Episode 28: Bloodlines and Broken Promises
Rain still fell like knives when Aaniya's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she thought she was dead. The cold was bone-deep, wrapping around her like a shroud. Her head throbbed, every heartbeat a sharp hammer behind her temples.
She tried to move—and that's when she felt the ropes. Rough, biting into her wrists. Her ankles tied to the legs of a wooden chair.
The room smelled of damp and rust. Shadows crawled over peeling walls, broken windows letting in streaks of lightning. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped steadily—a slow, mocking metronome.
Then came the voice.
"Welcome back, princess."
Her heart stuttered. She jerked her head toward the sound—and froze.
He was there, lounging on another chair as if this were a casual evening chat. The same scarred face. The same twisted smile. In his hands, the gun spun lazily, catching flashes of lightning.
"Where…" Her throat was raw, words scraping like glass. "Where am I?"
He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Home sweet home. At least for tonight."
Aaniya's pulse roared in her ears. "Why are you doing this?"
"Why?" His smile sharpened. "Because someone needs to teach your hero what it feels like to lose everything."
Her stomach turned. "Suleman… he'll find me—"
He laughed. A low, poisonous sound. "Oh, he'll try. He always does. That's what makes this fun."
His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, closing the distance between them. His boots stopped inches from her knees. He crouched, his face level with hers. Lightning carved his grin into something monstrous.
"Do you know what he did to me?" His voice dropped to a whisper, soft as silk, sharp as a blade. "He left me to die. Buried in mud and blood. All because saving himself was easier than saving me."
Her breath hitched. "You're lying."
"Am I?" His smile was ice. "Ask him. If he lives long enough."
He straightened and stepped back, pacing like a predator in a cage. The gun twirled again, metal glinting in the storm's glow.
"You're just the bait," he said. "The knife I'll use to cut him open. Slowly."
---
Suleman
Pain yanked him out of darkness. It slammed into his skull first, then his ribs. For a moment, Suleman couldn't breathe—couldn't think. Rain soaked his shirt, sticky with blood, cold seeping through every nerve.
He rolled to his side with a groan, coughing hard. The shattered car loomed beside him like a corpse. Memory came back in shards—the crash, the scarred smile, Aaniya's scream.
And then nothing.
A chill worse than the storm gripped him.
"Aaniya…" Her name broke from his lips, hoarse and ragged. He forced himself to his feet, swaying, gripping the wreck for balance. Every muscle screamed in protest, but pain didn't matter. She was gone.
He staggered to the roadside, fumbling for his phone. It was cracked, the screen bleeding light, but it worked. He punched a number with trembling fingers.
It rang once. Twice.
"Who the hell calls me at—" a sleepy voice snapped.
"Rizwan." Suleman's voice was steel now, cold and sharp. "Track a black SUV. Fast."
A pause. "Boss? What happened—"
"Do it!"
He hung up before the questions came, leaning against a rusted pole as lightning split the sky. His chest heaved, blood dripping from his brow, but his mind was already a weapon—spinning through old roads, old sins.
Because he knew who had her.
And he knew why.
---
Flashback.
The smell of gasoline. The sting of betrayal. His brother's eyes—once filled with laughter—now burning with hate.
"You promised, Suleman."
"I didn't have a choice."
"You left me to die!"
The memory ripped through him like a bullet. He pressed his forehead to the cold metal, rain washing over his face.
"I should've killed you then," he whispered into the storm. "But I won't make that mistake again."
---
Aaniya's Fight
Hours bled together like the rain. The ropes burned her skin raw, but she didn't stop twisting, pulling, searching. Her nails scraped against wood until they split, blood slicking her fingertips.
Then—there. A shard of glass on the floor, just within reach.
She stretched, muscles screaming, and caught it. Inch by inch, she began sawing through the ropes, her heart pounding like a drum.
Footsteps.
She froze.
The door creaked open. The man strode in, whistling low, carrying a dripping black duffel. His eyes swept the room, landing on her.
"Awake and restless," he said, voice silky with mockery. "Good. I like my prey spirited."
Her fingers clenched around the glass hidden behind her thigh.
He dropped the duffel with a heavy thud, kneeling to unzip it. Cold metal gleamed inside—chains, knives, tools that made bile rise in her throat.
"You know," he said casually, "I thought about ending it quick. But where's the fun in that?"
She slashed.
The glass ripped through his sleeve, grazing his arm. He snarled, grabbing her wrist and wrenching it back so hard she cried out. The shard clattered to the floor.
"Fiery," he growled, pinning her against the chair. His face hovered inches from hers, breath hot against her cheek. "I almost like you."
The ropes dug into her skin as he retied them tighter, crueler. Her pulse hammered so hard it hurt.
"You'll stay right here," he hissed, "until it's time for the show."
---
The Escape
Later. The rain eased to a whisper, the storm's rage settling into a cold, eerie silence.
The man stepped out to take a call. She heard fragments through the wall.
"Not yet… He'll come… I want him to watch."
The moment the door clicked, she lunged for the shard again. Her wrists were raw, bloodied, but she didn't stop. Rope fibers snapped one by one.
When the last knot gave way, she ran.
Her bare feet slapped against wet concrete, lungs on fire. She burst through a side door into the night—into freedom.
For now.
---
The Collision
The bus terminal was a blur of neon lights and shadows. People moved like ghosts, their voices a distant hum. Aaniya stumbled inside, soaked, trembling, every muscle screaming. She clutched her torn sleeve to hide the blood.
Just get out. Just find a bus. Just—
"Aaniya?"
The name froze her mid-step.
She turned.
And the world tilted.
Aaliyaan stood there, rain dripping from his hair, disbelief carved into his face. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Her breath hitched. Memories crashed like waves—the love, the betrayal, the papers she signed with shaking hands.
"Aaliyaan…" Her voice broke on his name.
He took a step toward her. "What… what happened to you?" His eyes darted to the blood on her arm, the terror in her face.
Before she could speak, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She fumbled it out with trembling hands.
Suleman.
She stared at the name glowing on the cracked screen. Aaliyaan saw it too. His jaw tightened.
She answered. "Hello—"
His voice came through like gravel and fire. "Don't move. He's coming for both of us."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Aaliyaan's gaze burned into hers, questions swirling like storms.
Before she could breathe, before she could speak—
A shadow moved outside the terminal glass.
Watching.
Waiting.
To be continued…