𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓: 𝐀 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐐𝐮𝐫'𝐚𝐧

chapter 53

Ayaan loosened his grip on her shoulder, but it seemed like she didn't want to let him go at all. "Ayat, move aside!" he said, his cold tone laced with accusation. Perhaps he was angry with her. She looked up but saw that he wasn't meeting her gaze, and she felt tears welling in her eyes. "Sorry!" she said softly, her voice sweet and gentle, but it seemed this time he was truly upset with her.

"Only on one condition!" he declared, looking down at her. She nodded, still holding onto him. "Just let me go and stand here until I come back," he instructed, emphasizing his words with an authoritative tone. She nodded again, slowly loosening her grip, and now she stood still, looking down as he rushed off in the opposite direction without glancing back.

Ayaan approached the constables who were tightly holding Ashar by his shoulders. He slowed his steps, gesturing for them to step away. They complied, leaving Ayaan alone with Ashar, who was staring blankly at the ground. A surge of anger coursed through Ayaan as he grabbed Ashar by the collar, jerking him to look up. When Ashar finally raised his eyes, he met Ayaan's piercing gaze, filled with fury.
“HOW DARE YOU!”

Ayaan’s fist crashed against Ashar’s face, hard enough that blood oozed from the corner of his lips. Ashar’s head snapped to the side, fury blazing in his eyes. He raised his hand, wanting to strike back, but pain stopped him—the wound from the bullet that had grazed his shoulder burned like fire, crippling his movement.

“HOW DARE YOU TAKE HER NAME WITH YOUR MOUTH!” Ayaan roared, slamming another punch onto his jaw. Ashar staggered, clutching his face. The pain shot so sharply through his bone that he feared his jaw might have cracked. His eyes widened as he stared at Ayaan, who now shoved him back and drew his gun.

The barrel pressed directly over Ashar’s heart.

Shock consumed him. “W-what are you doing?” he stammered, fear thick in his voice.

Ayaan cocked the gun, his expression unnervingly calm. “Just planning to kill you, right here. On the same spot where you tried to touch MY WIFE.” He spat the words out, emphasizing each syllable, shoving the gun harder against Ashar’s chest.

Ashar instinctively tried to move back, but Ayaan’s grip on his collar dragged him closer. “Huh… got scared?” Ayaan let out a dangerous chuckle, his eyes boring into Ashar’s with such fury that for a second Ashar was convinced it was the last moment of his life.

“You… you can’t,” Ashar stuttered, trying to push him away. “S-so just stay away!”

But Ayaan only tightened his hold, shifting the barrel to the very spot where Ashar had once been shot. His voice was low, deadly. “What if I put another bullet right here?” His finger curled around the trigger—

“Mr. Muhammad! Your work is done—hand him over to us!”

The police officer’s voice rang out from behind. Ayaan’s back was to her. Slowly, he released Ashar’s collar, straightening his shirt as if nothing had happened.

“Thank my Islam,” he growled, his voice ice-cold, “that it does not permit me to kill. Otherwise, you would not be standing here alive.”

Ashar’s chest heaved, trying to steady his breathing, but Ayaan’s words sent shivers crawling up his spine. How could a man speak of death so calmly?

Just then, a constable called for the officer’s attention. The moment she turned, Ayaan reloaded his gun in one swift motion and fired—straight into Ashar’s already injured shoulder.

“AGHHHHH!” Ashar’s scream tore through the air as he collapsed onto the ground, clutching the wound. Tears of pain welled in his eyes.

Ayaan planted a foot firmly on the ground, leaning over him with fire blazing in his gaze. His voice thundered, each word laced with fury: