Chapter 15
SAMRAT
T he viewing gallery erupted in pandemonium.
“Stay down,” I growled in Meher’s ear, and leapt off her, running towards the jungle.
“Stop, it’s not safe in there,” she yelled, but I ignored her and kept going.
I had the sniper in sight, and I wasn’t going to give up that advantage. I heard the roar of jeeps behind me, and Meher’s father slowed down next to me and yelled at me to hop in.
I climbed into his jeep without taking my eyes off the sniper.
He threw his gun down and tried to escape into the bushes, but I did not lose track of him.
At one point, the bushes were too thick for the jeeps to pass, and I jumped out of the vehicle and chased him on foot, running him down just as he was about to crawl out under a wire fence.
I knocked him out with an uppercut to the jaw and dragged his ass back to the jeep.
“Tie his hands to the rail with a rope,” I instructed one of the staff members who came to help me. “He’s not getting away so easily.”
“Don’t worry, Hukum. He dared to shoot at our Baisa. There is no way we’re letting him go,” he replied squarely.
Meher’s father looked like he had aged ten years in these ten minutes. His hands shook as he reversed the jeep, and we made our way to the sanctuary.
“Is this the first time you guys have been attacked?” I asked.
“Well, we’ve had a few threats recently, because we rescue injured animals before the poachers can get to them.
But this is the first time they actually attacked us.
Meher could have died today,” he said, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of the jungle, and resting his head on the steering wheel.
“Not while I’m alive,” I swore softly.
“Of course, she will die. You will all die one by one,” mumbled the sniper, coming around slowly.
I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back.
“What the fuck do you mean? Bol,” I roared, and he didn’t so much as flinch.
This was no ordinary poacher. This was a trained assassin. One who did not give any fucks about whom he killed. He laughed in my face, and I let go of his hair.
It was better to let the police have him because if I made him talk my way, they’d call it a crime, now that I was a civilian.
“You’re bleeding,” exclaimed Meher’s father, as he restarted the jeep.
“Eh, it’s just a scratch. The bullet grazed my arm, that’s all. You can patch me up at the sanctuary.”
He let out a loud snort.
“If you think Meher is going to allow anyone else to patch you up, you’ve got another think coming, boy,” he said drolly.
Damn it! I had just chased down the man who tried to shoot his daughter. In an open jungle, no less. And all I got was ‘boy’.
“And just because you saved her life, don’t think you’re in the clear already,” he went on.
“I remember how you broke my daughter’s heart, and I’m going to watch you like a hawk, boy.
You’re not getting anywhere near my daughter this time.
Let her patch you up to ease her guilt, and then you take your adorable little niece and get out of my home. ”
“With all due respect, sir,” I replied coldly. “It was your daughter who broke my heart. And no matter what, I’m not leaving until the police catch the mastermind behind this shooting.”
“Hmph,” said the old man, and drove over a pile of rocks in the middle of the lane. As my arm banged into the side of the jeep, I winced in pain, and I could have sworn the old goat did it on purpose. Because he did it again, and then a third time.
Meher was pacing in the compound of the sanctuary when we drove up.
The police team was already waiting, and they bundled the sniper into their jeep and drove off after they promised to keep us updated.
The bleeding in my arm had stopped after I had ripped off the cleanest part of my shirt to press it against the wound, but Meher turned white at the sight of my blood-soaked clothes.
“It’s just a graze,” I said loudly because she looked as if she was about to faint.
“Don’t yell at me, you idiot,” she yelled. “How dare you risk your life for one poacher?”
“I didn’t risk anything. I knew what I was doing. And he tried to kill you, Meher. What the hell was I supposed to let him do?”
“Stop arguing and get out of those dirty clothes now,” she ordered, as she examined the wound. “This doesn’t look so bad. I’ll bring the medicine box up to your room and patch you up. Do you need one of the guys to carry you up to your room in case you’re woozy from the blood loss, He-Man?”
I really didn’t deserve this, I thought viciously, as I stomped up the stairs. This was the thanks I got for saving her life.
Shivina met me on the stairs and gasped at the sight of the blood.
“It’s just a graze,” I said curtly. “And I’m completely fine, despite what that madwoman downstairs tells everyone.”
She hid a smile and went on her way. I threw my dirty clothes in the laundry basket and threw on a clean t-shirt and a pair of shorts before I went next door to check on Navya.
She’d had her dinner and was fast asleep, completely oblivious to the drama that had unfolded outside.
I returned to my room and waited for the inevitable.
There was a sharp rap on the door, and Meher walked into the room with a big box marked first-aid.
“Is this a sanctuary or a war zone?” I quipped, and she ignored me as she pulled out her gear.
I swear the woman had the bedside manner of a hungry grizzly bear. I tried not to wince as she poured peroxide over my wound before she cleaned it thoroughly.
“It’s okay to cry,” she said snidely when she saw my face.
“My therapist tells me that every day,” I retorted, with a toothy smile. “Just get on with it, Dr Doom.”
She slapped some ointment and a clean bandage over the wound and packed everything away in her big box of marvels.
After she was done, she turned to leave, but I gripped her by the waist and set her on the wide bathroom counter.
“What are you doing?” she yelped.
“Checking that you’re okay,” I said softly. “You were just shot at, Meher. It’s okay to be frightened.”
“I’m not frightened,” she said, sounding extremely offended. “I am furious. That motherfucker hurt you!”
I burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny, Samrat. A bullet wound is not a joke,” she snarled.
In response, I pulled off my t-shirt and showed her my torso, which was puckered with scars.
Meher gasped in horror and reached out a trembling hand. She paused before she touched me and looked embarrassed.
“May I?” she whispered.
I nodded and watched her soft hand land on my chest.
“Are all these…?”
“Bullet wounds,” I replied.
“How many times have you been shot?”
“In all, around thrice. Four, including today. Most were grazes, but this once, I took three bullets to the torso,” I said, pointing to the scars left by the entry wounds. “And still made it out just fine. They didn’t hit anything important.”
Meher traced the scars gently with her fingers, and my heart began to race at the light touch.
I grabbed her hand and held it in place.
“Are you feeling sorry for me?” I growled.
She snorted derisively.
“Fat chance of that, considering that in the past eight years, I would happily have put a bullet through you myself,” she snapped.
“This is the thanks I get for saving your life,” I murmured, with an eye roll.
The little demon poked a finger into one of my scars in response.
“How did you even know there was a sniper?” she demanded, spreading her legs wide and pulling me to stand between them.
“I saw a movement in the bushes because I’m trained to do exactly that, Meher,” I murmured, as I put my hands on the counter and leaned forward.
“I saw you combat roll down the side of the wall, and I thought you’d lost your fucking mind,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around my hips.
“I have lost my fucking mind,” I said, with a laugh. “Ever since you rammed your car into my poor swan.”
She wrapped her hands around my neck.
“Good, you deserve it, you jackass.”
“Kiss me, and put me out of my misery, you witch,” I growled, unable to take it one minute longer.
In response, Meher pulled me closer and kissed me hard.