yet realize the consequences of the adventure she was about to conquer.
She puffed out a breath, taking a step down the stairs, walking past him.
She felt him turn around behind her, she felt his foxy, predator eyes lingering on her back.
But she didn't stop. She kept going, kept striding down the stairs until she reached the last step.
The wind blew over the wide farm, the small dried grasses and leaves making the whooshing sounds.
Warren stood there still, his hands folded on his chest as he kept watching her silently. She cascaded down the very last step with unshown difficulty.
She began walking ahead, keeping her eyes fixated on his lavish, desirable, hawk of a car.
She didn't look at him. She held her breath, the heaviness growing on her being, her skin crawling with chills, her front hair sticking to her forehead, her palms growing sweater, her legs shaking, her heart racing.
But she didn't look back, didn't halt her steps, didn't slow down.
She reached the car, stopping herself just to open the door.
She settled herself into the driver's seat, and closed the door with a jerk.
She revved up the engine as his car roared beneath her, giving her the thrill she hadn't experienced in a while.
She placed her hand on the steering wheel, feeling its smooth curls under her long, pale fingers as she wrapped them around it.
She swallowed, the only smell in the car was his. The smell of woods and lavender embraced her as she turned the wheel.
She whirled the car around, aiming for the road which stretched to the forest, narrowing in the farthest distance.
In a swift moment, her eyes met his intense gaze across the far wide distance.
The car was now motioning at the road, she removed her foot from the break, turning the steering wheel as the car moved forward with a mild speed.
She watched the two guys through the left mirror. Warren had looked at Tiger, almost angrily while Tiger just stood there, watching her drive his car in the forest, through the thick log of trees, and the denseness of the horrific place.
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