The stench of blood overpowered her senses; the rusty metallic smell sweeping her five years into the past where she was being forced under the rock.

"I don't want to hide, Baba!" The fifteen-year-old Nazli had said, her wide green eyes overlooking her father's shoulder to the black limousine that was turning the corner. "What's that, Baba? Is that a car?"

Her father's blue eyes had widened and his normally rosy cheeks paled with a horror Nazli had seldom seen before. "Get under the rock, Nazli! Promise me . . . you won't make a sound! No matter what happens, you will not make a sound!"

"But why?" She cried, stomping her feet angrily as her mother shoved her in the shade of the huge stone. When her mother dug her nails in Nazli's shoulder, she winced. "Mama, you're hurting me! Why are you being like this?"

But her mother's once soft touch was cold and distant. Her identical green eyes, however were swimming with so much affection that Nazli began to feel tears choking her throat. "Remember, Nazli. Not a sound. You promised."

Then she was gone - her parents merely a few steps away facing a group of dozen men. They held hands and stood in front of her in such a way that she remained protected from those who would slaughter her life givers.

Even after the massacre had been done and the men had been long gone, she could not move from under the rock. The stench of blood . . . was overpowering. But she had kept her promise . . . she had not made a sound.

"No!"

Asadullah paused in pressing his finger on the trigger; the sweat drenched face of Shah Zaman merely seconds away from becoming a bloody mess. But he had been saved by a strangled sound . . . a sound filled with enormous anguish, but a strange hollowness too that erupted goosebumps on his neck.

The widening of his trusted friend Imad's eyes and the dropping of Shah Zaman's jaw was enough to tell him what had happened. The impossible . . . had happened.

"Don't . . . h-h-h-urt m-my unc-le!" Before he had even swung around to confirm what he was hearing, there was a distinct click. The sound was so familiar to his ears that his heart had stopped jumping - assassination attempts on his life had engrained in him a welcome lack of fear.

But perhaps this was the first time in many years that a twinge of misery tripped his heart. He knew why people would turn to the gun for aid - either when there was extreme hatred or the last resort for survival. In her erupting emerald eyes, he detected the former - pure, black . . . hatred.

"Put down the gun." The authority and the calm took over him again. He was the leader of the Black Panther Mafias and this woman's husband. Not to mention, his right shoulder had received an extra bone in it courtesy of her uncle in his quest to save her life. "I saved your life didn't I, Nazli? Your despicable uncle had a full plan to send you six feet under."

Her eyes widened with betrayal as she looked over his shoulder - no doubt towards her beloved uncle. But just as quickly and frighteningly, they softed into understanding. He stepped closer to her with caution, his heartbeat picking up with a strange trepidation. She couldn't be this foolish . . .no, she wouldn't do something this reckless.

But once again, he was proven wrong. In the last few days, so much uncertainty had become normalized in his life. Nazli was that uncertainty - she did not fit into his life like others despite all his attempts, but perhaps . . . he was desperate to fit in her life like no other.

Before the pistol even reached her temple, Fahad had thrown Nazli's snivelling cousin aside and grabbed her from behind. A possessive rage overtook Asadullah's senses when she struggled in his cousin's arms, but the sense of relief was greater. Just this once, he would overlook an instance of another man touching what was his.

"Ouch!" Fahad moaned as she clawed at his hands. Behind him, Shahrazad pulled on his shirt desperate to remove him from her cousin. The scene was comical when the man sandwiched between two women looked up with a wild desperation. "Help me for fuck's sake! These crazy wildcats are going to rip me to shreds!"

The leader of the Black Panther Mafias stifled a snicker. This was not the time for him to laugh, but rather to show . . . and exert his power upon this rebellious girl. He grabbed her flying arms tightly and gladly pulled her from his cousin. Then with a free hand, he pulled at his loose tie and binded her hands - making sure to capture every expression on her face.

She stared at him appalled. "Wh-wh-at?!"

He still had to pause for a moment to realise the magnitude of the situation. She was standing here before him - not a mirage from his dreams or imagination . . . speaking because of him. Delight was an understatement to what he was feeling - he was in a state of ecstacy and her serene, soft voice only lulled him deeper into it.

He cleared his throat, ignoring the way his skin ignited at having her so close. "Suicide is haram*, Nazli. I doubt your precious Baba Zaman ever taught you that considering he nearly killed you himself."

"So is forcing someone to marry against their will, you slimy bastard!" Shahrazad screamed, nearly kicking Fahad in his groin. "Let go of my cousin!"

"Shhh, kitty!" Fahad cooed in her ear. "You aren't the main character of this story - don't be the vamp at least!"

