Chapter 7

Author’s POV

The silence of the room was shattered by a muffled scream.

Bilqish jolted awake, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving as she clutched the blanket tighter around her trembling body. The nightmare had returned—vivid, relentless, and more terrifying than before.

She saw it all again.

That dark alley in Mumbai. The sharp sting of fear that had paralyzed her. The cold, expressionless eyes of the man with the knife. The way he had pinned the victim down like he was nothing but a rag doll. The screaming… oh God, the screaming.

She saw herself again, frozen, hiding behind a pile of crates, hands pressed to her mouth, shaking, unable to look away.

And then—the final moment. That swift, merciless slit across the man’s throat.

She’d gasped, back then and now. The sound escaped her before she could stop it.

In her dream, Ehtisham—the big scary guy—had turned, his storm-grey eyes locking with hers, just as they had that day. There had been no hesitation in his stare. Only one unspoken message:

You saw too much.

She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to rub the images out of her head, but they clung like shadows. Still breathless, she forced herself to sit up. The bed felt colder than before.

And oddly… quieter.

She glanced around, blinking away the remnants of sleep.

The four German Shepherds who had taken up each corner of her room like silent sentinels were… gone.

Gone?

Her breath hitched again. They never left. Not even for food. They’d become the one constant in her captivity.

Where were they?

She slowly climbed off the bed and padded toward the wide window. She needed to breathe. To ground herself. The room had suddenly grown claustrophobic.

The moon was high, spilling silver over the quiet villa grounds. Everything looked peaceful from the outside—almost too peaceful. Like this place was just another mansion owned by a rich, powerful man.

If only it were that simple.

She rested her forehead against the cool glass, letting the silence seep into her skin.

What would life have been like if she’d had a real family?

Ifra always said she deserved more than what life had handed her. That she should’ve been born into a house full of laughter, annoying siblings, and a mother who loved fiercely, protecting her from all the problems.

Bilqish had always smiled at those words. But tonight, they stung.

She had no parents, no backstory she understood, no blood to call her own. The orphanage raised her, and while it gave her shelter, it didn’t give her roots.

What if someone was out there—someone she didn’t know—who cared?

But even as that thought crossed her mind, she scoffed under her breath. No one was coming. She knew that now.

Except maybe... Ifra.

Her chest tightened.

Ifra must be going crazy looking for her. Bilqish could picture her pacing, worrying, calling, shouting at the police. If anyone would fight to find her, it was Ifra.

A small sob escaped her lips. She pressed her fist to her mouth and forced it back down.

Now was not the time to cry.

But it was getting harder and harder not to. She has always been the one to support herself, be the backbone she always needed. She knew crying was not the solution for the problem she is in. It's not everyday thing to get kidnapped. Although she is not being physically tortured but it was a mental torture for her. Going through the same memory again and again in the form of nightmare. Living it all again, the cruelty, the helplessness.

She was tired but she couldn't give up – not yet.

❀

Ahmed Estate – Outskirts of Lucknow

The shadows inside Taimoor Ahmed’s private study stretched long and silent, only disturbed by the occasional click of his silver ring against the glass tumbler in his hand.

“She’s been missing for over a week. Still no trace?” he asked without raising his voice, but the weight behind each word pressed like stone.

Zuhayr stood opposite him, spine straight, gaze unwavering.

“No CCTV footage. No credible witnesses. We’ve scoured every corner around the market she was last seen in. She’s gone—without a single footprint.”

Taimoor leaned back in his leather chair, his expression unreadable.

“She’s not gone. She’s off the radar.” He took a slow sip, his tone calm—too calm. “Which is what worries me.”

Zuhayr hesitated before speaking. “Do you want us to retrieve her… bring her here?”

Taimoor’s eyes flicked to his son, sharp and unreadable. Then, he shook his head once.

“No.”

Zuhayr’s brows knitted, but he said nothing.

“She’s spent years thinking she’s just another girl with no ties. Let it stay that way. We don’t intervene. We don’t approach her. Not yet,” Taimoor said, voice clipped and final.

“Then what do we do?”

“Keep looking. Quietly. I want to know where she is, who she’s with, and what happened that night. She’s never gone completely dark before—not in the last four years. We’ve kept eyes on her this long. I want answers.”

“And when we get them?”

Taimoor’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. “Then we let her return to her ordinary life. Exactly as it was before. She should never know we were involved in any of this.”

He stood, walking over to the window, his eyes scanning the vast estate beyond the glass.

“She belongs to a different path. Ours only crosses with hers when necessary.”

“And if she’s found by the wrong people?” Zuhayr asked quietly.

“Then she’ll do what she was always meant to do,” Taimoor said flatly. “Even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

A long silence settled in the room. The hum of tension vibrated just beneath the surface.

Zuhayr gave a slight nod. “Understood.”

Taimoor didn’t look at him. His gaze remained distant, unreadable, fixed somewhere far beyond the garden outside. Somewhere only he could see.

“Find her,” he murmured. “But stay in the shadows. I don't want her involved— Not yet. It's still not time”

And with that, the room fell silent once more.