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The chapter includes violence. No, not to the female lead.

Rehman POV

"No, by the way, what is better? Tying you to bed or to the ceiling?" I asked in a low and casual voice, and her eyes widened with shock.

"Jaan-e-Jahan," she called out with a cry, and I knit my brows, teasing her.

"What? Do you not like it? Or, how about I tie your hands with the bed's headrest, your legs wide open with the bed's pillars, and blindfold you, too?" I said, aiming my fingers towards the bed and animating it.

She followed my gaze, and the way her face flushed with shock and disbelief, I could not help but try to conceal my smile.

"Aap hamare saath humbistar hone ke baare me soch rahe hai ya hume is jindagi se ruksat karne ki taiyaari kar rahe hai?"

"You are thinking of getting entangled with me or trying to unalive me?" She asked, shifting a little away from me.

And I looked into her eyes questioningly.

"You did not like the idea? How about we do that on the floor first? You know, rolling down there. Then you stand on your fours with your legs wide open, and then I tie it to the ceiling and do it. So much fun," I said, and she started breathing heavily, staring at me.

"Isme mohobbat to hume nazar hi nahi aa rahi. Aap humse nafrat karne ka to nahi soch rahe na?"

"I cannot see any love in this. Are you thinking about hating me?" She asked, and I shook my head.

"No, this is love. This is lovemaking," I said, and she immediately stood up from the couch. I quickly pulled her back into her place.

"This is not lovemaking, Jaan-e-Jahan. This is torture. I have seen this and...this is bad," she said, and the moment a lone tear fell down her eyes, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer to me.

"This is bad?" I asked in a low voice.

"Yes," she assured with the great depth in her voice.

"You know, women are delicate, and they should be treated like rose petals. It is good when you touch those petals with care, feel them, and show them how much you love them, but the moment you try to possess them and curl your fists around them tightly, they break. Same goes with us," she said, and I smiled, nodding.

"Really?" I asked, and she looked into my eyes.

"Jaan-e-Jahan, how will you feel if I tie you to the bed?" She asked. I did not know, but the moment I imagined what she just said, my chest tightened a bit.

I was not a rose petal.

It would be interesting.

"Very bad," I said, giving justice to her sensible justifications that she needed for herself, and she nodded.

"See. It is bad," she said, and I leaned forward to grab another bite for her and fed her.

"So, what do you suggest?" I asked feeling good with teasing her, and she chewed slowly, lifting her gaze up at me.

"For what?" She asked, and I squinted my brows with confusion about when she grew slower.

"Oh, the night, haha," she laughed, and I smiled.

"Night," she repeated awkwardly and slowly pushed my hands away.

"I just remembered that Ruhani was calling me. I should meet her," she said, and I smiled, biting on my lower lips.

"For tips?" I asked, and her eyes widened with shock.

"I thought my Rehana knew everything, no?" I asked, and she laughed a little.

"Well, I know everything. I have seen everything. I want to do everything, too. But, you know..." She lowered her gaze, inhaling a deep breath.

"Know what?" I asked, and she shook her head. I knew she was trying to think of something to say. She was too much into mouthy counter-attacks. She just loved arguing over anything or everything.

You say something, and she says something and keeps saying something to something. She was really good with words, and I was proud of her. She was genuinely a good reader.

Nothing came from her mouth, and I forwarded my hand to her. She looked at me with confusion and placed her hand fearfully in mine. Smiling at her, I pulled her into my lap and wrapped my hand around her shoulders. Her shoulder pressed into my chest, and I noticed how beautiful she looked in this rosy dress. I felt as if I was carrying a rose in my arms. So delicate and beautiful.

Lowering her gaze, she fidgeted her fingers on her dupatta as I pushed the loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Aap vo sab bhool kyu nahi jaati, Rehana,"

"Why do you not forget all these, Rehana," I asked, and she gulped silently, shaking her head.

"What?" she asked, and I inhaled deeply, looking away for a moment. I did not know how to make her comfortable with me. Until now, I had understood that whatever she had on her mind about her and me, those loving things she wanted, was maybe just to keep her away from the bad memories.

What if her memories would never fade away? And I was sure she still remembered everything from her past.

"Whatever it is, Rehana," I managed to say in a low voice, but she stayed silent, staring at her hands. Her ears turned redder, and as her cheeks flushed while her fingers froze on her dupatta in her lap, I gently placed my hand on hers and intertwined our hands.

"Tell me," I said, and she gulped, shaking her head.

"It's nothing," she said, looking up at me with a smile. I did not know why, but my chest tightened, noticing the pain in her eyes.

For the time, her lips carried a smile, but she did not look happy.

