So, finally this week there's an extra update. I read three romance novels to get over my writer's block😂. Anyway, so. . . there's an extra update.

Why the update? Cauz today's (4th November) my birthday(Oh, I feel bad proclaiming like that)Anyway, so as a treat I can give out an extra chapter.

And where's my gift? COB is stuck in 3.65K reads, share it with your friends so that they can enjoy it too!😁(*Such a shameless person!*)

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He wakes up not soon after he is injected with Flumazenil, which reverses the effect of Diazepam. We couldn't wait for him to wake up from his deep slumber for our questions. Outside, a hit bollywood song plays, accompanied by the cacophony of guests and occasional peals of laughter. There hasn't been once I heard the baby crying, she must be an obedient one.

Basheer splashes water on his face before slapping him on his face, stirring him awake,

"Wh-what, who are you?" The man sputters out the words, going into a coughing fit. He tries to undo the ropes tying his legs together, using his tied up hands but his attempt goes in vain given the obstruction provided by his pot belly.

"Tera baap, madarc**d !" Basheer curses before pulling him by the collar of his shirt before his fist meets his jaw accompanied by a sickly crunch, the impact making him stagger backwards ultimately falling down. Basheer squats down to his level before whispering, sounding deadly like a snake, "Who sent you here?"

The menace in his voice breaks out goosebumps on my skin. It's not only me that feels it for the fearful eyes of the man flashes to me but he surprises me by directing a cynical smile my way, "Someone who wants her." He replies. "Untie me." He has audacity to say that.

"Who wants her?" Basheer asks sternly, his eyes narrowed, cold and hard reminding me of the old Basheer, before his fists meet his jaws again and this time a narrow trinket of dark red stream flows down one side of his chin.

However before he can reply or come up with another snarky remark, a series of knocks rattle the door.

Panic stricken, I look at the door before looking at Basheer. Who could it be? What do we do now?

"Untie him," Basheer says before taking out the gun from the man's holster. He presses the gun to the lower abdomen of the man before whispering, "Speak a word and see what I will do."

I quickly squat before him, undoing the ropes on his hand and feet. Giving him a nodd, I hurry to the door and open it to find a dishevelled Dr. Nizamuddin standing there. My nose scrunches up immediately smelling the burnt sulphur, acrid, chemical infused air. The bitter, smoky smell of air makes my throat burn, watering my eyes immediately.The air makes me go into a coughing fit, thats when I notice smell seems to be coming from upstairs.

"Quick, this place has caught fire. We need to get out. You are the last ones to get out." He coughs out, covering his mouth with his hand.

Fire? Shit?From my position at the door, I catch sight of the reddish-orange flames licking the stairs and the silvery-grey smoke swirling up in streams gradually spreading downstairs.

I hurry inside, "Basheer, there's a fire. Come on we need to get out before it reaches downstairs."

His eyes widen fractionally before he pushes the man forwards, the gun still pressing against the man's lower half. The air around us grows thick, the chemicals irritate our eyes causing our vision to blur.

"This way, Nehali," Dr. Nizamuddin coughs out. We follow his voice out of the room finally stepping outside in a few more steps. The smoke hides the revolver pressing against the man's lower back and he has no way but to come along. As soon as we step out I stand on the right side of Bsheer so that the pistol isn't visible. Luckily, we weren't far away from the exit. Minutes after we come out, I feel the heat radiating off it in waves threatening to burn my skin before a thunder clap sounds, when Dr. Nizamuddin pulls me down along with him, squatting on the ground to avoid any impact of the explosion. My hands move up involuntarily to my ears to cover them but I don't miss his words, "Must be the kitchen." We see a horde of men standing father away, beyond a large banyan tree looking at the house.

Dr. Nizamuddin helps me stand back up before nodding at me to follow him. But before I can follow him, Basheer comes up from behind. "Nehali, follow me." Basheer says turning to the alley opening on that road, instead of the direction where other guests are standing. My eyes shift to dr. Nizamuddin's back before I decide that some other time, I will thank him.The alley is rather empty, a single street lamp lighting the earthen road. The moist soil sinks beneath our weight as we travel farther away from the place that's consumed in flames.

The smell of burnt sulphur is still strong here, and in the distance a bright source of light can be seen. Any other day I would have thought it to be a fallen meteor.

Basheer halts near another street lamp, before using the butt of the pistol to strike on his head. "Speak!" He kicks on the man's sheens so that he falls on his knees, kneeling on the ground.
The man bellows before he falls cursing out when he receives another hit.

"Tell me or I will end your pathetic life here itself!"

"You aren't really the drug lord's son, are you?" The man whispers, his eyes widening a fraction in curiosity. Just like the curiosity killed the cat, Basheer strikes another heavy blow on his jaw, this time breaking a teeth or two as blood gushes down his mouth. The sight makes me cringe involuntarily. I am a doctor, I should be used to blood. I am but not used to seeing a man beaten blue and black.

"Why did you kidnap me?" I ask squatting down in front of him, gripping his collar.

"You really think the fire was an accident, no?" The man laughs hysterically, ignoring my question but Basheer wrenches his hand behind twisting it, so that an agonized look crosses his face.

"Who. Is. It?"

The man is about to open his mouth to reply when his eyes widen in alarm looking beyond me somewhere in the distance before his breath gushes out of him and he falls limp. I stare at the red hole on his forehead dripping with dark congealing blood before a narrow stream runs down his nose, mixing below with the blood from his lower lip. I stare at him shocked, my fingers freeze on his collar. My breath comes out in short pants as I concentrate on the bullet hole on his forehead. What just happened? Was he shot? How?