"Unhand me you bastard and I'll show you what vamp means!" He giggled at her words, moving his head away just before she slammed hers back in hopes of smashing his nose. He was beginning to learn her moves now . . . she was impulsive and bold. And fearless. A dangerous cocktail, but just the way he liked it. With a sigh, he allowed himself to take a whiff of her pale blonde hair. The smell of pleasant flowers and herbs tingled his nostrils and he knew then that he would never see a flower and not think of this wild beast in his arms. If only he had the opportunity to tame it . . .

"Dea-th is . . . be-tt-er t-t-than hell!" Nazli choked out, struggling against the binds. What a betrayal . . . what a colossal betrayal she had done with her parents. She had broken her promise - the last promise she had made with her mother. All because of this vile man. Death truly would be sweeter than what he intended to do with her.

But if she was expecting some clemency from him, he instantly proved her wrong. His hand was in her loose plait and he roughtly pulled on her strands, his black eyes molten with dark fury. Her breath hitched in fear - despite being absolutely frightened of him during the time she was his "guest" at the hotel, he had not ignited such horror within her like he did now. Was she fighting against a monster . . . someone she could never vanquish?

"You know damn well nothing about hell, Nazli." He hissed, his lips so close to her own that she wished she could evaporate. But the molten lava in his eyes barely allowed her to look away let alone move. "Don't you dare fucking do what you did just now. Because believe me, you won't die. But every single person you love definitely will. And you will stand by and watch as I will send each of them to hell!"

Before he could see the tears roll from her eyes, he was throwing her away from him. She drove him insane - one minute he wanted her close and the next he could not stand her presence. Stupid, foolish girl. How was it that a tiny village girl was proving to be a handful for him? How was she able to unravel the leader of the Black Panther Mafias?

A man from his elite force stepped forward at his command. "Get ready to leave. I want the chopper ready in five."

"Right away, sir!" Within a few seconds, the greenery of the valley returned and as if it was instaneous, the chirping of the birds did too. If Nazli closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that her life had not just crashed to a new low. She could pretend to be in her room, listening to Shahrazad ramble on and on about the city. Everything could almost be normal.

"I was going to be kind." Asadullah mused loudly, intruding through her imagination rudely. She opened her eyes, just in time to see his insightful stare turn cold. Strange . . . she had almost seen guilt in his eyes, but that was most likely a figment of her imagination. "I was going to be kind and let you stay a night with your family for the last time. But your Baba Zaman is a double-dealing backstabbing coward and you, Nazli are also quite a hazard for yourself. So you can say your goodbyes now."

He ended his small speech with a blinding smile rendering her heart to a stop. No! This couldn't be! She would not go with him . . . Baba Zaman and Shahrazad had to save her. They absolutely had to!

"No games!" His voice boomed, pointing his handgun at the old man who had half collapsed in Imad's arms. "I am sick of this family drama! Anyone acts up and bullets will be flying!"

At his words, Fahad leaned forward to whisper to the fearsome girl in his grasp. "Don't take his words lightly, kitten. When he is in that mood, he really means it!" He sincerely hoped that this girl was not foolish enough to not realize the scent of danger that was practically rolling off his leader. Asadullah was furious and the way his eyes constantly flickered to the frozen woman who looked nothing short of a Renaissance statue was probably the reason for his ill mood.

"Like hell I care!" Shahrazad's glassy voice shattered the tense silence. Fahad's heart stopped when his cousin's pitch black eyes narrowed in her direction. Oh, he was wrong . . . so dead wrong. This girl was not foolish, but a downright moron. Maybe she had been dropped on her head when she was little.

"How dare you . . . whatever your name is - come into my home and threaten my cousin and my Baba!" She elbowed her way out of his grasp and marched over to her cousin, grabbing her arm with a promised protection. But it was clear Nazli suddenly did not appreciate her interference when she shook her head at her wildly. "You can't be serious about leaving with him, Nazli! This man is a monster - you know what he will do to you!"

"Anything I do will be less monstrous than what your precious Baba intends to do!" Asadullah smirked coldly, pulling open the cylinder of his handgun. With a slow deliberation, he began to add small, deadly bullets into it - keeping his eyes locked on Shahrazad. "First he offers your cousin to me for a night - degrading her value as if she is a common whore . . ." He stopped at the word, hating how immense hurt flashed in his wife's eyes and the terrible aftertaste it left in his mouth. ". . .then, when he realizes that a man of honor stands before him and truly intends to marry his niece, he does what no man worthy of being called a man would do. Shoot his own flesh and blood."

Uncertainty flashed in Shahrazad's eyes and for the first time when she looked at her father, she didn't see the image he had set for the entire village to look upon. Instead, it was a frightened and uncertain man who had lost all his life's honor in a few seconds.

"Baba! How could you!" At her words, Shah Zaman hung his head; the strong grip of Imad's arms acting as as an anchor by keeping him from falling. "You were supposed to have protected Nazli! You always said she was like me - like your own daughter!"

