His eyes darted around, and then, suddenly, he heard it — voices. He stilled, straining to hear. The sounds of horses moving through the forest caught his attention. He quickly moved toward the source, making sure to remain hidden behind the trees. As he approached closer, the sight before him made his blood run cold.
Meerab.
There she was, her saree clinging to her wet form, disheveled and clearly distressed. She stood by the river, trying to fight off a man who was forcefully dragging her toward a horse. Her hair, damp and undone, whipped around her face as she struggled, her cries of protest sharp and panicked. Two other men stood nearby, keeping a lookout.
Murtasim’s entire being roared with rage at the sight. His vision tunneled in on the man holding her by the hair, dragging her, making her scream. The sound of her voice crying out in pain ignited something primal within him. But he knew he couldn’t rush in blindly. Her life — their lives — depended on him being smart about this. He had to think.
He crouched low, creeping closer to the man who stood nearest to him. Quietly, he closed the distance, his hands steady and lethal. Without making a sound, Murtasim covered the man's mouth and struck him in a precise spot on his head, knocking him unconscious. He dragged the limp body away, making sure no one noticed.
Murtasim quickly stripped the man of his tunic, donning it himself to blend in with the others. Once disguised, he approached the scene, his heart pounding with fury as he saw Meerab still struggling against the horseman. The man had her by the arm, his grip rough and merciless.
As Murtasim moved closer, he saw Meerab’s terrified eyes dart toward him for a brief second. She didn’t recognize him at first, her mind too caught up in the panic. He strode forward, seizing her arm with enough force to stop her movements but not enough to hurt her. Turning her around roughly, he forced her to face him. Meerab, thinking he was just another one of them, raised her hand to strike him in desperation.
But Murtasim caught her wrist mid-air, twisting it behind her back just enough to subdue her without causing harm. “Don’t,” he hissed under his breath, his grip firm yet controlled.
The horseman turned to him, oblivious to Murtasim's true identity. “Good, get her on the horse and follow us. We’re taking her to the palace,” the man ordered.
Murtasim nodded, his face blank but his mind swirling with murderous thoughts. He dragged Meerab toward the horse, his grip still tight on her wrist to maintain the act. As they neared the animal, Meerab began to struggle again, her fear overwhelming her. But before she could protest further, Murtasim loosened his grip slightly and leaned close, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me,” he said, his tone soft yet urgent.
Meerab stilled, her body going rigid as his words sunk in. Her head snapped toward him, and for the first time, she noticed the familiar dark eyes behind the stranger’s tunic. “Murtasim?” she whispered, her voice trembling with both disbelief and relief.
Without warning, she lunged toward him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her face into his chest. The suddenness of her embrace stunned Murtasim. She clung to him, her body shaking with silent sobs as she pressed herself closer, seeking comfort and safety in his presence.
Murtasim stood there, frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond. But then, slowly, his arms wrapped around her, holding her gently yet protectively. He rested his chin lightly on the top of her head, his fingers brushing her wet hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “You’re safe now.”
“I was so scared,” Meerab’s voice broke as she spoke, muffled against his chest.
“I know,” Murtasim murmured softly, his hand rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles. “I’m here. Nothing will happen to you. I promise.”
For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as the world around them seemed to pause. Murtasim couldn’t deny the strange sensation of protectiveness that had gripped his heart. He wasn’t used to this — the fierce need to protect someone, to reassure them with nothing but his presence. But with Meerab, it felt natural, almost instinctive.
After a few minutes, Murtasim gently pulled away, looking down at her tear-streaked face. “We need to go,” he said softly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheek.
Meerab nodded, her body still trembling slightly from the ordeal. Murtasim helped her onto the horse, making sure she was secure before he mounted behind her. His strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as he guided the horse back toward the village.
As they rode in silence, Meerab leaned back against him, her body finally beginning to relax. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her back, and despite everything that had happened, she felt safe. Safer than she had in a long time.
Murtasim, too, felt an odd sense of calm wash over him as they made their way back to the village. For now, they were safe, and that was all that mattered.