Ataahua AN: Not much to say other than I hope everyone's 2018 has started off fantabulously!

DH AN: Thanks for the love last chapter… really settled my nerves now excuse me while I'm still on my OHMYGOSHY'ALLLOVEDIT High. Hoping y'all enjoy this one too- kudos to the awesome co-author for all her fingerwork as per usual.

Worth noting: The true extent of the abilities of the Millennium Rod are a smidge vague in the show, but we know Marik used it to trick Arkana into thinking that key wasn't in his hand, so we figure it isn't far-fetched for him to be able to use it to permanently tamper with memories to some extent; maybe not long-term memories, but perhaps when the memory is fresh in the person's mind.

We hope you enjoy the second part of the dinner date! This one is kind of another doozy!


Chapter Twenty Eight: The Dinner Date Pt II

Mirah found him silently stewing near the entrance, plonked on a bench carved from a solid slab of chestnut wood, its smooth surface polished to perfection. For once, he sat with a slump, his back curved to the brick wall behind him. He still looked to have a stick up his ass though.

The quiet clack of her heels tore through the faint chirps of crickets as she stepped over to the blond, sliding into the empty spot at his side. He didn't move an inch, his eyes affixed to a lone light, hanging from an awning overhead.

"Is it worth it?"

"Is what worth it?"

"The lengths to which we go to achieve what we want."

He glanced her way, indifferent. "That entirely depends on what one wants."

"What do you want, Marik?" Mirah crossed her leg right over left as she idly twirled a ringlet of stray hair around her finger. "And I mean really want, so don't give me any 'rule the world' rubbish."

He chuckled, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. "How do you know that's not what I live and breathe for?"

"You're no simpleton, Blondie." Mirah pulled that same ringlet taut, pausing to eye it thoughtfully. "You're a lot like me." She let the ringlet fall, a slight smile quirking her scarlet lips. "You say one thing, but mean another. Yet, at other times we're nothing alike. You'll stay silent, yet show absolutely everything", her smile turned cheeky," like how much you care for Dear A'isha."

Marik's eyes dashed to hers. "Asiya," he corrected, already knowing his efforts were in vain.

"Cut the crap, Marik. I was in Egypt a week back and she was all over the papers. Her cousin too." A simper toyed with her lips, not that one was ever gone long. "I also noticed she's the niece of a well-respected detective in Alexandria… I'm guessing she found out one of your dirty little secrets? Or was the head in your pants responsible for the poorly chosen kidnappee?"

He shot her a glare. "Did you merely come out here to gloat?"

"Not at all," she said simply. "I am curious, though. Why'd you take her?"

"A now former employee allowed my name to slip from his tongue in her presence."

"Let me guess." She resisted laughter. "The poor sod felt the wrath of your golden stick?"

"For the last time, I'm not gay."

"Look at you, Mr Really Hot, using colloquial words like 'gay'. Did A'isha teach you that when she questioned your sexuality?"

Marik's unimpressed expression was answer enough.

"What can you expect when every Rare Hunter in your charge has a pocket rocket?" He could only assume that was British slang for male genitalia. "And don't give me that sexist bollocks about women being inferior to men, even in this line of work. You and I both know I'm living proof that's a lie." She paused, thoughtful. "As a matter of fact, Blondie, work is the very reason I'm gracing you with my presence."

"Is that so?" Marik crossed his arms, sending her a sideways glance. "Very well. I'm listening."

"I want a job."

Marik blinked back his shock. His face twisted with utter refusal, slowly shifted to mild consideration and finally, suspicion. "And just why would The Cobras' second-in-command and future heiress wish to join my ranks?"

"Why, Marik, I'm shocked." Her face contorted into a look of mock outrage. "It's almost as if you don't trust me!"

"Well?" he almost spat.

Mirah embraced a more serious tone, knowing he was particularly sour tonight. "Let's just say my father's an inconceivable prick and my mother's missing. I want to find her and I need the resources to do it. I can't use my own. My father has access to anything and everything involving The Cobras, regardless of whether he makes use of that fact." She watched Marik from the edge of her eye. "That, Mr R.H., is where you come in." She plucked a folded piece of parchment from her bra cup and held it out to the blond. "These are the terms of my employment."

For a minute, silence filled the air as Marik flicked the beige parchment open and perused its contents, carefully reading the fine script.

"Should you choose to accept my offer, I will assume my position immediately, thereby returning to your fancy-schmancy ship tonight with you and Dear A'isha."

