Thief

Chapter 26

---Nadir's POV---

Walking through familiar halls, rooms that have echoed my screams of agony, was an unsettling feeling. However I knew I was here as a free man, and I would leave as a free man as well.

The same couldn't be said about Mercer, who's breathing was audible even from beyond the closed door of his private room.

All of his grandeur and splendor had already been slowly withered away. Probably with the lie of needing to pay for Mercer's cure. And I was quite certain that Ishtar would give a mournful performance once I left, announcing to everyone that Mercer could not be saved.

Pressing my palm to the door, I slowly pushed it open. Letting my eyes roam through a familiar room of a formerly powerful man, now reduced to a living corpse.

Mercer was propped up against his pillows to be able to sit upright. Wheezing with each breath, unable to stabilize himself as he simply laid there, awaiting death.

His body, which he had kept in tiptop condition during his prime, had wasted away. Muscles had atrophied almost completely, allowing us to see veins and bones quite easily.

No longer was Mercer the powerful master with the world at his feet. Instead, he was a feeble, ailing man who had only retained his intelligence.

That was something I could see as his gaze clashed with mine and held. And then I saw recognition.

And fear.

Realization was clear to see as his eyes flashed between myself and Ishtar. His mouth was ajar yet all he could produce was a weak gurgle, as if he was trying but failing to speak.

Honestly, there was not a hint of joy in my body, seeing Mercer vulnerable like this. Part of me had longed for that satisfaction of finally seeing Mercer at my mercy, to be able to slay him where he stood.

Instead, I felt nothing but pity. Mercer could've been such a great man, could've used his power and riches to better other people's lives.

So many slaves could've been freed. So many lives could've been changed for the better.

Mercer could've easily used his wealth to hunt down slavers, to free slaves from their shackles and heal their wounds.

After all, the master he abducted me from did the same. Used his wealth to help people, be it young or old, healthy or sick, rich or poor.

Yet Mercer saw himself elevated above most people. Even fellow Sheiks were deemed beneath him, as his egocentric way of thinking could only imagine one ruler of these lands.

Himself.

"Allah Yerhamo, Mercer." I greeted, seeing his eyes widen and shift from person to person. "Because you won't find mercy among any of your former slaves."

The man trembled on his deathbed as all hope fled his body. I walked around the bed and sat down beside him, looking down on my former master.

"You must've heard about my former masters dying one by one. Panicked and knew this meant something that linked them all was hunting them down." I motioned to the former slaves gathered around the room. "Your many spies and slaves would've filled in the blanks and informed you that I was still alive and well."

I chuckled, though the sound was void of any humor. "Did it never bother you how I got out of the desert you abandoned me in? How I survived a stab wound to the ribs while bound, gagged and weakened in the unforgivable climate of my sandy grave?"

Mercer made another gurgle sound, eyes darting to the door when it opened before there was a fragment of hope in his eyes when Ishtar appeared.

"Ish....ishh...." He swallowed thickly, fear in his gaze as they flitted from Ishtar to myself and Carson's crew. I snorted, shaking my head.