Mine to take (18+) - Fanfiction

Forcefully Engaged

Note: I have borrowed the names of actual historical figures, with similar incidents but this world is entirely fictional. They are completely inaccurate and are just present to set the world of year 1971 Pakistan.

I have noticed most readers rarely comment or vote (it lowered my confidence I thought readers weren't into this story until the dms and ngl came in) guys I can handle constructive criticism, and I would love to have your insight on the chapters. So please do comment💖

Warning: Mature language.

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The man lay on the opulent bed, surrounded by the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows against the silk-draped walls. His peaceful slumber was interrupted as he shifted, feeling a cold, unyielding touch against his forehead. With a jolt, his eyes flew open, widened by both surprise and a sudden rush of fear.

"Murtasim bhai, aap yaha?" His voice wavered, a mix of disbelief and a tinge of panic, as his fingers convulsively gripped the embroidered edges of the luxurious blanket draped over him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, tracing the path of his mounting tension, as he scrambled to process the situation he found himself in.

"Kya kaha tha tumne? Is baar ki fasal barbaad hogayi?" His breath hitched, the fear in his eyes growing more palpable as he locked gazes with the strikingly handsome figure before him. Murtasim Khan commanded the room effortlessly, adorned in resplendent traditional attire that accentuated his regal demeanor. His piercing, dark black eyes held an intensity that mirrored a predator's gaze, adding to his allure and aura of authority.

The trembling man recoiled, apprehension etched deep into his expression, as Murtasim's firm grip seized his collar, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Tumhe maalum hai ki mujhe jhoot se kitni nafrat hai."

A tense silence hung in the air before Murtasim relaxed, reclining in the chair with an air of nonchalance, drawing in a long drag from his cigarette. In a moment of distraction, the trembling man stealthily reached under the bed, retrieving a pistol, and aimed it at Murtasim with shaky hands. Click. A momentary pause, followed by Murtasim's sardonic chuckle.

"Khaali hai goli." Murtasim's smirk and his calm demeanor unnervingly steady as he continued, unfazed by the failed threat. "You see, this year, I am partaking in the elections. A tarnished record wouldn't bode well for me. So, I present you with an option," he said, his voice laced with a mixture of authority and an underlying warning.

"What should I do?"

"Don't withdraw the state assets from the East", The cunning man said as he twisted his curled moustache, his shawl draped down the chair. 

Pakistan was split into East and West regions, separated by a thousand miles of India. In an attempt to establish the independent nation of Bangladesh, East Pakistan sought autonomy. Ahmed Durrani, serving as the Governor of the State Bank, played a crucial role on the sidelines. Bhutto, leader of the People's Party, dedicated himself to asserting West Pakistan's supremacy and covertly urged Durrani to withdraw state assets from the eastern region.

"Bhutto will kill me", Durrani said trying to convince Murtasim, but Murtasim nonchalantly tipped of cigeratte dropping it on the carpet and extinguished it with his foot. His eyes now met Durrani's and he shrugged, "So will I".

In a swift movement, Murtasim rose from his seat, his presence towering over the room. With a calculated grace, he approached Durrani, his footsteps echoing authority. He extended a hand, a gesture that held both a semblance of camaraderie and an underlying threat.

"Make your choice, Durrani. Decide whether history will remember you as a patriot or a traitor." His voice was a low rumble, resonating with finality.

Durrani hesitated, his hand trembling as it hovered over Murtasim's. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the verdict that would echo through the corridors of power.