Episode 23: You Should've Stayed Dead
The sound of the shattering glass still rang in Aaniya's head as everything happened too fast to comprehend.
Her lungs burned. Her ears roared with the downpour hammering the roof, mixing with the acrid stench of smoke and gunpowder. A crushing weight pinned her to the floor, and only when she felt the heat of his breath near her ear did her mind catch up—
Suleman.
His arm was locked around her waist, his body shielding hers from the rain of glass shards cutting into the floor. Her heart pounded so violently it almost drowned out the ringing in her ears. She could barely breathe.
"When I say run…" His whisper was low, urgent, brushing the shell of her ear. "…you run."
A shiver shot through her—not just from fear, but from the raw closeness of him. His chest pressed to her back, his breath warm against her damp hair. For a split second, the chaos outside blurred, and all she felt was him.
Then another gunshot exploded, splintering the wall behind them.
Suleman didn't hesitate. His hand clamped around hers, yanking her up. "Move!"
Aaniya stumbled forward, bare feet skidding on shards, adrenaline making her limbs tremble. The house that once felt safe now roared with danger. They tore through the kitchen, every shadow a threat, until they burst into the back corridor—
Pitch dark.
Emergency lights flickered weakly, making the wet tiles glow an eerie red. The back door gaped open, rain slashing through the gap as wind howled like a living thing.
"Who is that?" Aaniya's voice cracked, breath ragged. "What do they want?"
Suleman didn't look at her. His jaw was stone, his eyes scanning the door. "Not you," he said, voice like steel. "Me."
Something flickered in his tone—anger, regret, something darker. Then, almost too low for her to catch: "I should've ended this long ago."
Her chest tightened. Ended what? Who?
But before she could ask again, he gripped her hand tighter and yanked her out into the storm.
---
Rain was everywhere—pummeling her skin, soaking her hair, clinging like icy fingers. The streets glowed silver under broken streetlights, turning every shadow into a ghost.
They ran low, ducking into side alleys slick with rainwater. Suleman moved like a man who'd done this before—eyes sharp, steps deliberate, his gun gleaming wet in his hand.
"Why are they after you?" Aaniya gasped between breaths. "Tell me!"
"Not here," he barked, never slowing.
Fear twisted in her chest, tangled with something else—frustration, helplessness… and the strange sense of safety in the way his grip anchored her to him.
---
By the time they stumbled into an old warehouse on the edge of the industrial strip, Aaniya was drenched, shivering so hard her teeth chattered.
The place smelled of rust and rain-soaked wood. Broken windows rattled as wind howled through them. Suleman slammed the door shut, bolting it, then swept the room with his gun raised—every muscle coiled like a predator.
"Suleman…" Her voice shook as she caught his arm, desperate to stop the relentless motion. "Are you going to tell me now?"
For a long beat, only the storm answered. Then he turned, shadows carving hard lines across his face.
"That voice…" His words were measured, heavy. "…he's someone I once trusted."
"Who?"
"Someone who wants to destroy everything left of me… and maybe you."
The silence that followed pressed on her chest. She was still trembling when he suddenly shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. The warmth of it—and of his fingers lingering a second too long at her collarbone—made her breath hitch.
Her lips parted, questions dying on her tongue as her gaze lifted to his. For a moment, the storm outside didn't matter. Only the storm between them did.
Then—BANG!
A door slammed somewhere in the warehouse. Both of them froze.
False alarm. Just the wind.
But the fear came crashing back, and this time, it brought something else with it—because when her eyes dropped, she saw the folded paper still clutched in his fist.
Before he could hide it, she snatched it.
Bold black letters glared up at her:
"You can't protect her. Not this time."
Her blood turned to ice. "What does this mean? Why me?"
Suleman's jaw tightened. "Because they know what you saw… and what you might find out."
"Find out what?"
His gaze met hers then—dark, heavy with something that looked like guilt. "That the man you married… wasn't who you thought."
The words struck like a blow. "Aaliyaan…?" Her voice cracked.
Suleman's eyes burned. "I knew him. Long before you did. We were in the same circle—business, money… things you don't want to know."
Her heart thudded painfully. "And when he died? Was that you?"
He stepped closer, eyes fierce, rain still dripping from his hair onto his face. "If I wanted him dead," he said quietly, "he wouldn't have suffered."
