Elaya walked at a measured pace, eyes moving — left, right, behind her, ahead — checking every face, every shadow, every direction she hadn't come from. She needed to reach Shah house without a single person knowing which way she went.
She left the hospital area behind and stepped onto the main road, scanning for a cab.
Then her ears caught it. "Catch her this time."
A smirk crossed her lips. She picked up her pace — not breaking into a run, not yet, moving like someone simply late for something — while the sound of footsteps behind her grew closer.
Then a hand closed around her wrist and yanked her back. "Running from me?"
A man stood before her — black mask, black cap, black outfit, nothing visible except his eyes.
Elaya smirked and wrenched her wrist free.
He moved fast, a cloth appearing in his hand, reaching toward her face — and her knee drove hard into his stomach before it got anywhere near her. She was already running again before he hit the ground.
Freak. He is definitely not alone.
She facepalmed herself mid-stride and started calculating — shortest route to the nearest police station, which lanes had people, which didn't. She reached for her phone while running, already thinking about wiping everything on it.
She thought her time had arrived.
Then hands came from everywhere.
A car. Three men. Two grabbed her arms and the third landed a sharp slap across her face before she could react.
Elaya's eyes burned. Her jaw tightened.
"Who the hell are you," she said through gritted teeth, her gaze cutting between them.
"You know Emris sir wants you dead," one of them barked. The others laughed. Another pulled a gun from his side and tilted his head with a mocking expression — beg. Maybe we will leave you.
Then the driver cleared his throat.
The laughter died. They looked at him.
"Thomas? Your time will come too, dude." Another round of laughter. No response from Thomas. He sat quietly behind the wheel, mask still on, cap pulled low.
Then he stepped out of the car.
The three men exchanged glances and followed, stepping out onto the road, looking at each other with mild confusion.
Thomas set his cap and mask down.
Three shots. One each. Right in the heart.
"I wanted you dead," he said quietly, looking down at the three bodies, "and you are dead."
Elaya stared.
Thomas turned and pulled his mask off fully.
Czar. Her eyes widened. She registered quickly — he had likely heard her voice too at some point tonight. She filed that away.
Czar sighed and looked at her, his expression cold and completely neutral. He extended his hand to help her out of the car. "I don't need your help," she said, showing him her palm and stepping out herself. He rolled his eyes.
"So you can speak," he said, sliding both hands into his jacket pockets. Elaya sighed and nodded.
"Lowkey I had some idea you were faking it," he continued, his tone completely nonchalant. "But you are too good at hiding — no one could ever tell you had a voice. Anyway, before you ask how I am here — this is my area. Right near my police station. You think I would not have some idea about what goes on here?"
Elaya said nothing. Her eyes moved briefly to his head — scanning, checking.
He is fine now, she whispered under her breath.
"No one is around, so you can keep talking," Czar added. "And your secret is safe."
She nodded. "When did you come back?"
"This morning."His phone rang. He listened for a moment, then shrugged.
"Ismae itna masla nahi." He cut the call.
Elaya turned and slipped away the moment he moved toward his police station.
"I will pay you back," she said quietly without turning around.
"You can't," he called back, a quiet laugh in his voice, and kept walking. She scoffed. Looked back at his retreating figure. Reached down and pulled off her heel, raising it.He turned around.
That teasing smile again."We are a good hundred steps apart," he said. "That heel of yours cannot reach me even at full speed."
He walked away.
Elaya stood there, heel in hand, rage and reluctant amusement fighting across her face as she watched him go.
On the other side of the city, Ava sat on the stool across from Ayaan's hospital bed, arms crossed, one leg over the other, studying him with the patience of someone who had been waiting too long for something that should have been simple.
She sighed.
"All things aside — why don't you just tell Elaya how you feel? Are you waiting for someone else to come and take her?"
Her tone left no room for softness. She wanted an answer. Ayaan looked down at his lap and scratched the back of his neck.
Ava stood up. "How much longer?" She did not wait for a reply. "I will tell her today—"
"I give you the swear of Allah," Ayaan said quickly. "Please don't."
He gulped. His jaw worked silently for a moment.
Ava sat back down slowly. She looked at him — at the way he was staring at the wall beside him, not at her, not at anything in particular.
"Wow," she said quietly. "This is the limit."
She shook her head and said nothing more.