And how she tried to keep everything private made me feel as if I did not even know her.

For a moment, I thought about asking her again, but wondering if she was not comfortable with me, I pushed that idea away and nodded.

"Okay," I said and leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"But I am here for you," I assured her, and she smiled and nodded.

"You have always been there, Jaan-e-Jahan. That is why I call you that," she said, and I smiled weakly, nodding my head.

"Sultan," suddenly, a knock on the door caught our attention, and she looked at me after gazing at the door.

"Jaiye, aapka kaam aa gaya hai,"

"You should go; your duty calls," she said, and I clenched my jaw. I did not know why those attendees always found the wrong time to disturb us.

Though, I nodded as she rose from my lap.

"See you at night," I said, and she nodded. A tint of mischief was there on her face. I knew she would not be sitting idle after I left her on the edge. It was evident on her face.

"Of course," she said, stepping aside to let me walk.

"No planning, Rehana," I said, turning back to her before I opened the door.

She just smiled, and there I could confirm that something was about to happen that night. I did not know why I was enjoying myself with her, but I felt slightly excited to see what she would do.

Obviously, it's something crazy.

Walking out of the chamber, I looked at the attendee.

"Yes," I asked, clutching my fingers on my knife.

"The leader has finally opened his eyes," he informed in a low and tense voice, and I nodded, signaling her to leave.

Rehana did not know that I had captured the Dacoit leader to interrogate. She was already shocked after the incident, and I wanted to hide the events from her.

And, if I had to keep it hidden from her, I should not say anything to the family as well.

Also, it did not seem right to the guests. I mean, what would they think of us if they knew that the attack happened on her, the newly arrived wife?

The attack had put the reputation of the sultanate at stake as well.

Inhaling a deep breath, I directed my gaze towards the cell—the cells specially made for keeping dangerous people tied, captive, and hidden from everyone.

The soldiers standing outside bent their heads, and I moved closer to the thick black iron door. It was hidden beneath the long tails of trees. For people, it was just a wall covered with leaves and plants. But only Abbujaan and I knew we had a few people captured here.

One of them was the dacoits' leaders.

I looked around to see if anyone saw me as I entered the dungeon. Thankfully, no one did. And, with my steps inside it, the soldiers behind closed the door.

The darkness surrounded me like a haunted night. I stepped forward to hold a fire torch hanging on the wall to accompany me.

Noticing me, a soldier joined me, and I asked.

"Where is he?"

"This way," he answered in a low voice, and we turned to the right. The dungeon was built under a small hill after Abbujaan won the war, and no one knew about it. The workers worked hard to hollow the hill from the inside and made around three dozen small cells. Each prisoner had four highly maintained soldiers to be watched.

The mild noise of my footsteps echoed in the dungeons. I gazed at the prisoners. They were kept blindfolded here so they would not recall or remember anything.

I hate people who make mistakes, and these cells punish them well until they die.

The only mistake we made was leaving Hamid Sultan's family free. Abbujaan should have captured his brother and let him rot in prison. The mistake I made afterward was not recognizing him during those five wars. Had I known that he was included in them, I would have kept him here and did not tell a soul about it. And after knowing I might have seen him but did not know who he was, my blood boils harder.

He was not stopping there. He might have been dragging Rehana into his dirty plans as well. And I wanted to know all about these plans. I could not let anything happen to my family, and there was no chance Hamid Sultanate would become the scapegoat for Southern Arab's re-establishment in northern zones if there would be any.

"He is he," the soldier informed us as we stopped before a cell in the corner.

"Open the door," I commanded in a low voice and noticed the things kept there already to torture him.

One of the soldiers outside opened the door, and I stepped inside. He closed the door behind me, and I looked around to signal the whipper to step back.

The dacoit whimpered in pain, and I gazed at the deep, fine marks of whips available on his body, burning his skin and sending the chilly calm to my soul.

I signaled the soldier to bring me the things I needed.

"Wh... who are you? Open my eyes," the dacoit began crying as I sat before him and placed my knife on the table. It was made of a thick, rough wooden block. The signs of nails and knives reminded me of the brutal things I had done to some.

But, there was no regret. Each of them deserved it.

"Open his eyes," I commanded, and the soldier stepped forward to follow the orders.

The dacoit shivered and tried to get rid of the chains he was tied into.

"Make him sit here," I ordered, crossing my arms over my chest, and then he looked at me angrily.

"Why have you kept me here?" he asked, and I lifted my hand to silence him.

"Do not be too loud. My chamber is right up. You might disturb someone precious to me," I said, and he flared his nostrils in anger as the soldiers untied his hands. And, the moment he marched quickly towards me to hold his filthy hands on my collar, I pulled the knife off the sheath and pinned his hand to the thick table.