The way he said it—calm, deadly certain—sent a chill racing down her spine.
Before she could speak, the lights flickered… then died.
Darkness swallowed them whole, broken only by lightning flashing through the broken panes. Aaniya stumbled, panic clawing at her throat—until strong arms caught her.
Her face pressed to his chest, heartbeat pounding against her cheek. Rain from his hair traced cold paths down her skin, but his grip was unyielding, grounding.
"You think I'd let anything happen to you?" he whispered.
The words burned through the darkness. For one dangerous, breathless second, everything inside her stilled—except the part that wasn't fear at all.
Then—
Footsteps.
Multiple. Closing in.
Suleman cursed under his breath, pulling her behind a stack of crates. His hand gripped hers tight enough to hurt.
"If they catch you, they won't keep you alive," he murmured.
Her pulse skittered wildly as voices echoed through the warehouse:
"Suleman… come out. No need to make this messy."
She felt him go still beside her, every muscle thrumming like a wire. Then, low and sharp: "When I move, you follow. No sound."
They edged toward a broken window, boots crunching on glass, rain hissing through cracks. Freedom was just a breath away—
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking behind them.
Aaniya froze, every drop of blood draining from her face. Slowly, she turned.
And her breath caught in her throat.
Because the man holding the gun—smiling like death—was someone she knew.
A familiar voice, low and amused, cut through the storm.
"Going somewhere?"
The barrel pressed to Suleman's head.
"You should've stayed dead, Suleman."
---
TO BE CONTINUED…
Episode 23: You Should've Stayed Dead
The world shattered with the glass.
For a heartbeat, Aaniya didn't even know if the scream echoing inside her head was hers. All she knew was the deafening crack, the sharp hiss of rain through the broken windows, and the weight crushing her down—hot, heavy, alive.
Suleman.
Her breath seized when she felt him—his body shielding hers like a wall, his arm iron-tight around her waist, the pounding of his heart matching the chaos in her chest. The floor was cold and slick beneath her palms, and shards bit into her skin, but she barely registered the pain.
Everything else blurred except the rough rasp of his whisper at her ear.
"When I say run…" His voice was low, dark, vibrating against her skin. "…you run."
She couldn't even nod. The words tangled in the tremor of her breath as she inhaled the scent of him—gunpowder and rain and something raw that didn't belong to this world of blood and glass.
Then—another shot.
The wall behind them splintered. Aiyana flinched, but Suleman didn't. He moved like a force of nature—hauling her up, his grip a vice on her wrist.
"Move!"
She stumbled after him, barefoot, shards slicing at her soles as adrenaline blurred the sting. The hall twisted around them, the flicker of emergency lights painting everything a hellish red.
"Who—who is it?" she gasped, the words tearing from her throat as the wind howled through the broken door ahead. "What do they want?"
Suleman didn't glance back. His jaw clenched like stone. "Not you." His voice was a blade cutting through the storm. "Me."
Her stomach dropped.
But then, softer—just for him, not for her: "I should've ended this long ago."
Her breath caught. Ended what? Who? The question burned, but there was no space to ask—because in the next second, the night swallowed them whole.
---
Rain hit like knives.
It soaked her in seconds, flattening her hair to her face, plastering her clothes to her skin until every inch of her felt raw and exposed. The city blurred—silver lights bleeding into black, streets glistening like mirrors under broken lamps.
Suleman never let go of her hand.
He pulled her through the maze of alleys like a man who owned the darkness, head turning, scanning, gun glinting wet in his grip. The storm drowned out everything except their breaths and the slap of water under their feet.
"Why are they after you?" she cried, her voice breaking, chest heaving as her lungs begged for air. "Tell me!"
His only answer was a hard look over his shoulder, rain running down the sharp planes of his face, his eyes like thunder itself.
"Not here."
The words cracked something inside her. Fear. Anger. Helplessness. All tangled with the maddening truth that even now—even now—some part of her felt safe with him.
And that terrified her most of all.
---
The warehouse loomed like a beast out of the storm—hulking, hollow-eyed, its ribs of rusted steel rising against the sky.
By the time they stumbled inside, her teeth were chattering, her soaked clothes clinging like ice. The place smelled of old iron and rain-rotted wood. Broken windows gaped overhead, spilling lightning like jagged knives.
