UNWILLINGLY HIS

Who is behind you?

The leader’s eyes narrowed as he studied Samaira from across the room. She hadn’t shown the slightest sign of fear, nor had her demeanor faltered since the initial shock. *Something’s off*, he thought. *No one stays this calm in a situation like this.* 

His gaze moved over her—her posture was unnervingly composed, like someone who had experienced this kind of thing before. It didn’t make sense. 

“You,” he called, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Come here.” 

Samaira stood without hesitation, walking calmly toward the center of the room, her steps deliberate and sure. The air grew heavier with each movement, the gun-toting terrorists shifting nervously as she passed them. 

“Tell me,” the leader said, his voice dripping with disdain, “why are you so calm? Why does it look like you’ve already accepted your fate?” 

Samaira stopped in front of him, meeting his gaze steadily. “I’m not calm,” she said, her voice low but unwavering. “I’m being pragmatic. The situation is what it is.” 

The leader sneered. “Pragmatic? Don’t make me laugh.” He motioned to one of his men. “We still haven’t heard a word from the government. Their refusal is irritating. Film this.” 

The terrorist stepped forward, camera in hand, and the leader turned back to Samaira, his expression darkening. 

“I think it’s time we remove that ‘facade’ of yours,” he said, his voice a low growl. He pulled a gleaming knife from his belt, the cold steel reflecting the dim light of the room. 

Samaira’s breath hitched, but her gaze never wavered as he moved toward her. He was quick, pulling her hair back and pressing the blade against her neck. She could feel the cold edge of it against her skin, the slightest pressure enough to send a shiver down her spine. 

“I won’t hesitate,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “The next video that goes out will be of your dead body, along with the others.” 

Samaira’s mind raced, but she couldn’t help herself. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, startling everyone in the room. 

The leader froze, his grip tightening on the knife as his eyes flicked from her face to the blade at her neck. 

“What are you laughing at?” he spat, his fury evident now. 

Samaira raised her eyes to meet his, the faintest smile still playing at the corner of her lips. “You probably won’t like hearing it,” she said quietly. 

His patience snapped. “Speak!” he barked, his grip on the knife tightening. “What is so damn funny?” 

Samaira’s gaze turned calculating, as if she were savoring the moment. “You must’ve thought that your end would come in a typical way,” she whispered, her voice almost soothing. “A bullet to the head, maybe a hanging, or even death by natural causes. But let me tell you this—the devil is coming for you. And it won’t be in any of those forms.” 

For a split second, the leader’s eyes widened. Panic flashed in his gaze before he quickly regained his composure. He leaned in closer, almost whispering, “Who’s behind you?” 

Before Samaira could answer, another terrorist burst into the room, his face pale and agitated. 

“Sir!” the man exclaimed, rushing toward the leader. “There’s something happening outside! Our men… they’re just falling down! They’re going down one by one like they’re being picked off!” 

The leader stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Has the military entered the area?” 

“No, sir,” the terrorist replied, his voice shaking. “It’s something... something worse.” 

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Samaira’s lips, but she quickly masked it. *So it begins,* she thought, the thrill of the impending chaos just beneath the surface of her calm. 

The leader glanced between Samaira and the terrorist, his anger bubbling to the surface. “What do you mean, something worse?” 

Before the terrorist could answer, a shout echoed from outside the room, and several of the men guarding the door scrambled to their feet. The leader’s eyes flickered to the exit, his hand gripping the hilt of his knife tighter. 

Samaira’s smile deepened, but she quickly masked it, keeping her expression unreadable as her thoughts raced. *It’s happening...* 

At that moment, Naksh and Aahana, who had been silently watching the exchange, moved quickly to intervene. 

“Enough,” Naksh said, stepping forward, his voice firm but laced with concern. “This is getting out of hand. She’s not in the right mental state for this.” 

Aahana nodded, her hands trembling as she reached for the leader’s arm. “Please,” she implored, her voice soft yet insistent. “Let her go. She’s been through enough.” 

The leader’s eyes flicked to the two of them, his fury rising again. “Stay out of this,” he warned, his voice venomous. 

But Naksh didn’t back down. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice cold. “Samaira’s not the kind of person you can break so easily.” 

Aahana stepped in front of Naksh, pleading with the leader. “Please, you’ve made your point. You’re hurting her, but it’s not going to change anything. Let her go.” 

The leader stared at them for a moment, his grip on Samaira’s arm still tight, before he glanced at the other terrorists, who were still scrambling, confused and fearful about the situation unfolding outside. 

For a moment, the room was thick with tension, until finally, the leader released his hold on Samaira. He gave her one last, withering glance before signaling for the other men to move. 

“You’re lucky, for now,” he spat. “But don’t think you’re safe. None of you are.” 

Samaira stood silently, her eyes locking with his for a moment before he turned and stormed out of the room, his men following behind. 

The second the door shut behind them, Samaira’s shoulders sagged slightly, the mask of composure slipping. Her friends crowded around her, and Naksh gently placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“You’re not fine, Samaira,” he said quietly, his voice softer now. “What the hell is going on?” 

Samaira’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes briefly flitting to the door before answering. “I’ve been in worse situations.” 

Aahana didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t press. 

Instead, she whispered, “We’ll get through this. Together. We have to.” 

Samaira offered a small, knowing smile. “We will. I don’t know how, but we will.”