Forever His

Chapter 73: Blood And Vows

Mahnoor's POV:

The meeting starts with ease. I sit beside Shahmeer at the long, polished table, a notebook open in front of me, ready to prove myself useful. The room buzzes with conversation about expanding the Jafri chain to Italy—prime locations in Florence, Venice, and Rome. They're discussing projected profits, feasibility studies, and the importance of cultural alignment with the brand.

Shahmeer dominates the room with his presence—sharp, assertive, and in complete control. I feel proud, quietly admiring him while pretending not to stare too much.

Sudenly, I feel his hand on my arm. Before I can process it, he grabs me, pulling me into his chest, covering one ear with his broad hand and the other with his chest. The move is protective, swift, and alarming.

I hear a deafening bang. My heart leaps in my chest.

I look up, dazed, only to see one of the men slump forward onto the table, blood pooling beneath him. My ears are ringing, my body frozen in place. Shahmeer lowers the gun in his hand like he's done nothing out of the ordinary. The room goes silent—no one dares to breathe.

He doesn't even glance at me. His voice is sharp, colder than I've ever heard it. "If any of you look at my wife like that, you'll also end up like him." He points the gun at the remaining men at the table, his expression unreadable, terrifying.

I realize I'm trembling. Look at me like that? What did he mean?

He waves his hand dismissively. "Guards. Take him away."

Two guards rush in and drag the lifeless body out of the room. My stomach churns. I can't tear my eyes away from the blood-stained chair. I'm about to speak—to ask him what the hell just happened—when his cold voice cuts through the tension again.

"Sit down," he commands.

I flinch, but I obey, sinking back into my chair in stunned silence. My hands are trembling so badly I can't hold my pen. My thoughts are spinning, trying to make sense of what just happened.

And then, as if nothing had happened, Shahmeer carries on with the meeting. The others follow his lead, speaking cautiously but continuing the discussion. Their calmness unnerves me even more. How can they act so normal?

I can't.

I feel his hand on my thigh under the table, warm and steady. My instinct is to find comfort in his touch, but I can't. My heart races, and this time it's not in the way it usually does when he's near me. I jerk my leg away, unable to look at him. My mind keeps replaying the sound of the gunshot, the sight of blood, Shahmeer's calm demeanor.

Finally, the meeting concludes. The men file out of the room, one by one, like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. My chair scrapes loudly against the floor as I stand, desperate to get away.

I head for the door, notebook clutched tightly in my shaking hands.

"Mahnoor," Shahmeer calls, his voice low but commanding.

I don't stop. I can't stop. My legs move on their own, carrying me out of the room and down the hall. I don't even know where I'm going—I just need to get away from him, from that room, from what just happened.

My chest feels tight, my breaths shallow. The man I thought I was beginning to understand just killed someone without hesitation. And now I don't know if I'm more afraid of him or for him.

                                                                                  ____________

I'm walking fast, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floors. My mind is spinning, my body trembling. I don't know where I'm going, but I just need to be away from him—away from what just happened. The sound of the gunshot still rings in my ears, and the image of the lifeless man slumped over the table is burned into my mind.