Shadin.
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 trembles, 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."
I'm frozen. Stone. My back still pressed to the wall, lungs stuck somewhere between holding breath and screaming. The only thing moving is my pulse, hammering so hard it feels like it's breaking ribs.
And then—he turns.
That fury doesn't leave his face, but when his eyes find me, his movements shift. He steps to me slow, controlled, like he knows I'll bolt if he moves too fast. His hand comes up—not grabbing, not rough—just sliding around my wrist, careful, as if his own strength might snap me.
"You okay?" His voice is softer now, but rough around the edges, like he's holding a storm behind his teeth.
The question rips me apart. Relief slams into me so hard my knees almost give. My throat clogs, tears spilling before I can stop them. I nod, sharp, messy, the sound that comes out of me closer to a sob than anything else.
Shadin's grip tightens—not crushing, grounding. "It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."
I nod again, tears blurring the edges of him, shoulders shaking, chest stuttering with breaths that feel like knives. It's not weakness—it's release. The kind that hits when you've been bracing to die and suddenly realize you're still breathing.
But the quiet doesn't last.
A laugh cuts through the garden. Low. Ugly.
"Well, well, well."
Ebrahim.
He's sprawled in the grass, lip split, blood streaking his chin, but somehow he's still smirking. Still taunting. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and chuckles again. "Who the fuck do we have here? Shadin? Fucking Shadin Raizal Tavarian?"
The name hangs heavy. A curse and a threat.
Shadin's head snaps toward him, and something in his face twists darker. He lets go of my wrist, fists curling again. His voice is a growl that could split the ground open.
"Yes. Fucking Shadin Raizal Tavarian."
Then—he moves.
One stride, two—and his fist connects with Ebrahim's face so hard the sound echoes like thunder. Ebrahim's head snaps sideways, blood spraying the grass.
And Shadin doesn't stop.
Fist.
Again.
Again.
And Again.
Each punch harder, deeper, like he's trying to break bone straight through to the earth. His jaw is locked, his teeth bared, a beast unleashed after years of silence.
I'm frozen, shaking, tears drying sharp on my face as I watch. I've never—never—seen Shadin like this. He's always calm, collected, quiet shadow in the room. And now? Now he looks like he won't stop until there's nothing left of Ebrahim but blood and dirt.
I want to move, to stop him, but my body won't obey. My feet are nailed to the stone. My heart's clawing its way out of my chest.
And then—
A sound.
Not from Shadin. Not from Ebrahim.
A growl.
"Shadin."
Female. Sharp. Venom soaked.
The second it slices through the garden, I flinch so hard my spine cracks against the wall. My stomach drops, cold flooding every vein.
Shadin freezes mid-swing, knuckles dripping red, chest heaving like he's been running through hell. His head lifts slow, his eyes locked on the source of the voice.
Yasmin Anaya Tavarian.
Ebrahim's mother. The venom of this house.
And fuck—she's standing at the edge of the garden like she's been here all along.
The air changes instantly. Heavy. Sharp. My skin prickles like needles under it.
Everyone goes silent. Everyone goes still.
Shadin's rage doesn't vanish, but it's chained, yanked back by the sheer weight of her presence. His fists unclench, dripping blood to the grass, but his body's still coiled, still dangerous.
I don't move. I don't breathe.
Because now, I'm not just trapped between Shadin's fury and Ebrahim's cruelty.
Now, I'm in Yasmin Anaya Tavarian's sights.
And that's a cage no one escapes.
"What the fuck is going on here?"
Yasmin's voice slices the air in half. It's not a question. It's a blade.
Shadin's fist halts mid-swing, still hovering above Ebrahim's bloodied face. For a split second, the world holds its breath.
Then Ebrahim, the cockroach that he is, uses the opening. He shoves Shadin back, just enough to roll onto his side and spit blood into the grass. He laughs, broken and wet, like it's all a joke.
Shadin doesn't stumble far. He squares himself again, shoulders broad, jaw locked, eyes burning holes through both of them. His voice comes out like gravel grinding.
"I'm teaching your son a lesson you clearly never taught him."
The words make my chest seize. My stomach knots so hard it hurts.
Yasmin's head whips toward him, eyes narrowing into slits. She steps forward, her heels biting into the stone with every click. The venom in her stare is enough to rot bone.