"Aaaaaarrrrrrrrr," his screams filled the whole dungeon, and I glared at him.

"I told you. Be silent," I said, pressing the knife harder so that it passed through his flesh and the blood started pooling around.

"Sit down," I ordered, pulling the knife out when he began to dizzy with the pain. I did not want to kill him until his men would try finding him and began bringing clues to me. Also, I wanted to know everything he knew.

The soldiers held his shoulders to make him sit on the small stool opposite the table, facing me.

"I will only ask you the three questions," I said, rubbing the blood mark off with the dirty cloth I had set aside.

He cried out, shaking his head.

"I do not know anything," he tried to say in his muffled voice, and I inhaled sharply.

"Pehle to iski awaaj kam karaiye,"

"First of all, get his volume down," I said, looking at the soldiers, and one of them slapped him hard across his cheeks.

"Listen to Sultan, and it will be easy," the soldier said, and I signaled him.

He nodded, grabbing the dacoit's right hand and placing it on the table, soaking in the blood of his left hand.

Leaning forward, I took the hammer and three thick, long nails in my hand before staring into his eyes.

He was shaking with the fear.

"Question number one. Who are you?" I asked in a low voice, and he started shaking even more, afraid, as I placed the tip of the nail on his index finger, just a centimeter lower than his nail.

"Please leave me. Please, I beg of you. I do not know anything," he said, and I closed my eyes with impatience and gently pressed the nail's tip inside his flesh.

He started screaming.

"Answer the question. Sultan will not repeat. Do not make things difficult for you," one of the soldiers tried to say, and the dacoit looked into my eyes.

"You will not get anything out of me," he said, gritting his teeth, and this was it. I kept the nail in place and, with one strong hit, moved it right through his finger, pinning it deeply into the wooden table.

His screams intensified, and I shook my head. I hated doing this, but they would not understand.

"Who are you?" I asked again, placing the other nail on his middle finger in the same place.

He shook terribly. He gulped with fear. The tears rolled down his cheeks. I could see his whole life flashing before him.

"My name is Aariz Khan. I am... the leader of dacoits," he said, and I shook my head.

"I am asking about your real occupation, not the one you are told to tell when caught," I said, and he shook his head with fear.

"I am telling the truth only," he said, and my patience began thinning with each passing moment. And I could not help but push the nail inside his flesh slowly.

He started screaming insanely.

"Fine, fine, fine..." He cried out, and I inhaled deeply, resisting myself with the hammer and nail in my hand.

"I work for Sultan... Tabriz Khan," he said, and I knit my brows.

"Who is he?" I asked, and he looked at me with fear.

"He owns the small Sultanate at the border of the northern Arab. He asked me to lead the dacoits..."

"Who ordered you to kidnap my wife?" I asked further, and just by bringing her mention to the men like him, I felt a tightness in my chest.

He turned silent.

"I do not know," he said, and I clenched my jaw and could not stop myself from pushing the second nail inside his finger.

He cried and screamed even louder, and I leaned back on the chair.

"The more you try to hide, the more you will get. And do not forget you have ten more fingers in your legs," I said, and he shook his head.

"Aadil Khan... Aadil Khan asked us to kidnap her to bring her to him," the moment those words came out of his mouth, my heart sank deeper.

Her father.

She met her father and did not tell me.

Or she did not know?

"Why?" I asked my third question and placed his ring finger straight before I tipped the nail on it.

"I do not know. I do not know. I swear, I was only asked to create chaos and bring her back into the market. I do not know anything else. I swear. We are told only what to do. I do not know," he said, and I shook my head.

"Where were you going to take her?" I asked, holding the hammer in my hand and began gently and slowly hitting it over the nail.

He started shaking and screaming louder.

"Where the hell were you going to take her?" I asked again, and he only screamed louder.

"Nowhere. I swear. Nowhere. He came to meet her. He was there to meet her," he said, and I shook my head in disbelief.

So, she met him and did not tell me.

Why?

Why did she hide it?

Or was she waiting?

But for what?

"Where the hell were you going to take her?" I asked louder, and the nail had pushed inside his finger half an inch.

He started screaming louder only.

"To Tabriz Khan. Aadil Khan was going to take her to Tabriz Khan," he spoke out, and I placed the hammer back on the table.

"I do not know anything else. I swear. We were paid for it. I am not lying. Trust me," he said, and I nodded.

"Yes, I am trusting you," I said, rising up from the chair and signalled the soldiers to keep her alive, tied and tortured until I bring Tabriz Khan to the cell beside his.

And, her father, Aadil Khan was so dead.

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