"Princesa."
That one fucking word slices through me.
I turn, slow, even though every nerve in my body screams don't. And there he is—Ebrahim, walking out of the hallway shadows like he owns the ground. Black clothes, smug face. That fucking smirk that makes my skin crawl like ants.
My heart's pounding so hard I'm half-convinced he can hear it. No way out. Not here. Not now.
Don't show it. Don't let him see.
I square my shoulders, even though my hands are shaking at my sides. My voice scrapes out, steadier than I feel.
"Where's Izar?"
That earns me a laugh—low, sharp, mean. "Izar?" He tilts his head, mocking, eyes gleaming like he's got me cornered. "That dog?"
My stomach sinks.
He slides something out of his pocket, casual, like he's pulling a lighter. But it's not a lighter. It's a phone. Not just any phone. My breath stutters when I recognize the case.
Izar's phone.
Cold rushes down my spine.
So that text wasn't a mistake. Wasn't him at all. The "babe" wasn't a fucking typo. It was a trap.
Ebrahim grins when my face tightens. He waves the phone once like he's showing off a trophy. "Looking for this?"
"You're playing a dangerous game," I say, voice rough but pushed through my teeth like steel. My pulse is losing its fucking mind, but I keep my chin up. "You won't get away with it."
He chuckles. Not the kind of laugh that fades quick—the kind that digs in, loud, mocking. He even lifts his hands in fake surrender. "Oh? Dangerous? Shit, princesa, I'm shaking." He gives a dramatic shiver, eyes burning holes in me. "So scared."
I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. My hands curl into fists at my sides, but I force myself still. "You'll face the consequences of this."
That sets him off again, another laugh—uglier, sharper. "Consequences?" He steps closer, closing the distance one slow, taunting stride at a time. My legs twitch like they want to move back, but I nail my feet to the ground.
"Tell me, who's gonna bring those consequences?" His smile widens, sick with glee. "Izar?" He holds up the phone again, gives it a lazy shake. "That loyal dog of your husband? He's not coming."
My throat locks.
He doesn't stop. "Or maybe your savior husband, hmm? Adam Zayan Tavarian. The almighty heir. The one everyone bows to." His lip curls, voice dripping venom. "Guess what? He's gone, princesa. I mean gone."
The words slam into me. My chest's tight, breaths shallow, but I don't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not here. Not for him.
Ebrahim leans forward, close enough I feel his breath ghost across my skin. Smirk carved into his face like a scar. "So tell me… who the fuck's gonna save you now?"
My throat's dry, but the words rip out anyway.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
He barks out a laugh like I just told the funniest joke in the world. Hands shoved in his pockets, rocking on his heels, like this is a fucking game night.
"Why?" His grin cuts wider. "Because it's fun, princesa. Because I like watching you finally get it. That truth no one else dares tell you."
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. "What truth?"
"That you don't matter here." His eyes sweep over me, slow, cruel. "That no one's coming. That you're nothing but a pretty little stray someone dragged in off the street."
The word slams into me like a punch. My chest burns.
"Don't fucking call me that."
"Ohhh." He tilts his head, mocking like a snake that learned how to smile. "Feisty, huh? Hit a nerve?" His voice dips low, mean. "People always get mad when they hear their real position. And yours, princesa, is right where Zayan put you—on a leash, in the dirt, a fucking stray he picked up because it amused him."
My teeth grind. My eyes sting, traitor tears pricking at the corners, but my face stays stone. Angry stone. I will not break in front of him.
"Zayan will fucking kill you." My voice cracks like glass, but I push it harder, sharper. "The second he finds out you touched me—he'll rip you apart."
That earns the ugliest laugh yet. He throws his head back like he's actually enjoying himself.
"Zayan?" He spits the name out, derision dripping from every syllable. "Nah. He won't. You really think he gives a shit about you like that? About anyone like that?"
I swallow hard, throat thick, because fuck—deep down I know he's twisting the knife where it hurts most.
Ebrahim leans in, eyes locked on mine, grin sharp as blades. "Let me guess. You told yourself he'd protect you, right? That you were different? Special?" He clicks his tongue. "Sweetheart, he doesn't even want you. He doesn't even treat you like he wants you. You think he's gonna risk his precious empire to kill me over a bitch he barely touches? Not a chance."
