6. Deranged

Hamza stepped inside the haveli (mansion) and Akram was right there waiting for him.

"I told you to stay with Hafsa," Hamza gritted out. He had showered, bandaged his wound, and changed his clothes in his private penthouse where he would go often when he was not in the state to come straight to the haveli.

"She's with Ma'am Batool." Akram said and Hamza sighed.

"How's ami? (Mom)." He asked.

"She woke up in the afternoon, we gave her fresh fruits which she rejected, she didn't drink her soup, and also she didn't take her medicines," Akram informed and Hamza rubbed his face with a sigh.

"Bring something to eat in Ami's (mom's) room." He said and Akram nodded scurrying to the kitchen. Hamza walked toward his mom's room. Knocking once he opened the door. The sight in front of him made his heart wrench.

Batool was sitting on the edge of the bed crying and Hafsa was sitting on the floor with her head resting on Ami's (mom's) lap as she sobbed like a broken soul.

"Hamza, come here," Batool called her son who instantly ambled to his mom and sat down on the floor with Hafsa.

Batool cupped his cheek and jutted her chin towards Hafsa. Hamza stood up and he grabbed Hafsa's hand making her sit on the bed as well and he sat beside her.

"H...Hamza, I'm a widow now," she cried, inconsolably. Batool's and Hamza's hearts broke seeing Hafsa like this. Though Hamza knew what type of man Zeeshan was, even Batool knew that Zeeshan wasn't a good man yet she married her daughter off to that man because Hafsa loved him.

"W...why did he leave me, Hamza?" Hafsa sobbed.

Hamza grabbed her hands, squeezing them lightly. "Stay strong Hafsa." The door was knocked and he ordered the person to come in.

A servant came in holding a tray of food. Hamza flicked his head towards the coffee table. The servant left the room.

"All we can do now is pray for the ease of his soul," Hamza said calmly and Hafsa's eyes flashed with a certain emotion.

"My husband didn't die an accidental death. He was murdered. Do you understand what this means? His soul won't be at rest until his killers die a brutal death," Hafsa spat venomously, she looked distraught. Not in her normal senses. Hamza's jaw clenched as he nodded his head.

"They will die a brutal death, you have my words. I'm already looking for them." Hamza said calmly and his words alone brought a small amount of relief to Hafsa whereas Batool frowned at her son.

Tears brimmed her eyes again and his heart twisted in his chest as he gently wiped her tears.

Hamza grabbed a plate of rice and urged her to eat but she just shook her head. Batool watched the siblings with a heavy heart. At this age getting such devastating news was never good but this was God's will and she can do nothing against it. All Batool could do was pray for a better happy future for her daughter. 

Hafsa barely ate a few spoons full before she moved back and balled up on the bed.

Batool stared at her daughter who had her back to them. "Ami, (mother)" Batool's eyes fell on the small morsel and then at her son.

She shook her head, she didn't have any appetite at all. The only thing she was feeling was heart-dropping seeing her daughter. Though Hafsa was always a stubborn, defiant, and troublesome daughter. She was her daughter in the end. Batool could feel her daughter's pain like no one else.

"Please Ami, eat something. You are not well. You had to take care of yourself so we both could look after Hafsa," He tried to make her understand, and somehow he was right.

Batool opened her mouth as Hamza fed her the morsel. She ate slowly and he patiently fed her. After a few more morsels she was done eating.

Hamza helped his mom to lay on the bed beside Hafsa as he placed her cane beside her bedside table.

He covered both of them with a blanket. Even though Hafsa was half asleep she was still crying and the vicious need to get his hands on the culprits got stronger.

He placed the tray out of the room Where the servant could take it as he switched off the lights and closed the door.

Hamza walked to his wing and instead of going to his room he trekked into the study. Taking out a bottle of liquor he poured himself a glass.

Plopping down on his seat he took a sip, resting his head back on the headrest, he let the curtains of his eyes drop and sighed.

He shouldn't have given her that cut. Her skin was so soft, unblemished but he gave her a scar to be as a lifetime reminder if she got left alive which had least to no chances.

The girl had gotten into the wrong hands, she didn't even know whom she messed with. What if she was innocent? But that could barely be a possibility with all the evidence going against her, he can't possibly find her innocent just because she had so f*cking tantalizing eyes which were filled with chastity.

And now he was ridiculously being affected by Farhan's words.

But...

He sat up straight and dialed for Salar. He picked up on the first call even at this time of the night.

"I want you to look more into it. More evidence to claim that girl did all this. Or the people behind her. Anything. I want more info," he said curtly.

"Yes, boss." Came Salar's reply.