"Watch your tone, Shadin. You should know who the fuck you're talking to."
Shadin doesn't flinch. Not an inch. His chest is still heaving, knuckles still cracked and bloody, but his voice is steel.
"Oh, I know exactly who the fuck I'm talking to." He tilts his head, slow, dangerous. "And that's the fucking issue here—you. You and this spoiled piece of shit you call a son."
The words land like gunshots. Ebrahim wipes blood off his chin, grinning through split lips, like he's waiting for Yasmin to strike back on his behalf.
Her eyes narrow further, venom practically dripping from her tongue.
"You forget yourself."
Shadin takes a step forward, close enough the air between them vibrates with his fury. His voice lowers, sharper, meaner.
"No. I finally fucking remember myself. Someone had to remind your son that he's not untouchable. That just because you slither through this house with poison in your veins doesn't mean the rest of us are going to bow down to the filth you raised."
My throat goes dry. Every muscle in my body tenses, waiting for Yasmin to explode.
Ebrahim barks out a laugh, broken teeth flashing red with blood. "Oh, this is fucking rich. The quiet little cousin finally grows a pair." He spits more blood into the grass, looking up at Shadin with wild eyes. "Say more, Shadin. Say it again in front of mommy."
Shadin doesn't even glance at him. His eyes are locked on Yasmin, his whole body tight like a coiled predator.
"You want to protect him, fine. But don't stand there pretending you don't know what the fuck he's been doing. He's your reflection, aunt. Your rot, your venom, wearing skin."
The silence after that is lethal. Heavy. Like the garden itself is holding its breath.
Yasmin's lips curve—not into a smile, not into anger. Something sharper. Something that makes my stomach plummet.
"You've made a mistake, Shadin. A very dangerous mistake."
Shadin tilts his head, eyes flashing with fire.
"The only mistake I made was not beating the shit out of him sooner."
And fuck—the tension snaps tighter, the kind that says someone's about to bleed again.
"Answer the fucking question, Shadin!" Yasmin's voice rips through the air, louder, sharper, angrier now. "Why the fuck did you put your hands on my son?"
Shadin's chest is rising and falling like he's holding back an explosion. Blood stains his knuckles, fresh and raw. His jaw tightens, vein pulsing in his neck, and when he speaks, his voice comes out low, guttural.
"Because your filthy piece of shit son opened his mouth where he shouldn't have." He jabs a finger toward Ebrahim, who's still grinning like the masochist he is, teeth pink with blood. "He touched her. He talked to her like trash. He fucking disrespected her."
Yasmin's head snaps toward me—me—and the laugh that bursts from her lips isn't laughter. It's madness, venom laced with mockery. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, shoulders shaking, and then she drops it, eyes wild, fixating on me like I'm nothing.
"Fucking hell," she spits, voice rising into a half-scream, half-laugh. "You hit my son—my blood—for her? For this outsider bitch?"
The word cuts. Outsider. She makes it sound like a disease.
Heat crawls up my skin, but my throat is locked.
Shadin doesn't even blink. He doesn't step back. His growl rumbles through the garden, vibrating in my chest. "Say that again."
Yasmin arches a brow, daring him. "Why? You'll hit me next? Break your other hand for her too? She's not even yours, Shadin. She has a husband. Why the fuck do you care?"
Her words hang heavy, sharp as glass. My stomach flips because this—this is dangerous.
Shadin steps forward, and his voice drops to that terrifying low, the kind that feels like it could rip skin. "Because I fucking care about her. That enough for you?" His chest heaves, eyes burning with something that's not just anger—it's worse. It's possession. "You think I'll stand by and watch your bastard son lay his hands on her? Talk to her like she's nothing? Not a fucking chance."
Ebrahim groans out a laugh, blood bubbling on his lips. "Oh, this is gold. The loyal cousin playing white knight."
Shadin doesn't even look at him. His eyes are locked on Yasmin, his body pulled so tight it looks like he might snap. "Your son's a fucking disease. And you want to know the real reason I put him down?" He tilts his head, slow and lethal. "Because you've let him rot this family from the inside, and someone needed to remind him he bleeds like the rest of us."