Suleman kicked the door shut and bolted it in one smooth move. His gun swept the corners, every muscle wound tight.
Aaniya couldn't take it anymore. "Suleman!" Her voice cracked as she grabbed his arm. "Are you going to tell me now? What is happening?"
For a second, his eyes locked on hers—wild, dark, burning with something that didn't look like fear but something worse. Regret.
"That voice…" His tone was low, almost drowned by the storm. "…he's someone I once trusted."
The air between them thickened. "Who?" she whispered.
His jaw tightened. "Someone who wants to destroy everything left of me." His gaze flicked over her, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "…And maybe you."
Aaniya froze.
Before she could speak, he shrugged off his coat and swung it over her shoulders. The weight of it, the heat of it—it felt like a shield, and yet the brush of his fingers at her collarbone sent a shiver racing through her veins.
Her lips parted, questions fighting for breath—but then her eyes caught something.
The folded paper.
Still clutched in his fist.
She snatched it before he could stop her.
The words screamed up at her in jagged black letters:
"You can't protect her. Not this time."
Her blood iced. "What does this mean? Why me?"
His silence burned worse than an answer.
"Suleman!" Her voice cracked, hoarse with fear.
Finally, he spoke—rough, low. "Because they know what you saw. And what you might find out."
"Find out what?"
Lightning slashed the dark, and in its glow, she saw his face—the shadows, the guilt.
"That the man you married… wasn't who you thought."
Her heart lurched. "Aaliyaan…?"
Suleman's jaw set. "I knew him. Long before you did. We were in the same circle. Business. Money. Things you can't imagine."
Her voice shook. "And when he died… was that you?"
He stepped closer, the storm burning in his eyes. "If I wanted him dead," he said, every word a blade, "he wouldn't have suffered."
The quiet after that was worse than gunfire.
Then—the lights went out.
Total darkness.
Aaniya stumbled with a sharp cry—but his arms were there, catching her, caging her against the wall. Her cheek pressed to his chest, and his heartbeat thundered like war drums against her skin.
"You think I'd let anything happen to you?" he whispered, his breath hot against her temple.
Her breath trembled. Her fingers curled in his shirt without thinking. For one impossible second, fear wasn't the only thing in her chest.
Then—footsteps.
More than one. Closing in.
Suleman tensed, his body turning to steel around her. "Damn it," he hissed under his breath, pulling her behind a stack of crates.
His hand gripped hers, grounding, burning. "If they catch you, they won't keep you alive," he murmured.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as voices cut through the warehouse like knives:
"Suleman… come out. No need to make this messy."
The shadows crawled closer, heavy with death.
"When I move, you follow. No sound." His breath brushed her ear, his gun steady in his other hand.
They slipped toward a shattered window, the wind shrieking through its jagged mouth. Freedom was a breath away—
Click.
The sound was soft. Deadly.
A gun cocked behind them.
Aaniya froze, ice flooding her veins. Slowly, she turned—and the breath ripped out of her lungs.
Because the man standing there—the man with the gun aimed at Suleman's head—wasn't a stranger.
It was someone she knew.
The smile on his face was pure venom as he spoke.
"Going somewhere?"
Rain streamed down the barrel of the gun as he tilted his head, voice like a blade.
"You should've stayed dead, Suleman.
The sound of the shattering glass still rang in Aaniya's head as everything happened too fast to comprehend.
Her lungs burned. Her ears roared with the downpour hammering the roof, mixing with the acrid stench of smoke and gunpowder. A crushing weight pinned her to the floor, and only when she felt the heat of his breath near her ear did her mind catch up—
Suleman.
His arm was locked around her waist, his body shielding hers from the rain of glass shards cutting into the floor. Her heart pounded so violently it almost drowned out the ringing in her ears. She could barely breathe.
"When I say run…" His whisper was low, urgent, brushing the shell of her ear. "…you run."
A shiver shot through her—not just from fear, but from the raw closeness of him. His chest pressed to her back, his breath warm against her damp hair. For a split second, the chaos outside blurred, and all she felt was him.
Then another gunshot exploded, splintering the wall behind them.
Suleman didn't hesitate. His hand clamped around hers, yanking her up. "Move!"
Aaniya stumbled forward, bare feet skidding on shards, adrenaline making her limbs tremble. The house that once felt safe now roared with danger. They tore through the kitchen, every shadow a threat, until they burst into the back corridor—
Pitch dark.