Hamza put his phone on the table and rested back. Chugging down his whole drink in one go, he felt his throat burning but there was a vast endless pit of fire crackling in his heart and this fire would only diminish when he would kill the culprits of that bastard. He won't do it for that dead f*cker but for his devastated sister, he would avenge that man.

But why didn't he like the idea of killing that girl? Sooner or later, she had to die. It was inevitable but why didn't he want to put any more scars on her.

There was no denying it, the girl was f*cking attractive, but she was a whore with a face of purity. Maybe she was just so beautiful that it felt wrong to taint her beauty. But he would care less. If he had to scar her face just to get answers out of her then alas he won't hesitate to do that.

Shaking his head he raked his fingers through his hair and sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

The next morning he held a huge conference. Where he stated that his brother-in-law died due to a heart attack and now his party would come under his wing.

Hamza was a top-notch well known businessman. Him being the nation's most feared mafia Don was only known to a few underground people, though everyone knows his name, only a few had seen his face, the face of the cruelest man. But in the world of business, he was known as a successful gentleman.

Now as Hamza took the reins of the opposition party, many people in the political party were happy while the other parties didn't like the change at all.

Hamza cleverly molded everything from the hospital records to the death reports, no one knew that Zeeshan was murdered. This way whoever had killed him would be more scared now. Because there will be no case to be taken to the courts. There will be only one judge, Hamza Shah. And no judge could be more merciless than him.

Instead of going back home, he opted to head for the warehouse where the girl was kept.

Hamza noticed three of his men in the corridor. As soon as they saw him, they straightened up and greeted him, he nodded and walked to the room where she was kept. He unlocked the door and got in only to notice Farhan standing in the middle of the room with a box of pizza in his hand and then his eyes flew to the girl who was curled up in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest fully covered in her thin veil.

Damn as hell she looks like an abducted bride in that attire, not to forget her henna-clad hands and her henna-clad toes.

The girl had her face hidden in her arms.

Hamza arched a perfect brow at Farhan. 'Pizza?' Hamza mouthed mockingly. Since when did they start treating their captives with pizza?

"She isn't eating anything," Farhan said calmly and Hamza jutted his chin out motioning him to leave but before Farhan could walk past him, Hamza grabbed the box from him and Farhan left, closing the door behind.

Hamza walked toward the girl with silent steps, it was pretty clear that she didn't know he was there.

He crouched down and deliberately placed the box near her feet. She flinched, hiding her toes in her skirt.

He was about to speak when her small voice reached his ears.

"M...mujhe bathroom jana hai. (I need to use the restroom)" She mumbled in a small voice probably thinking it was Farhan.

"Farhan!" Hamza boomed so loudly that the girl jolted and a shriek tore through her lips as she found him so close to her.

She palmed her mouth as tears burned the back of her eyes, she instantly hid her face in her arms. He noticed the gauze around the wound he had given her.

Farhan strides in looking bewildered but he stops seeing Hamza crouching down near the girl who was hiding her face and trying to hide into the wall.

"Jao, (go)" Hamza said coldly as the girl immediately stumbled to her feet and almost ran to Farhan as if he was her savior. Hamza scoffed as Farhan took her out of the room. Hamza stood up with the box of pizza. There was one empty chair in the room. Hamza sat on it waiting for the girl to come back.

Within a few minutes, the door opened and Farhan was dragging the struggling girl back. "P...please... d...don't leave me with him... p...please." She was pleading with Farhan in a small voice.

Hamza had heard the girl. "Leave, Farhan," Hamza said coldly draining the life out of her as Farhan let go of her arm and stalked out in hurried steps, she was too late to run after him because until then he had closed the door and locked it.

She banged on the door hard, not caring about the sheer pain or that her stitches would open up. There was fear creeping at her insides and she became silent as the dark inky night when she felt his hot breath on her ear. Her shoulders shrank and she hugged herself. He was standing so close, right behind her.

She didn't dare to turn around and face the monster. She took a step forward almost plastering her front to the door in hopes of creating appropriate distance between them but little did she know, she was caging herself.

Her heart stopped beating when he placed his large veiny hands on the door on either side of her head. 

"Dar rahi ho mujhse? (Are you scared of me?)" He asked calmly looking down at the part where her neck met her shoulder, her unblemished skin was visible through the netted veil as it moved to the side giving him a good view. 

Her throat clogged up and she was tongue-tied with her heart drumming in her ears.

"Darna bhi chahiye. (You should be)" He cooed like a psychotic man and her stomach churned in anxiety, her legs trembling; ready to give out on her. She clutched the veil tighter to her chest closing her eyes shut in absolute terror when she felt his chest brushing against her shoulder blades.

"Because I'm a monster," he declared like a deranged man.