CHAPTER 3 #2
“No,” I hissed, stepping towards him even with my wrists bound. “Had Dad been alive, I would never have been forced to run. I wouldn’t have fled. You made me do this. You sold me like cattle to the Reddys.”
That was it. His hand shot out and wrapped around my throat. He squeezed hard enough to cut off my breath, his eyes burning into mine with fury. But I didn’t cower. I met his gaze head-on.
“Dad is dead, Siya,” he growled, his voice venomous. “And after him, I’m the one in power. What I say goes. You will abide by it. Say it.”
I refused. My silence was my rebellion.
His grip tightened, crushing my windpipe. Stars exploded behind my eyes as my lungs fought for air. My hands strained uselessly against the cuffs, trying to shove him back, to claw at him, but he only squeezed harder. I was almost about to pass out when I heard my name.
“Siya?”
Mom appeared at the foot of the grand staircase, looking horrified. Her eyes darted between my bound hands and Samarjeet’s grip on my throat, and I saw real fear flicker in her eyes. She rushed forward.
“Samarjeet!” she snapped with authority. “What are you doing? Leave her at once!”
For a second, his hold tightened, as if to prove he was still in control, but Mom’s hand landed firmly on his arm, yanking him away.
Air rushed into my lungs all at once. I bent forward, coughing hard, tears streaming from the effort of breathing again.
Her arms came around me instantly, while her hand moved gently over my back with maternal love.
“Siya, my baby… who did this to you?” she whispered, cupping my face, her eyes searching mine.
I said nothing. I didn’t have to. Her gaze shifted to Samarjeet. “What is wrong with you? How many times have I told you not to hurt her?”
“She f*cking ran off!” he exploded. “Had our men not dragged her back, the Reddys would’ve killed her first. Do you even understand that? They would’ve slaughtered her in Mumbai and then come for us.”
Mom shook her head in disgust, fury sparking in her eyes. “Uncuff her. Now.”
The guards exchanged uneasy glances, waiting for Samarjeet’s nod. When he didn’t move, she snapped again, “I said uncuff her!”
Reluctantly, one of the guards stepped forward and freed my wrists. The moment the chains dropped, I turned, not to run, but to fight.
My gaze locked onto the tallest guard, the brute who had killed the loyal men who’d helped me escape Cape Town.
The men who had protected me with their lives in Mumbai.
Before he could react, my fist slammed into his jaw.
He stumbled back, shocked, but I didn’t stop.
I kicked and punched, striking with everything Dad had ever taught me.
“How dare you?” I screamed, my breath ragged with grief and fury. “How dare you kill our own men? They were part of us!”
The guard staggered under the blows, and for a moment, even Samarjeet’s men didn’t know whether to intervene or not.
“Enough,” Samarjeet snapped, hauling me back by the arm. “They died because they chose you over me. And anyone who does that, Siya, will face the consequences. You hear me?”
I pushed him with everything I had. He stumbled, just enough, then lunged for me, ready to fight.
“Stop this at once!” Mom exclaimed, stepping between us with wide eyes, her hands trembling as she tried to pull us apart.
But Samarjeet roughly shoved her aside. When Mom crashed against the edge of the table something inside me broke loose.
I dashed to her side before I could even think.
Her hand was pressed against her temple, her breath uneven as she blinked at me, more frightened than hurt.
I turned, and reached for one of Samarjeet’s guards closest to me. Before he could register it, I pulled out the loaded gun from his holster and pointed the barrel at Samarjeet.
Silence fell over the room. Men froze mid-step.
“You will not touch her,” I said, my voice blazing with anger. “Whatever you have is against me, take it out on me. Not on her. She is our mother.”
His jaw clenched.
“If you ever lay a finger on her again,” I whispered, “this bullet will be in your head, and you’ll be in hell before you even realise what happened.”
For a beat, he hesitated. The man who had carried himself like the next don, who had hurt me and broken our rules, faltered. The murderous look in my eyes did what years of words never could: it shook him. Mom reached for my wrist, trembling.
“Siya, put it down,” she murmured.
Slowly, I lowered the gun and let it hang at my side. Then I took her arm and guided her towards the stairs.
“You’ll pay for this, Siya,” Samarjeet barked from behind us. After all, I’d wounded his pride in front of his men. “For pointing a gun at me. Do you understand? You’ll pay for it.”
I stopped halfway up the stairs, turned around, and met his gaze.
“You’re welcome to try,” I said calmly. “And if it ever comes to that… then the next time I aim a gun at you, I won’t hesitate to use it. So don’t push me.”
His teeth ground together, fury tightening his entire face. Mom grabbed my hand and dragged me the last few steps to our room. Samarjeet’s hatred. My vow. The line between us had already been drawn. This time… in blood.
Present
The ringing of the phone on the bedside table snaps me out of the flashback. My lips curve into a smile as I see the caller ID.
“Mom,” I answer quickly, leaning back against the pillows.
“Siya… are you okay?” She sounds tense as usual. Every time I step out of the house, she worries like this.
I blink, glancing at the clock, realising it’s still night in Cape Town. “Mom, why aren’t you sleeping?” I ask softly.
“I saw a bad dream,” she replies, “You were in some kind of trouble. That’s why I woke up and called you.”
I sigh. “I’m fine, Mom. I promise. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“No, Siya. I don’t think so. You shouldn’t have planned to go to India. Not like this. If Samarjeet finds out why you—”