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💓HEALING WOUND-CHAPTER-32

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Meera pov:

NOW:

My blurry vision slowly cleared, revealing a scene ripped straight out of a nightmare. I was crammed into a rickety chair, my wrists and ankles bound with what felt like coarse rope. The air hung thick with the stale scent of cigar smoke and spilled liquor, a combination that churned my stomach. Memories flooded back in a terrifying rush – the men, Javier's goons, their rough hands hauling me into the car, the prick of a needle... and Naveen. Where was Naveen?

Panic clawed at my throat, but I shoved it down. Tears welled in my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall. Not here, not in front of these monsters. I had to be strong.

I had to get out. I had to find Camila and the kids and get them to safety with Adrian and Carlos uncle. The whole situation is killing me – the thought of Camila and the kids stuck with that jerk, the pain it'll cause Adrian... I just shut my eyes real tight, picturing Adrian's face. He's strong, you know, with this incredible love for his family. He wouldn't break down or anything, but the guilt, oh the guilt! It would eat him alive from the inside out. And I can't bear that, Escape seemed impossible, but I wouldn't give up, not for Camila, not for the kids, and certainly not for Adrian. He deserved better than a broken woman. He deserved someone strong, someone who wouldn't crumble under pressure. That shy girl who used to hide behind her father wouldn't survive this. I am Meera, the woman who ran my father's import-export business. Taking a deep breath, I forced my trembling hands to steady. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me scared.

A rough voice broke the silence. "Looks like the shortie is awake." I threw my chin up, glaring at the goons. "Let me go, you brainless idiots!"

Their laughter echoed through the grimy basement, like hyenas feasting on a bad joke. One of them sauntered towards me, a sickening grin plastered on his face. He trailed a grimy finger across my cheek, but I wasn't having any of it. I jerked my head away, spitting out the first insult that came to mind. "Don't you dare touch me, you disgusting dog!"

His grin vanished, replaced by a snarl. He lunged for me, his hand snaking towards my hair. Pain shot through my scalp as his grip tightened. I squeezed my eyes shut, gritting my teeth against the throbbing ache.

"Gary," another goon drawled, "the boss said hands off. Let's get word to him."

The jerk in my hair finally released me, leaving behind a burning sensation. He muttered a curse before joining his buddies, who were already engrossed in their cards again. Every minute felt like an eternity in this disgusting place. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows – Javier Vargas himself. My heart hammered against my ribs, fear a cold knot in my stomach yet I tried not to show on my face.

He gripped my jaw tightly, leaning in close as he uttered in Spanish, "¡Este chico Hernández atrapó a una chica sexy!" (This Hernandez guy caught a hot girl for himself!)

He thought I didn't understand Spanish, but little did he know, I did. Fear and anger churned inside me, but I needed to stay calm and find out why he had kidnapped me. "What do you want with me? Why are you doing this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.