Chapter 57

                                    

                                          
The next morning, the tension in the house was palpable. Humza stood outside by the car, dressed sharply in a white button-down shirt and dark pants, his jaw tight with anger and frustration. His dark eyes glanced at the front door every few seconds, the irritation on his face growing as each moment passed. Rhythm's family stood around, her parents, grandparents, and cousins waiting patiently, whispering among themselves, their gazes flicking nervously between Humza and the house. It had been over an hour, and still, there was no sign of Rhythm.
Humza's patience, already stretched thin, snapped. Without a word, he stormed back into the house, his footsteps heavy and authoritative. He knew exactly where she was.
He marched straight to her room, pushing the door open without knocking. There she was, sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs drawn up, her arms wrapped around them as if she were shielding herself from the world. Her long dark hair fell messily over her face, but even without seeing her eyes, Humza knew the battle raging within her. It mirrored his own.
"Why the hell haven't you come down?" he demanded, his voice cold, a sharp contrast to the seething frustration underneath.
Rhythm lifted her head, her glare icy, meeting his darkened gaze with equal intensity. Her heart pounded in her chest, anger and hurt battling for dominance. Her father's words from the night before echoed in her mind, mixing with her own guilt, grief, and the unbearable weight of Humza's presence. She blamed him—blamed him for her brother's death, for the destruction of her once peaceful world. And yet, she still felt the dangerous pull he had on her, that inexplicable force that tugged at her every time he was near.
"I'm not going with you," she spat, her voice dripping with defiance.
Humza's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "What did you just say?"
"I. Am. Not. Going. With. You," Rhythm repeated, louder this time, each word punctuated by a rising fury. "You can't just march in here and think you can control everything! I'm not your prisoner, Humza. I don't belong to you!"
Her words hit him like a slap. His fists clenched at his sides as he took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. But the more she fought him, the more that primal, dominant side of him surfaced—the side of him that refused to let her walk away, no matter what. She didn't understand. He wasn't going to let anything happen to her, even if it meant taking her by force.
"You don't get to make that decision, Rhythm," he growled, stepping closer, his towering frame looming over her. "You're my wife, whether you like it or not. And as long as I'm breathing, I'm going to protect you."
Rhythm shot up from the bed, her anger flaring hotter. "Protect me?" she scoffed bitterly. "Is that what you were doing when my brother died? Was that your idea of protection?"
Humza's face twisted with pain, but he quickly masked it with anger. "Don't bring him into this."
"How can I not?" she shouted, her hands trembling with rage. "His blood is on your hands!"
That was the last straw. Something inside Humza snapped. Without thinking, without any control, he grabbed her wrist, yanking her towards him. The heat of their bodies clashed, the air between them thick with tension. Rhythm gasped, her breath hitching as she felt the strength of his grip, the raw power in the way he held her.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he hissed, his eyes blazing with a dangerous mix of anger. "You can hate me and blame me all you want, but you're coming with me."
Rhythm's chest heaved, her emotions spiraling out of control. She shoved at his chest, trying to push him away. "I won't go! I won't—"
Before she could finish, Humza's hands tightened around her wrist, and in one swift motion, he threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing at all. Rhythm let out a startled cry, her fists pounding against his back as he carried her out of the room.
"Humza, put me down! You can't do this!" she screamed, her voice laced with fury and panic. She kicked her legs, trying to break free, but it was no use. He held her firmly, unyielding, his muscles taut with tension.
"I told you, Rhythm," he growled as he marched down the stairs, "I'm not giving you a choice."
Her family watched from the doorway, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement. Her parents exchanged knowing glances, small smiles tugging at their lips. They had seen this before—the fierce stubbornness of their daughter and the equally fierce domination of the man she was married to. In their eyes, this was exactly what Rhythm needed. Someone who wouldn't back down, who wouldn't let her spiral into her own grief and anger.
By the time they reached the car, Rhythm was breathless from fighting him. He opened the passenger door and put her into the seat, quickly securing her with the seatbelt before she could wriggle free. She glared at him, panting, her chest rising and falling with the intensity of her emotions.
"I hate you," she spat, her voice trembling.
Humza leaned in close, his face inches from hers. His breath was hot against her skin, his dark eyes burning into her soul. He grabbed her face, his long fingers squeezing her cheeks, making her lips pout. His eyes snapped to those cherry lips he so badly wanted to taste, to bite. "Hate me all you want, Rhythm." He leaned closer, his eyes still on her lips, while his own lips just inches away from hers. "But you're still mine."
Without another word, he slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver's seat, his anger simmering beneath the surface. Rhythm's heart pounded as she sat there, trapped in the car with him, the weight of his words pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. She hated him for what he had done, for the pain he had caused her, but more than anything, she hated the way her body still responded to him, despite everything.
As they drove, the silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Rhythm stared out the window, her mind racing, her chest aching with the weight of everything that had happened. She wanted to scream, to cry, to fight him, but she was too tired—too worn down by the constant battle between them.
An hour into the drive, just as the tension in the car seemed unbearable, everything changed.
Out of nowhere, a black SUV swerved into their lane, cutting them off. Humza's reflexes kicked in, and he jerked the wheel to avoid a collision. Rhythm let out a gasp as the car skidded, tires screeching against the asphalt.
"Hold on!" Humza shouted, his voice sharp with urgency while his free hand was in front of her like a protecting shield. 
Before she could react, the SUV rammed into them from the side, sending their car spinning out of control. The world outside became a blur of motion—trees, road, sky—all blending together in a dizzying whirlwind. Rhythm's heart raced in her chest, fear gripping her like a vice.
Humza fought to regain control of the car, but it was no use. They careened off the road, crashing into the ditch with a bone-rattling thud. The impact jolted through them both, and for a moment, everything went still.
Rhythm's breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. Her body ached from the force of the crash, her mind spinning. She glanced over at Humza, who was already unbuckling his seatbelt, his expression tense and focused.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough with concern.
"I—yeah, I think so," she stammered, still dazed.
But there was no time to think. No time to process.
Because as they sat there, another car pulled up, and men in black suits emerged, guns drawn.
Humza's face darkened, his protective instincts kicking in. "Stay down," he ordered, reaching for something under his seat.
Author's Note;- 
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