---Nadir's POV---

There was no rush to head to Mercer's location. In fact, I prefered we had waited even longer than usual.

I had no doubt that Mercer's spy network was extremely busy, kept busy because of my actions. The second I so much as scratched my butt cheek, Mercer would know about it.

Which would only make his paranoia grow worse. Why would I wait to finish what I started?

After all, with each kill I made, each abuser I erased from the face of the earth... I had killed and moved on.

Knowing Mercer, he would be busy trying to analyze my kills. Trying to figure out a way to prevent his own demise. I doubted there was a true pattern to my killing.

Unless you counted ownership. Which already alerted Mercer to the fact that he was kept last. That only he remained on my shortened list.

However, he didn't know how I would kill him. What I have intended for him. Because I hadn't been using all of the Sheik's weaknesses against them.

There was no pattern to discern, no plot to unravel. And I knew that would infuriate Mercer. That man was probably pacing in his room, enraged as each carefully thought out plan of his turned out full of plot holes.

He couldn't make head or tails from my actions. Probably assumed I was thinking on my feet, acting on a whim.

But he couldn't be more mistaken.

I knew how Mercer operated. Knew the signs of his little spies, who thought they were so smart with leaving small carving around the city to communicate with one another.

An ugly carved wooden statue, a stick-drawing in the sand, made to look like gibberish from a child...

Mercer's ego and lack of empathy, his sense of grandeur, made him think he was elevated above the others. That anyone who didn't share his status, lacked intelligence.

It was why he never really questioned his slaves, why he had always spoken in a cypher with his allies while I was still in the room.

But he was foolish enough to think that a slave, someone beneath him, couldn't crack the code.

It took me a while. But after years of bringing him encrypted letter, years of him daring me to read it and mocking me for my failed attempts, I did it.

His cypher, shared with his personal spies, was now an open book to me.

I had known from the start, ever since my first kill, that I was being spied upon. And I had fed the man tidbits of information, of things I wanted Mercer to know.

Because I knew that behind Mercer's intelligence and thirst for knowledge, laid a deep-rooted fear. The man was paranoid and his actions throughout the years that I had been his slave, had proven it.

Simple gestures, as feeding his slaves a bite or a sip from his own meal before he would eat. Never directly accepting something that was handed to him, instead ordering his slaves with a snap of the finger to accept the gift.

Mercer knew he had enemies. And he also knew that those enemies would try to claim his life, in whatever stealthy matter they could muster.

And it seemed he was always one step ahead of them. Feeding his slaves a test sample of his meal to check for poisons, forcing his slaves to accept a potentially booby trapped gift.

Endangering their lives for the sake of his own.

Most, if not all of his enemies had slowly given up. Thinking that the man was all seeing, all knowing.

Instead, the fact that he remained alive was mostly thanks to his vast network of spies. Spies that had been tracking his enemies for years.

However, why would you order your spies to track a supposed dead man?

That was Mercer's first mistake. If he truly, genuinely wanted to kill me, he should've slit my throat in that desert or stabbed me through the heart.

But his sadistic tendencies and his egotistical way of thinking had deluded himself. In his mind, he wanted me to suffer. Gave me an injury that would only be lethal on the long run.

Leaving me bound, wounded and bared to the unforgiving elements of the desert would normally be a death sentence. If the heat didn't cook me alive, dehydration would've killed me.

And if not that, then the slow festering wound would've made every lasting moment a torment I would've wished to escape.

Yet in all his wisdom, he didn't include the Bedouin tribes that frequented the desert. The kind travelers that saved my life, brought me to their doctors and healed me.

And in their care, I had a lot of time to think about my past. My future.

I had openly spoken about what happened. About Mercer and his treatment of his slaves.

Imagine my shock when one of the Bedouin knew of Mercer. Had personally known him since he was a child.

Ishtar introduced herself with a kind smile and a vivid spark in her brilliant green eyes. A stunning comparison to my own, if not a slight shade lighter.

Her dark curled hair was tucked in her usaba, but they curls still fought to be bared for the world to see. Golden hoops decorating her ears and a vibrant smile lit up the room as she had been the one to heal me.

She was a kind soul, but firm and baring her claws when needed. While she kept herself to the rules and wore her headdress wherever she went.

Yet, it didn't seem as restrictive as some Muslim communities I had come across. For most, a Muslima baring her hair was rather sinful after all.

But it seemed, depending on the Bedouin tribes, that some didn't mind a small amount of visible hair. With her ears bared to showcase the brilliant jewelry of her family, and her facial headdress decorated with small golden disks and jewelry, she had done her name justice.

It was one of the reasons why Mercer was so interested in her. Intending to woo her and make her his first wife. But due to her being in the Bedouin tribe, always on the move, he had a hard time staying in contact with her.

Most of the time, they had conversed through letters. In those letters, Mercer had been the perfect gentleman, coming across as kind, gentle if not slightly lovestruck.

For the first time in his life, Mercer had shown his hand and declared his weakness to the world.

Ishtar herself.

And she had been utterly disgusted with what I told her. To the point that at first, she didn't want to believe me. Thought I was making up this wild story full of unimaginable horrors.

That was after all, part of Mercer's plan. To lash out against his slaves in such unspeakable, unthinkable ways, that if one did manage to escape in an attempt to find help...

