𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬.

𝟒. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧.

An unsettling silence descended, as if the walls were holding their breath in anticipation of the impending tempest. One wall seemed to seethe with fury, while the other trembled with fear. Every corner of the room whispered warnings of the storm's approach, as the winds howled in despair, their melancholy sighs directed at the girl.

The man's ocean-blue eyes, once a tranquil haven, now swirled with dark, abyssal depths, consumed by an unholy hunger. His gaze was a vacant, lightless pathway, leading only to darkness and despair. His mind was a maelstrom, obsessed with a single, sinister thought.

She just slapped me!

Fayra's captor radiated unbridled fury, his entire being throbbing with malevolent intent. His massive hands clenched into fists, as if itching to inflict harm. Each deliberate stride toward her exuded dominance, making Fayra shudder like a leaf in a tempest.

His ocean-blue eyes, though aesthetically pleasing, hid a sinister truth. Fayra steeled herself against their allure, fearing the dark, lustful depths that lurked within. This ocean was treacherous, and she knew she'd be helpless against its turbulent waters.

Tears streamed down her face as her chin quivered with fear. Her grey eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and her fragile palms trembled as she gazed upon the heartless monster fate had bound her to. Has a rock replaced his heart?

As he yanked her into his unyielding chest, Fayra's breath caught in her throat. Each inhale was tainted with nausea and fear. Her right hand was pinned against her lower back, and a hiss of pain escaped her lips as she struggled against his crushing grip.

Fayra's grey eyes dilated in terror as she spotted the revolver clutched in Musa's muscular hand, a detail she had previously overlooked. A blood-curdling scream tore from her lips as he brutally slid the revolver into her mouth, causing blood to seep from the corners of her lips.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, but Musa's eyes remained impassive, devoid of even a flicker of compassion for the fragile soul trembling before him. Fayra's heart wailed in anguish, convinced that she was indeed face-to-face with a monster disguised in human skin.

Musa's mind swirled with a maelstrom of sadistic thoughts, each one more depraved than the last. He reveled in the prospect of tormenting Fayra, of reducing her to a state of abject despair, begging for mercy – or death.

Meanwhile, Fayra's perception of Musa shifted. She realized that he was more than just a ruthless businessman; he was a master of darkness, wielding an aura of malevolent superiority that chilled her to the bone.

❝ Please, leave me ❞  Fayra's words were barely audible, muffled by pain and fear, but Musa's expression remained unyielding, his eyes devoid of mercy.

Just then, a familiar voice boomed through the corridors, ❝ Buddy! ❞ Musa's grip relaxed, and Fayra collapsed to the ground, broken and shattered. Her face was pale and haggard, her eyes dull and lifeless.

Her soul wandered through a desolate, gloomy alley, haunted by the shadows of uncertainty. Her gaze desperately searched for a glimmer of hope, a light to illuminate the darkness. Yet, deep down, she knew it was a futile quest.

Pain, heartbreak, and tears ravaged her soul, reducing it to ashes. Perhaps, she was searching for herself, for the fragments of her shattered identity. The slamming of the door jolted her back to reality. The monster was gone, but the damage he had inflicted on her fragile soul was irreparable.

Fayra's words echoed through the shaken walls, which seemed to gaze at her with compassion and anger toward the monster who had harmed her. ❝ I am one of those souls forced to swim in a sea of pain.❞

Meanwhile, Musa sauntered into the living room, where his best friend, Aroosh, greeted him with a manly voice. ❝ Salaam, man.❞

Aroosh's gaze scrutinized Musa, noticing the blood on his fist. A flurry of thoughts swirled in Aroosh's mind.

❝ Tell Ahmed I'm ready to give a blank cheque, but I want the paintings of Khafifa,❞ Musa demanded, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. A storm raged in his mind; Ahmed, a business tycoon, had acquired the new collection of paintings by Khafifa.

Aroosh smirked, ❝ He can offer the blank cheque to shut your pretty mouth ❞

Musa's ocean-blue eyes blazed with resentment, his fists clenched in anger. ❝ I get what's mine by hook or by crook, buddy, ❞ He whispered, the vicious glint in his eyes unmistakable to Aroosh.

Aroosh knew Musa like the back of his hand. He was aware that Musa wouldn't let this go, and stopping him was impossible. Musa Hassan Khan was a force to be reckoned with – a ruthless businessman and a playboy who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

❝Where is Fayra?❞ The question that Musa preferred to avoid was now brought up. Aroosh could sense something was off; he knew his best friend wouldn't accept this forced bond.

❝She isn't well; let her rest,❞ Was all Musa could come up with. The animosity he felt for her was evident in his voice, making Aroosh hold back his outrage.

❝ You sure, Musa?❞ Aroosh questioned, his hazel eyes filled with concern for the miserable soul Fayra. Aroosh was the opposite of Musa—calm and charming, yet capable of being vicious when necessary.

❝More than I've ever been,❞ Musa retorted, his voice dripping with bitterness, uninterested in the topic. His mind was replaying the scenes that had unfolded in the storeroom, with no remorse showing on his face.

❝You'd be a fool if you chased after stones when you have a diamond at home. Cherish it before you lose it,❞ Aroosh's words caught Musa's attention. His ocean-blue eyes were awash with uncertain emotions, while he couldn't help but notice the smile twitching at Aroosh's lips.

It was a reminder—a reminder to himself. Yet Musa's ego wasn't about to accept anything against him.

❝ Sir, he's here,❞ Their attention turned toward an elderly man in his fifties, wearing a black guard uniform, a gun tucked at the back of his waist.

Musa and Aroosh made their way out, passing through the vacant corridors. Every step Musa took screamed of superiority, his shoulders held high like a ruler—a king of his kingdom, Musa Hassan Khan.

❝You came?❞ Shock was apparent in their voices as their eyes widened at the person. Several cars were parked proudly outside Musa's mansion, and their eyes locked with a pair of electric blue orbs, perhaps seeking answers.