Asadullah holstered his gun with a twinge of pity. "You have a lot of growing up to do, little girl, if you still think your parents are always right. More than often, they are not."

Finally, he looked at the quiet serenity of the afternoon ambience that spread through the valley. Strange . . . he had oddly become attached to his place when he was leaving before. Now, he did not feel that attachment because the object of his interest was coming with him.

"Time's up. Give your blessings, Zaman so that the girl has some good memory to remember you with." But the old man, pale and distraught could not even splutter a sound. Imad dropped him without a care and stepped over him with his long legs - silence forever his friend.

"WAIT!" Shahrazad screamed, stepping between her quivering cousin and her supposed husband. "I - I - I won't let Nazli go alone! We have been together since we were little and I . . . cannot trust you to look after her!"

Asadullah cocked an eyebrow. "I have endless money. A comfortable house built by walls unlike the weakened bricks here. Food is abundant - your cousin will not have to work a second in her life. How else does one promise to look after their wife?"

The younger girl's blue eyes flared with anger. "Really! But how can I be sure that you won't throw her away when you are done with her? Or worse, sell her to another man!"

The leader of the Black Panther Mafias was astounded by the girl's guts. She clearly was not a stupid villager and had a good understanding of the dangers of the city. But Asadullah did not like the accusations she was asssociating him with. Like hell he would ever sell his own wife. He would rather take a bullet in his heart first.

"I married your cousin in front of two hundred of my men and three of you villagers. Tell me, daughter of Shah Zaman, does that look like the signs of a man who would sell a women?"

The blonde girl looked at her father with a soft glance before her gaze hardened again. "Fine! But you will allow me to come with Nazli until I am certain that you are a man of your words!"

A gasp from Shah Zaman's direction was finally heard. "Sha...hrazad?!"

"It's too late, Baba!" She screamed with anguish. "You didn't take a stand for Nazli because you never considered her your own! But I will rather die than send her alone to her grave! Maybe I couldn't save her, but I will be with her till the end!"

Fahad knew from Asadullah's upturn of lips that he was greatly impressed. But he was feeling something other than admiration for this small girl . . . something very strong that was urging him to stay in her company . . . even if she would rip him to pieces at the first chance she got.

"I have to say, Shah Zaman . . ." Asadullah opened his wallet and without counting, pulled out a wad of 5000 rupees. "Your daughter has more balls than you and your little protector there." At his words, Hamza snapped out of his reverie. For the past few moments, he had lost all ability to speak. Seeing his sarbarah (leader) crumble had made his own courage dissipate into thin air.

Then he walked over to Shahrazad. "For my fearsome saali (sister-in-law) . . . who has the courage of ten lions and the anger of fifty wild boars!" Fahad snorted at the offensive, yet accurate analogy.

The girl glared, lifting her face with an upturn of her nose. "I do not want a penny from you! When I get to the city, I'll find a job and feed my cousin with my money! We will be independent, you'll see!"

"In sha Allah!" Asadullah said genuinely, his eyes trailing behind to his wife. For Nazli to become independent would be beneficial to him too. To see his wife stand fearless beside him as they would take on the world . . . that would be an amazing sight to behold. And perhaps . . . when she would be strong, he could allow himself to become weak. Just in her presence.

Fahad snatched the wad of cash from Asadullah's hand. "I'll hold on to it, bhai (brother)! After all, what's hers is mine too." He whispered the last part in his cousin's ear, but Asadullah did not respond in the same way.

"Save it, Fahad. The moon will fall and the sun will burn out before you even have the slightest chance with her!"

Before Shahrazad could demand what he meant by those words, the chopper from behind the foliage of trees appeared. As it began to descend, fearsome wind picked up blowing the vegetation in a swirling mixture of destruction. The younger girl moved towards her despairing father in the last of her goodbyes.

Nazli stared at the small structures of the houses that she had grown up in with great despondency. Her home . . . her beloved home was being forever lost. She would never wake up to see the greenery . . . instead it would be frighteningly tall and lavish buildings. She didn't want it . . . she had never wanted it. If only she had married Hamza the day he had asked her to. Maybe she could have compromised, but at least she would be home.

Arms wrapped around her midriff and began to guide her towards the chopper. She had lost all will to resist - even if she had screamed and fought her way out of this situation, Baba Zaman had shown her how much value she held in his life. Nothing.

"This is your home." His gravely voice whispered in her ear clearly despite the loud whirring of the engine. "Any time you wish to come back here . . . to visit and I will make sure of it." With a pause, he stroked her flying, golden hair fondly. "Think well of your uncle - it is not easy to be put in the situation he was put in. Forgiveness is stronger than hate."

But when she turned to stare at him with her round, beautiful emerald eyes, Asadullah spotted something in the crystal clear of her orbs. Hypocrisy.

For he had been unable to forgive his father and instead had walked on a path of eternal hate and revenge . . .