My shaking fingers somehow manages to find his pulse only to find it absent. I crawl away from the body, immediately standing up only to meet Basheer's eyes looking in the other direction.

Shortly after something strikes the light above, shattering the glass and emerging us in darkness. Immediately a hand grips mine and I squeak out to confirm if it's him. A gentle squeeze, and that's his answer, 'yes.'

He pulls me along, hiding us behind a pillar in one of the several abandoned houses lining the street. "What just happened?" I whisper out the question that has been plaguing me since long.

"Somebody didn't want him to answer that and hence silenced him."

"What do we do now?" I whisper out the question. Somebody killed him? Will he kill us too?

"The last bullet was a warning. Whoever it is didn't seem to want to kill either of us. So, for now we need to leave."

I nod although given the darkness surrounding us, I wonder if he sees it. But anyway he pulls me along, clutching my right hand in a tight grip. I wonder how he can see through it, my eyes can barely adjust to the darkness, no way could I find my way back in this darkness alone.

Finally we take up on a path that's relatively less dark, given the scattered rays of the overhead halogen light a few metres away. In the distance the sound of a fire engine can be heard. I guess the fire engine has arrived and is now busy dousing the fire. A sudden thought makes me stop in my tracks, surprising Basheer. Having sensed the dread wash over me he looks at me in alarm.

"The fire-the fire was it just to bring us out so that he could be killed?" I ask him, my heart hammering in my chest.

"I have my suspicions about that." He says tugging me on. Everything around me blurs, only my feet carrying me forward as if on auto pilot, suddenly the severity of the situation falls upon me. A man was just murdered in front of my eyes. It could have been me, lying there lifeless. What could he have known that he was killed in cold blood? Something related to me.

And that makes me shiver involuntarily.Could he be following me right now? What if-what if he deems Basheer unnecessary and shoots him too. I quicken my steps at that, hurrying to the car. "How long until we reach the car?"

"Over there." He points and two headlights flashing in the middle of a field, beside the main road. As we step on the soil, fresh grass crunches beneath our feet, my heart somersaults, I quicken my steps, looking around to find the semblance of a man with a rifle.There's only a single high building standing on the other side. What if he is taking his aim right now?

What if-

"Get in the car Nehali." Basheer pulls open the door for me, I scoot in pulling him in and shutting the door before heaving a sigh.

"Are the glasses bulletproof?" I ask.

At that his eyebrows raise," It's a maruti, Nehali. So no."

"Lets get on the road please," I plead at the same time, the engines revs to life. For a moment I look at the driver wondering if he's involved. What if he is here to kill us both? Or Basheer?

Am I being paranoid? But I can't just shake off the feeling of dread. For pete's sake, I just saw a man murdered in the darkness of night.

"Ba-basheer, is he going to kill us too?" Trepidation and apprehension grips my heart squeezing it in a death, cold grip.

He must have seen the ghastly expression on my face for he takes my hand in his, using his own to warm it up, "Had he wanted to kill us, he could have without blinking an eye. He didn't want to, only that man and I find that fishy."

Just him?

I nodd, his answer somewhat soothing my worry but I can't seem to get the man out of my head. Everytime I close my eyes, the whites of his eyes seem to stare back at me, his lips curving in the same sinister smile.

In my line of profession, I have seen deaths, not every patient makes it out of the hospital back home but some make their way to morgues or anatomy dissection tables. And the latter part is never pleasant for a doctor. But, this was different. When I said I would avenge my father, I never realised how bloody it was gonna get.How must it have been for him to kill Farhema with his own hands, without realising it was her. I am not sure if she was his lover but I have my suspicions.

How does he keep it all bottled up and still keep his sanity, still manage to make me swoon every time he smiles. In spite of all that he has suffered, he wants to protect me, how fucked up is that? My eyes come to involuntarily rest upon him, drinking him in, I make another promise. I promise I will protect you from every nightmare that disturbs your sleep, from every darn being that threatens your sanity.

Feeling my stare at him, he stares back,"What?"

"Nothing, this-all these are just new." I stammer out.

"I am here, I will protect you." He says pulling me to him, and that's when pain shoots up my arm, stinging and burning bringing tears to my eyes. Seeing me cringe, he pulls back examining my arm and a shocked gasp escapes him. My eyes land on my arm, finding the reason for his gasp. There's a tear in the fabric of my dark green salwar, blood staining the already dark green colour making it darker. And that moment, the pain sets in, uninvited tears blurring my vision.

He holds my sleeves before tearing the fabric with a ripping sound. Through the tears I see, a dark red elliptical furrow sits on my arm, rough around the edges exposing the layers of the skin. The bullet must have grazed by me.

"A bullet graze wound and it fairly deep. You'll need stitches, but it will hurt." He says examining my arm.

"Who's doctor here?" I bit out through clenched teeth.

"These are common battlefield injuries. I know how to treat them. And given your expression I don't think you will be able to stitch it up."

Damn right, I can't, that bloody hurts.

"Just a moment, we are almost home." Basheer whispers soothingly, making me smile through tears at his attempt to soothe me. But the pain is too much, warm and deep spreading through my entire forearm as if it's on fire.

As soon as the car halts, Basheer goes out first but before I can step out, he pulls me up bridal style, my injured arm hanging rests on my midriff before kicking open the wooden rusty door.

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Author's Note:

If you are looking for the translation(You know what I mean)no way I'm telling you the meaning of that curse. Go search on Google, I shall not be held responsible for adding this word to your dictionary.

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