Yasmin's smile dies. Her face hardens, mask of venom and rage. "You're playing a very dangerous game, Shadin."
Shadin leans closer, voice like gravel dragged across steel. "Good. I fucking like dangerous."
The silence after is suffocating. My pulse slams in my ears, because no one—no one—talks to Yasmin like that.
Yasmin's attention snaps off Shadin and lands on me like a fucking spotlight. Her voice comes out sharp enough to skin me alive.
"You've been here what—three fucking months? Three months in this family and look at you. Already turning blood against blood. Already making cousins tear each other apart over you. You filthy little outsider."
The word outsider lands harder this time, her lip curling like I carry dirt under my skin. My chest squeezes so tight I can barely breathe.
Yasmin takes a step closer, her heels stabbing into the stone with each step. "You should be ready to confront this in front of everyone. Don't think I'll let this slide. You'll stand there and face every single one of them when I tell them how you've infected this family like a disease."
My throat burns, but no sound comes out. My body's shaking before I even realize it.
Shadin moves then—sharp, sudden—putting himself between us. His voice rips through the air like thunder.
"Don't fucking put this on her."
Yasmin's eyes flash. "Get out of my way."
"No." His growl comes from somewhere deep in his chest, vibrating the space between us. His knuckles are still bleeding, his shoulders squared like he's daring her to strike. "You want to make this ugly? Then call me the outsider. Call me the problem. But don't you dare lay your poison on her. She didn't start this. Your piece of shit son did. And I'd do it again, aunt. I'd fucking break him again if he even looked at her wrong."
The air crackles. For a second, I think Yasmin might slap him, right here, in front of me. But instead, her lips curl into something more dangerous—a smile that isn't a smile.
"Careful, Shadin. You're showing your hand." Her gaze flicks between us, sharp, calculating. "And I always know what to do with men who don't know their place."
Ebrahim laughs, wet and broken, blood still on his teeth. "Come on, mother. Let's go before the little hero starts crying too."
Yasmin doesn't break her stare, not even for a blink. Then she turns, smooth as venom, hooks her arm under her son's, and drags him out of the garden. Her heels echo against the stone until the sound disappears.
The silence they leave behind is deafening.
I realize then that I'm shaking. My hands won't stay still, my chest heaving too fast, like I can't get enough air in.
"Arshila." Shadin's voice is softer now. Rough, but softer. He crouches in front of me, his bloody knuckles hovering in the air like he doesn't know where to put them. His eyes scan my face, burning with the kind of fury that isn't for me, but for everything around me. "Hey. Breathe. You're okay. Look at me."
I do. Against my will, I do.
"Don't let her get in your head," he says, voice low, steady, like he's trying to anchor me. "She wants to make you feel like you don't belong here. That's her weapon. Don't hand it to her."
"I—" My voice cracks, and I hate it. "I didn't— I didn't do anything."
"I know." His jaw flexes, eyes cutting toward the path Yasmin disappeared down. "That's why she hates you. Because you don't even have to do anything to threaten her. Just being here is enough."
He sits back on his heels, tilting his head until I finally take a deep breath. His lips twitch—not a smile, but something close, like he's trying to coax me back to myself. "See? There she is. That's my Arshila."
The words hit somewhere I don't want them to. My pulse stumbles.
He notices. Of course he notices. His hand lifts like he wants to touch me, then stalls halfway, fist curling. "Don't ever let her make you think you're alone in this house. You're not. As long as I'm breathing, you're not."
Shadin's still talking—his voice low, rough, words spilling like gravel. Something about Yasmin, about Ebrahim, about not letting them win. His mouth is moving but it's like I'm under water. Everything sounds muffled, blurry.
My eyes are on him but my head's somewhere else.
Zayan.
Where the fuck is he?
I'm sitting here on cold stone, hands shaking, heart hammering against my ribs hard enough to bruise, and all I can think is: if he was here, this wouldn't have gone this far. If he was here, Ebrahim wouldn't have touched me, Yasmin wouldn't have dared.
I don't even know why my brain runs to him. Hate him. Hate everything about him. And still—when my body wants safety, it doesn't reach for Shadin's voice, it reaches for him.
Show your face, Zayan.