Emergency lights flickered weakly, making the wet tiles glow an eerie red. The back door gaped open, rain slashing through the gap as wind howled like a living thing.
"Who is that?" Aaniya's voice cracked, breath ragged. "What do they want?"
Suleman didn't look at her. His jaw was stone, his eyes scanning the door. "Not you," he said, voice like steel. "Me."
Something flickered in his tone—anger, regret, something darker. Then, almost too low for her to catch: "I should've ended this long ago."
Her chest tightened. Ended what? Who?
But before she could ask again, he gripped her hand tighter and yanked her out into the storm.
---
Rain was everywhere—pummeling her skin, soaking her hair, clinging like icy fingers. The streets glowed silver under broken streetlights, turning every shadow into a ghost.
They ran low, ducking into side alleys slick with rainwater. Suleman moved like a man who'd done this before—eyes sharp, steps deliberate, his gun gleaming wet in his hand.
"Why are they after you?" Aaniya gasped between breaths. "Tell me!"
"Not here," he barked, never slowing.
Fear twisted in her chest, tangled with something else—frustration, helplessness… and the strange sense of safety in the way his grip anchored her to him.
---
By the time they stumbled into an old warehouse on the edge of the industrial strip, Aaniya was drenched, shivering so hard her teeth chattered.
The place smelled of rust and rain-soaked wood. Broken windows rattled as wind howled through them. Suleman slammed the door shut, bolting it, then swept the room with his gun raised—every muscle coiled like a predator.
"Suleman…" Her voice shook as she caught his arm, desperate to stop the relentless motion. "Are you going to tell me now?"
For a long beat, only the storm answered. Then he turned, shadows carving hard lines across his face.
"That voice…" His words were measured, heavy. "…he's someone I once trusted."
"Who?"
"Someone who wants to destroy everything left of me… and maybe you."
The silence that followed pressed on her chest. She was still trembling when he suddenly shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. The warmth of it—and of his fingers lingering a second too long at her collarbone—made her breath hitch.
Her lips parted, questions dying on her tongue as her gaze lifted to his. For a moment, the storm outside didn't matter. Only the storm between them did.
Then—BANG!
A door slammed somewhere in the warehouse. Both of them froze.
False alarm. Just the wind.
But the fear came crashing back, and this time, it brought something else with it—because when her eyes dropped, she saw the folded paper still clutched in his fist.
Before he could hide it, she snatched it.
Bold black letters glared up at her:
"You can't protect her. Not this time."
Her blood turned to ice. "What does this mean? Why me?"
Suleman's jaw tightened. "Because they know what you saw… and what you might find out."
"Find out what?"
His gaze met hers then—dark, heavy with something that looked like guilt. "That the man you married… wasn't who you thought."
The words struck like a blow. "Aaliyaan…?" Her voice cracked.
Suleman's eyes burned. "I knew him. Long before you did. We were in the same circle—business, money… things you don't want to know."
Her heart thudded painfully. "And when he died? Was that you?"
He stepped closer, eyes fierce, rain still dripping from his hair onto his face. "If I wanted him dead," he said quietly, "he wouldn't have suffered."
The way he said it—calm, deadly certain—sent a chill racing down her spine.
Before she could speak, the lights flickered… then died.
Darkness swallowed them whole, broken only by lightning flashing through the broken panes. Aaniya stumbled, panic clawing at her throat—until strong arms caught her.
Her face pressed to his chest, heartbeat pounding against her cheek. Rain from his hair traced cold paths down her skin, but his grip was unyielding, grounding.
"You think I'd let anything happen to you?" he whispered.
The words burned through the darkness. For one dangerous, breathless second, everything inside her stilled—except the part that wasn't fear at all.
Then—
Footsteps.
Multiple. Closing in.
Suleman cursed under his breath, pulling her behind a stack of crates. His hand gripped hers tight enough to hurt.
"If they catch you, they won't keep you alive," he murmured.
Her pulse skittered wildly as voices echoed through the warehouse:
"Suleman… come out. No need to make this messy."
She felt him go still beside her, every muscle thrumming like a wire. Then, low and sharp: "When I move, you follow. No sound."
They edged toward a broken window, boots crunching on glass, rain hissing through cracks. Freedom was just a breath away—
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking behind it