The night was silent, its stillness punctuated only by the distant hum of guards making their rounds outside the palace walls. It was the perfect cover for Meerab's escape. Cloaked in a dark robe, she moved quietly through the stone corridors, her heart pounding as she slipped past familiar places now heavy with memories of her captivity—and of him. Each echo of her footsteps felt like a crack in the silence, a reminder that Murtasim's shadow lingered here even in his absence.
Meerab had been meticulous. She had timed everything perfectly, memorizing the patterns of the guards, studying the layout of the palace’s hidden passages. She had watched, waited, and planned, holding onto this moment with every ounce of strength she possessed. Now, with Murtasim gone, her path to freedom lay open—if only for a short time.
Reaching the edge of the main courtyard, she paused, pressing herself into the shadows as two guards strode past, their voices carrying in the quiet night. She held her breath, the minutes ticking by like hours until she was certain they were gone. With a final glance around, she sprinted across the courtyard, slipping into a narrow passageway that led to the palace’s outer walls. Here, she had arranged for a loyal servant to leave a rope—a lifeline leading over the high stone walls and into the freedom beyond.
She clutched the rope, the coarse fibers rough against her palms as she began to climb. Each pull brought her closer to the top, closer to the freedom she had craved since the moment she had been taken captive. Her muscles burned, but she ignored the pain, her gaze fixed on the night sky above, a promise of escape shining in the stars.
But as she reached the top, a flicker of doubt crept into her mind. The weight of the kingdom she had left behind, of the people who still lived under Murtasim’s rule, settled heavily on her heart. She wanted freedom, but her escape would mean abandoning them, leaving them to the mercy of a conqueror as merciless as the storms that swept across these lands.
Still, her desire for freedom won out. She climbed over the wall and dropped down onto the other side, landing on the soft earth with a thud. She was free. Or so she thought.
She had barely taken two steps when a hand clamped down on her arm, rough and unyielding. She gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she spun around, her eyes widening in shock.
Murtasim stood before her, his gaze dark, dangerous, a storm brewing within the depths of his eyes. His expression was unreadable, his face set in a mask of calm, but the tight grip on her arm betrayed the fury simmering beneath the surface.
"You thought you could leave me?" His voice was a low, deadly whisper, laced with an anger so intense that it sent chills down her spine.
She struggled against his hold, her defiance flaring up even in the face of his wrath. "I would rather die than stay here with you," she spat, her voice filled with the venom of her hatred.
Murtasim’s grip tightened, his jaw clenching as he pulled her closer, his gaze never wavering from hers. "You think you can escape me, Meerab? You think you can run from the man who conquered your kingdom, who holds your very life in his hands?"
Her heart raced, but she forced herself to meet his gaze, her eyes blazing with defiance. "You may have conquered my land, Murtasim, but you will never conquer me."
A dangerous smile curved his lips, his gaze darkening with a possessive intensity that made her blood run cold. "You are mine, Meerab," he whispered, his voice a soft, deadly promise. "And you will remain mine, no matter how far you try to run."
With a sudden, forceful movement, he pulled her into his arms, his grip unyielding as he held her close. She fought against him, her fists pounding against his chest, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger and fear. But he didn’t relent, his hold only tightening as he stared down at her, his gaze filled with a dark, possessive determination.
"You may hate me, you may resist me," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "but you will never escape me, Meerab. I will be in every shadow, in every breath you take. You belong to me."
She glared up at him, her voice a hiss of fury. "I will never belong to you."
His gaze softened, just for a moment, a flicker of something almost tender passing through his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced once more by that ruthless, unyielding determination.
"You will learn," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "You will learn that defiance will only make me hold on tighter. And when you finally realize that, Meerab, you will come to me willingly."
With that, he released her, stepping back and watching as she stumbled, struggling to regain her balance. His gaze never left her, the intensity of his stare a reminder of his power, his dominance, and the unbreakable bond he had placed on her.
"Take her back to her chambers," he ordered, his voice cold and impassive, and two guards stepped forward, their expressions stoic as they moved to obey.
Meerab's heart sank, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of his gaze. She had come so close to freedom, only to be dragged back into the darkness of his possession. But even as the guards led her away, she vowed to herself that this would not be the end. She would find another way to escape, another chance to reclaim her life and her freedom.
For now, she would play the part he demanded of her, but she would never truly surrender. She would bide her time, waiting for the moment when she could strike back, when she could finally be free of the man who held her captive.
But deep down, she knew that Murtasim would not make it easy for her. He was relentless, ruthless, and his obsession with her was a force as unyielding as the tides. He would never let her go, never allow her to escape him.
And in the dark depths of her heart, a tiny, treacherous part of her wondered if, perhaps, she didn’t want to.