Shadin's hand comes closer, bloody knuckles hovering near mine, but I pull back like the contact will burn me. He stops, eyes flicking up to mine, reading something he doesn't understand.
"Arshila," he says again, firmer. "You're okay. I've got you."
I swallow hard, eyes darting to the path Yasmin took. My chest still heaves, but my voice comes out quiet, shaky. "I just… want to go back inside."
Shadin nods, slow, like he wants to say more but knows I won't hear it. He stands, offers me his hand.
And in my head, the only thing pounding louder than my pulse is that one thought, ugly and raw:
Where the fuck are you, Zayan?
______________
ZAYAN 'S POV
The wheel's slick under my palms, the hum of the engine eating miles like it doesn't give a fuck about time. Half an hour on the road, and my head's not where it should be. Not on Damien. Not on the goddamn deal.
Something's off.
It keeps circling me, gnawing like a dog on bone—the fucking pieces that don't line up. Izar. My right hand. My shadow. The one person who doesn't make mistakes.
Except now he's making them.
Two days ago: split lip. He brushed it off with that calm soldier tone, said it was "training." Bullshit. He doesn't spar sloppy enough to get split. Not him. He lied, straight to my face, and I let it pass because I thought—fine, let the man keep his scraps of privacy.
Then today—phone gone. Missing. Vanished from under his watch. A bodyguard losing his line of communication? That's not an accident. That's a breach.
And stacked on top of it—the way he's been looking. Too sharp. Too silent. Like he's hiding something that involves her.
Her.
No coincidence. None of this is fucking coincidence.
My jaw grinds as I take the next turn too hard, the back wheels screaming across asphalt. The engine growls, begging me to unleash it, and I let it, tires biting deep as I drift across the lane. My hand's already sliding to the phone, thumb hitting Damien's number before I even think.
He picks up on the second ring, smug voice spilling through.
"Hey Adam, you close?"
I stare at the road slicing out in front of me, pulse hammering. The deal's right there. Within reach. And yet—
"Damien," I say, voice low, calm, colder than I feel. "Maybe we should make the deal another day, okay? Today is not the day."
Silence. Then his laugh, sharp through the speaker. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing." The word comes flat, clipped. I don't give him a chance to dig. I hang up and slam my foot down, engine snarling as the car rockets back toward Tavarian estate.
Every mile feels heavier, like I'm not just driving—I'm being dragged. By what? By who? Doesn't fucking matter. All I know is I need to see it with my own eyes.
By the time the gates swallow me, I've got that taste in my mouth—the one I get before a fight. Metallic. Close to blood.
I cut straight into the garage, brakes screaming as I swing into the bay. Door up, air sharp and hot. And there he is.
Izar.
Waiting. Standing there like he knew I'd come back. Like he expected me to ditch Damien and floor it home.
The sight makes something in my chest lock tight. Because this isn't the look of a man guarding a house. This is the look of a man standing in front of a storm he knows he can't outrun.
I kill the engine, door slamming open, and I climb out slow. No rush. No questions. Just my eyes on him.
He doesn't flinch. Doesn't drop his stare. But he doesn't move either. His jaw's tight, hands flexing at his sides like he can't decide whether to hold steady or clench into fists.
I don't speak. I don't need to.
He breaks first. His voice is quiet, guttural, like dragging the words out hurts.
"I fucked up."
That's it. That's all he gives me.
I let the silence stretch, long enough for him to feel it digging under his skin. My jaw ticks, slow blink holding him in place. My voice comes out low, even, dangerous.
"I'll deal with you later."
I step closer, boots grinding on the garage floor, until there's no space left between what he's hiding and what I already fucking know. My eyes don't leave his.
"after i know the truth "
My chest is calm, but inside? My blood's a riot. Because whatever it is—it touched her. I know it. And if he's saying he's fucked up, then it's worse than I imagined.
And God help whoever dared to touch her while I wasn't here.
📍
---
Hey everyone, I want to deeply apologize—yesterday I accidentally uploaded Chapter 88 instead of 87. I know some of you were probably wondering what was happening in the plot, and I'm really sorry for the confusion.
To make up for it, here's Chapter 87 uploaded correctly… and as a small gift for the mix-up, I'm also uploading one extra chapter. Consider it a little thank-you for your patience and understanding.
I really hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for sticking with me!