They would be ridiculed. Bashed on the head with the fact that to outsiders, Mercer was kind, gentle, loving. Not at all the cruel man his slaves knew him to be.

But, as if guided by the hands of Fate, I had managed to convince the woman in a simple way.

I could recite to her, word for word, what Mercer had written to her in all of her letters. Could inform her of each pressed and dried flower that he had tucked away in each individual letter.

Always commenting that the beauty of the flower paled in comparison to Ishtar's natural beauty.

She had sat down beside me, green eyes enveloped by pitch-black lashes pinning me to my bed...and ordered me to tell her everything, from the start.

And I did. Sparing no detail, my evidence being my own scarred body. And as her gentle hands deftly found every single injury, every mark that had been left on my body, her anger grew.

"Mercer is vile." She had hissed, hiding behind her shawl yet her eyes spat out the venom she felt. "Father was right to postpone the very idea of courting."

Courting?

The very idea of someone as kind and gentle as Ishtar, someone so pure in the hands of Mercer had made me nearly lose what little I had eaten.

But, she was also incredibly smart and cunning. Under the guise of being interested in Mercer and his whereabouts, she had started to investigate him.

Her messenger brought her letters to Mercer along with subtle hints of interest. A dash of perfume on the letter, questions about Mercer's livelihood, how he could potentially sustain his bride, if that ever came to be.

And through those innocently posed questions, she learned a lot. Her messenger informed her of the questions he asked around town as well.

Normally this may have triggered Mercer's paranoia but Ishtar was clever. After some persuasion, her father had written a personal letter to Mercer.

Detailing how over the years, his daughter had become enamored with Mercer. Normally, Bedouin kept to their own tribes and generally disliked the idea of an outsider marrying their own.

But, it was the father's decision to speak for his children. And in the letter, they lied to Mercer's face, inquiring if he was still interested and willing to follow the Bedouin customs for engagement and marriage.

Mercer accepted. Greedily.

There was no hesitation, no negotiation in reply to the father's letter. Instead, Mercer had sent his reply by giving the messenger several camels and dromedaries. A gift for Ishtar's father, a bridal price, so to speak.

To show just how interested he was.

As I relayed all this to Carson and Mord'U, they both seemed stunned. Mord'U crossed his arms with a doubtful frown as he stated, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't the Bedouin tribes usually keep to themselves? Why would they be interested in getting vengeance on Mercer, just for your sake? Someone who's an outsider by birth and blood?"

Steepling my fingers, I swallowed thickly. "Remember that I told her everything that Mercer has done?" Mord'U and Carson nodded so I continued, "If you recall, I mentioned one of Mercer's slaves that he used as an example?"

Both of them still frowned so I retold, "His oldest slave, who's tongue he removed and sold her siblings to Aakif?" Instantly both showed a grimace of disgust, Carson even shivering as they both uttered their recognition.

"Well, when I told Ishtar about the woman, she was very interested to know her name. Because, a distantly related tribe had three of their children disappear in the middle of the night. The oldest daughter first and then several months later, her two siblings.

Mord'U widened his eyes in shock, mouth agape as he realized the repercussion of Mercer's actions. "The Bedouin highly value their women. Hell, touching one of their women as an outsider is seen as a crime!"

I nodded. "Mercer not only touched one of the Bedouin, he soiled her innocence, mutilated her and to beat her down emotionally, kidnapped two other Bedouin children."

Carson sucked his teeth, shaking his head. "That must've made things personal." He mumbled, scratching at the back of his head. "Especially if they heard of Aakif's true nature."

"More if you know that the two youngest have been found. Mutilated corpses bared for the elements, scattered by vultures. There was barely anything left of them but eye witnesses, servants from Aakif, all testified that they've seen Javier drag the kids out."

A bitter, enraged silence filled the room. Because we all knew that the kids had most likely outgrown Aakif's particular taste. And since there were no available or interested buyers, they were disposed of, like so many others before them.

"The tribes want vengeance." I revealed slowly, making sure that there was none of Mercer's men in the vicinity. "If it wasn't for my warnings of Mercer's power, they would've stormed the city and slayed him on the marble steps of his palace."

At that, a glow started in Carson's eyes, smirk growing in understanding. "A group of Bedouin, enraged, would never be allowed in the city, much less Mercer's private domain. But a single woman, his betrothed, would."

My own lips twisted in an equal smirk as I nodded. "Ishtar has been with Mercer from the moment I set off. Visiting him on a regular basis and kept sending him letters, all to feign the yearlong customary betrothal stage."

"Feign..." Carson blinked before smirking. "Oh, she's smart. I'm guessing you both plotted this out?"

Mord'U looked between us as I nodded before his own eyes lit up with understanding. "When's the betrothal, and your assassination plot, finalized?"

Humming, I tapped my knuckles on the table before standing up. "Let's just say that, if we leave the city today, I'll be finally, truly free before the moon rises in two days."

Carson shook his head with a sigh, as if he was wondering whatever to do with me. "You're not gonna tell us your plans, are you?"

Pressing a finger to my lips, I winked before grinning as both men chuckled and shrugged before following me towards the stables.

Oh Mercer, I cannot wait to finally see you again.