Mafia's Contracted Bride

Chapter 8

Yara’s heart pounded wildly in her chest as the echo of the intruder's voice reverberated through the grand hall. The wedding chamber, once filled with oppressive silence, was now charged with tension and fear. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her tears falling uncontrollably as she stared at the man who had burst into the room, gun in hand.

Dawood Haider Khan turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the figure who had disrupted the nikkah. The intruder stood in the doorway, his arm outstretched, holding a gun aimed directly at Rehan, one of Dawood’s closest men. The air crackled with danger, and Yara’s trembling intensified.

"Who the hell are you?" Dawood demanded, his voice low and menacing. He took a step forward, his eyes burning with fury as they locked onto the stranger. “How did you get in here?”

The man, a dark-haired figure with a wild intensity in his gaze, ignored the question. His face was tense, his jaw clenched with barely restrained anger. He kept his gun pointed at Rehan, his other hand twitching slightly at his side. "This wedding... it’s not happening," he growled through gritted teeth.

Yara's sobs grew louder, her hands clenching the delicate fabric of her wedding dress. She could barely process what was happening. Everything felt like a nightmare—Dawood’s cold, calculating demeanor, the gun pointed in the room, and the overwhelming fear coursing through her veins. Her vision blurred as more tears fell, her mind racing.

Dawood’s face twisted in rage. He moved swiftly, his hand slipping inside his coat. In one fluid motion, he pulled out his own gun, the metallic click echoing in the room as he aimed it directly at the intruder. Yara gasped, her heart nearly stopping as she saw the cold gleam of the weapon in Dawood’s hand.

"Answer me," Dawood snarled. "Who are you? How did you get into my estate?"

The man remained silent, his gun unwavering, his eyes flicking briefly toward Yara before returning to Dawood. The room was filled with an unbearable tension, the kind that made it hard to breathe. Yara sobbed, her chest heaving, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the confrontation.

Dawood’s patience snapped. “You think you can come into my house, interrupt my wedding, and not give me an answer?” His voice grew cold, deadly. He shifted his stance, his finger hovering over the trigger. "I’ll ask you one last time—who sent you?"

Still, the man refused to answer.

Yara’s breath hitched as Dawood’s eyes flickered with murderous intent. She had never seen him like this—so unrestrained, so dangerous. Her tears blurred her vision again as a wave of terror washed over her. Was someone going to die tonight? Was this man here to save her or to drag her further into the depths of despair?

Dawood’s frustration boiled over. He raised his gun, his voice an icy whisper. "Men, grab him and lock him in the cellar. We’ll find out what he’s doing here soon enough."

At Dawood’s command, two of his armed guards moved toward the intruder. The man tensed, his gun shaking slightly as they approached. For a moment, Yara thought he might fire. Her heart leaped into her throat, and her fingers clutched the sides of her dress in terror.

But the man didn’t shoot. Instead, he lowered his weapon slightly, allowing the guards to seize him. Dawood watched, his gun still trained on the intruder, his expression cold and calculating. As the guards dragged the man away, Dawood barked another order: “Inform Ali. He needs to know about this immediately.”

Yara’s blood ran cold at the mention of Ali’s name. She didn’t understand why, but something about this situation felt even more sinister. Her tears hadn’t stopped, and now they came faster, uncontrollable sobs racking her body. Her world was collapsing around her, and there was nothing she could do.