Ruthless Ties

Chapter 4: Do You Have A Name

Zayaan Khilji moved through the darkened streets of Hunza like a shadow, his presence barely a whisper in the chill night air. He was no stranger to the cold; it matched the frozen edges of his heart. The familiar streets, the crisp mountain air tinged with the scent of pine—all reminders of a past he'd rather forget. He moved silently, his expression concealed beneath the hood of his black coat, blending seamlessly into the night.

He stopped at the edge of the orphanage, Khushhal Basti, a place he had vowed never to return to. Its warm glow stood in stark contrast to his darkness, a beacon of light that no longer welcomed him. A flicker of hesitation crossed his features, but he turned away, his resolve unbroken.

A movement caught his eye—a girl, but before he could see her face, the world around Zayaan exploded into chaos. A van screeched to a halt beside him, and in an instant, rough hands grabbed him, yanking him backward. A black mask was shoved over his face, cutting off his sight, and his struggles were useless against the sheer number of attackers. He felt a sharp sting on his neck, and darkness swallowed him whole.

Zoya froze, her eyes wide with horror, unable to process what was happening. The van, the masked men, the violence—it all happened too fast. She was about to scream when one of the kidnappers caught sight of her. For a second, they locked eyes, and she turned to flee, but it was too late. Rough hands caught her, the same cold prick of a needle digging into her skin, and then everything went black.

The cold was the first thing Zoya felt as she slowly regained consciousness. She opened her eyes to find herself in a small, barren room. The dim light from a single flickering bulb in the bathroom was the only illumination, casting long shadows on the cracked walls. Her hands were free, but the door was locked tight. Panic clawed at her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm.

Where was she? What had happened? Then she remembered—the van, the masked men, someone's kidnapping. She shuddered and backed away, only to freeze when she heard the muffled sounds of violence coming from somewhere outside her door.

In another room, Zayaan hung suspended from the ceiling, his arms tied behind his back, his body swaying slightly. Blood dripped from his split lip, and bruises were already forming on his face and ribs. Two men were taking turns beating him with fists and batons, but he didn't make a sound, refusing to give them the satisfaction. Pain was something he was well acquainted with, and he could tell they weren't going to kill him. Not yet.

"Enough," a third man barked as he entered the room, halting the attack. "We can't kill him. The boss wants to do it himself. He'll be here in two days."

"So what do we do with him until then?" asked one of the thugs, wiping blood from his knuckles.

"Throw him in with the girl," the man ordered. "They'll be easier to watch if they're together, and fix his face."

One of the other men snickered. "And what about the girl? Can't we have some fun with her while we wait?"

The leader shot him a dangerous look. "Touch her, and I'll kill you myself. The boss will decide what happens to her, but if he doesn't want her... we'll have our fun then."

They dragged Zayaan, now unconscious, down a narrow hallway and shoved him into Zoya's room, tossing a small first aid kit onto the floor after him. "Fix him," one of them sneered at Zoya before slamming the door shut behind him.

In front of her, a man lay crumpled on the floor, covered in bruises and cuts. His face, partially obscured by blood, was rugged and harsh, even in unconsciousness. She didn't know who he was, but she could tell they did to him. Taking a shaky breath, Zoya crawled toward him, her hands trembling as she pulled the small first aid kit closer.