The Mafia's Bride

Chapter 27

The sun dipped low in the late afternoon sky, spilling warm golden light across the college campus. Hayat lingered on the steps outside the main building, books pressed against her chest, her gaze wandering absentmindedly over the familiar pathways and chatter-filled lawns. Normally, she would’ve been laughing with Dua and Sanam, teasing Ali about something silly, or arguing playfully with Abraham. But today felt different—emptier somehow.

Hazar had left fifteen days ago. He hadn’t told her exactly where, just that it was “business.” His voice had been calm, but there was a shadow in his eyes that had unsettled her. And now, with him gone, everything felt… exposed. Vulnerable.

Hayat drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she walked toward the gates. Her friends had begged her to wait for the driver, but she had insisted she’d be fine—it wasn’t that far to the house. And maybe, deep down, she wanted the walk. The silence. The chance to think about him without interruption.

Her footsteps echoed against the pavement. She replayed their last conversation in her head, the way he had touched her hair just before leaving, as though memorizing her. The memory made her chest tighten in a way she couldn’t put into words.

A soft breeze carried the sound of a car pulling up behind her. She didn’t pay much attention at first—students’ cars often passed this way. But when the sound slowed, dragging alongside her, Hayat’s steps faltered.

“Going somewhere, princess?” a rough voice sneered.

Her heart skipped. She turned, and three men leaned against a black SUV. They weren’t strangers—not completely. She had seen them once, lurking at the edges of a restaurant where she’d been with Hazar. He had noticed them too, jaw clenching, his hand tightening protectively on hers before pulling her out quickly.

“Come on, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” another one said, stepping forward. His eyes glinted with something cruel. “Our boss wants to have a word with you.”

Hayat’s throat went dry. She took a step back, clutching her bag to her chest like a shield. “Stay away from me.”

They laughed. A low, ugly sound.

“You think walking around alone makes you untouchable just because you’re his?” one of them taunted. “Let’s see if Hazar bleeds when we touch what’s his.”

Her blood ran cold.

Before she could scream, one of them lunged forward. A hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her cry, while another yanked her arms behind her. Panic exploded in her chest. She kicked, struggled, bit down on the hand over her mouth, but it only made them angrier.

“Feisty,” the first one hissed in her ear. “He’s going to regret keeping you.”

The world blurred as they dragged her toward the SUV. Her bag fell to the ground, scattering books across the pavement. Her mind raced—Hazar. If he were here, they wouldn’t dare. If he were here, they’d already be dead.

But he wasn’t. He had left.

Tears burned her eyes as they shoved her into the backseat and slammed the door shut. Darkness and leather closed around her, the smell of cigarettes suffocating her lungs. One of them sat beside her, gripping her wrist so tightly it ached. The SUV roared to life and lurched forward.

Hayat pressed her forehead against the window, chest heaving, trying to think. What would Hazar do? What would he tell her?

Don’t panic. Don’t show fear. Look for a way out.

But the streets blurred past too quickly, and the grip on her wrist was unyielding.

Her lips trembled, but her voice came out steady, sharper than she expected. “You won’t get away with this. He’ll come for me.”