The words splinter through me. My chest cracks open, but all he sees is the anger on my face. My insides are breaking, but my jaw is still set, my glare still locked.
And he fucking knows it. That's why his smirk deepens. That's why he pushes harder.
"Face it, princesa. You're alone. And the faster you accept it, the better for you. Because Zayan?" He shakes his head slow, savoring it. "Zayan doesn't care. Not even a little."
My stomach twists, hot and hollow, but I don't give him the satisfaction of seeing me fold. Not yet.
He starts moving. Slow. Measured.
And my feet move back on instinct, one step, then another, until—fuck. Cold stone presses into my spine. The wall. Behind me, nothing but fence, walls too high to scale. A cage inside a cage.
No way out.
"Stay the fuck away from me," I snap, voice cracking at the edges.
He grins like I just flirted. "Why?"
I shove at his chest, hard. My palms sting from the force, but he doesn't even stumble. Doesn't move an inch. He just tilts his head, smirk glued to his face like he's daring me to try again.
"Try harder, baby."
My hands shake, traitor tremors I can't stop. Rage, fear, both knotted together.
His voice drops lower, filthier. "You know what you are?" His eyes drag down me, slow, invasive. "Just a concubine for Zayan. A fucking whore he keeps because it's convenient."
My stomach twists, bile sharp in my throat.
"And that means I can make you mine too. Why not?" He leans closer, breath hot and ugly against my face. "Believe me, princesa, I'll treat you better than anyone. I'll put you on a throne you don't deserve, just for me. All you'll have to do is arch prettier when I tell you to."
Rage coils inside me, burning hotter than the fear. My chest heaves, nails digging into my palms until I feel skin break.
And before I can think twice, my hand flies up.
The crack echoes through the garden, sharp and brutal. My palm stings like fire but fuck—it's worth it.
His head snaps to the side. A red print blooms across his cheek.
I'm breathing hard, chest rising and falling, every nerve lit up. "Don't you ever—ever—put your fucking mouth on my name like that again."
Silence. Dead, dangerous silence.
Then—he turns his face back, slow, eyes glittering dark.
And that smirk? It doesn't fade. It widens.
His cheek is still burning red from my slap, but instead of backing down like any sane man, he laughs. Low. Sick.
And then—he slams me against the wall.
The impact knocks the air from my lungs. Stone bites into my spine, my skull rattles. His hand clamps around my wrist, so fucking tight I swear bones are about to snap.
"Let me go!" My voice tears out of me, raw.
He leans in closer, eyes wild. "Let you go? You think you get to tell me what to do, princesa?" His grip tightens, wrist screaming under his fingers. "No. You listen. You shut that filthy mouth before I show you what you're really worth."
I try twisting free, nails digging into his arm, but he doesn't even flinch. He just presses me harder into the wall, chest pinning me there like a goddamn cage.
"You think Zayan gives a shit?" His voice is loud now, sharp, echoing off the stone. "He doesn't. He's not coming. He wouldn't come for you even if he knew. Because you're nothing. You're a stray, a fucking castoff he keeps around for fun."
My teeth grind so hard my jaw aches. "Fuck you."
He laughs again, uglier, spittle hitting my face. "No, princesa. That's the point. Fuck you. That's all you're good for." His free hand lifts, slow, deliberate, reaching for my face. "Concubine. Whore. A hole in silk sheets. That's what you are. And I can make you mine just as easy."
My stomach lurches, bile rising hot in my throat. I thrash, but he doesn't move. He's too strong. My wrist feels like it's splitting in two under his grip.
"Don't touch me!" I spit the words, but his fingers hover just inches from my cheek.
And then—
A blur. A sound.
Swoosh.
The world tilts. One second Ebrahim's on me, the next his body rips away like he's been torn from the earth. He hits the ground hard, grass exploding under him, air whooshing out of his lungs.
I freeze. Heart hammering so loud it fills my ears.
And then I see him.
Standing between me and Ebrahim, chest heaving, fists clenched so tight his knuckles crack. His eyes—fuck—they're bloodshot red, veins bulging like rage itself carved them into his face. His whole body is trembling, not from fear, not even close—pure rage, shaking him like a live wire.
His voice cuts out, low, guttural, dangerous. "Touch her again—" his jaw ticks, breath snarling through his teeth, "and I swear to God, Ebrahim, you won't leave this fucking garden alive."
Shadin.
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