"Why betray your father?"

"Have you not deduced that he's a giant wanker?"

Marik had a feeling there was more to it than that, though he didn't press the matter. The slowly fading handprint on her cheek was reason enough. That didn't exactly quench his curiosity, but there was time for that later.

"How do I know this isn't an act?"

"A dear friend of mine once said to trust him and I did." A genuine, rarely seen smile set her face aglow. "Is it too much to ask that he return the favour?" Her smile turned impish. "When I led you to Zera and Zera Ritual, you did agree to grant me a favour at a time of my choosing."

Marik's lips formed a firm line. "You were already planning this proposal a week ago."

"Are you truly surprised?"

Marik snorted. "Not in the least." He chose that moment to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Where's A'isha?"

"I left your dear fiancée in the restroom. Told her to stay there till she hears three knocks on the door, a second-long pause between each one." Her eyes glimmered with amusement. "I assumed Amara's in your oh so hospitable care to keep your dear fiancée in line, or I wouldn't have left her alone."

"And Salim?"

"That cigar will keep him busy for at least another twenty minutes."

Marik rose from his seat, likely with more grace than he'd entered it. "You'll undoubtedly be of use to my organization; however, I have a few terms of my own." He tucked the beige parchment in an inner-pocket of his smoke grey suit coat, and flashed her a crooked smile. "Might I suggest that we cement this little deal of ours on my ship, following the conclusion of our dinner?"

Mirah elegantly found her feet. "I'd rather we come to an agreement prior to me entering the lion's den." She brandished a sugary smile. "Perhaps in the powder room with your dear fiancée present and a locked door separating us from uninvited ears?"

Marik's distaste was written all over his face.

"Don't tell me you're dissuaded by the prospect of A'isha seeing a marginally less selfish side of you?" Her grin was ridiculous as she leaned in close, a taunting glimmer in her eyes. "Women love a little selflessness, you know?"

"She has a boyfriend."

"A minor setback."

"I kidnapped her."

"Who's to say you can't kidnap her heart too?"

Marik rolled his eyes, earning a laugh.

"So," Mirah drawled, "is our discussion taking place in the powder room or not?"

Knowing she wouldn't agree to anything less, Marik nodded curtly. "I'll settle the bill, we'll retrieve A'isha, and leave before Salim becomes aware of our little deal."

"You? Paying?"

"It would be unwise to use the rod merely to avoid settling a bill. It runs the risk of attracting unnecessary and unwelcomed attention. I'd rather not have any other Millennium Item wielders tracking me down, like my dear sister."

Surprisingly, Mirah had nothing to say to that. Her curt nod was enough. "Shall we, then?"

He strode past the older woman, arrogance echoing in every step. "Follow me."

x

A'isha slipped her translucent powder in her handbag, making a mental note to tell Amara she could totally make a career out of her passion for makeup. Any confidence her cousin showed was a façade, so a little encouragement would only be a good thing. Also, she felt like a million bucks right now thanks to Amara. Given her current circumstances, she'd gladly take any pick-me-ups she could get.

As she zipped up her handbag, the rock on her ring finger caught the overhead lights. Actually, make that two million bucks. She glanced at the locked door across the powder room. How long have I been waiting? Two minutes? Maybe five? Naaa, it didn't take me THAT long to powder my face—

"All occupied!" a desperate voice cried outside. "But I'm busting!"

A'isha went taut, her eyes flying wider than the shiny china this place served its grub on. She knew that voice. She'd known it for twelve flippin' years.

Julie!?

Delight and disbelief collided, wrestling with her mind as she dashed to the door in three large strides. She flicked the lock and gripped the handle, only to freeze with uncertainty. Mirah would return in maybe five minutes, but only to retrieve her, signalling that it was safe to leave. She was simply in here to avoid Salim's wrath or whatever. She could always shove Julie in the adjoining restroom. And even then, something told her Mirah wouldn't bother tittle-tattling to Marik anyway. Or maybe that was desperation egging her on—

Oh, screw it!

A'isha twisted the handle and inched the door open. Doubt whispered in her ear, insisting that she was hearing things… that this was too good to be true. Nonetheless, she sought an answer with her own eyes, peering around the door. Another wave of shock flooded through her. A cross-legged Julie was squirming in the corridor, clad in a flowing, sapphire dress that skimmed her pale knees. She didn't recognise the garb; must've been a recent purchase.

Chocolate brown eyes snapped her way, relief shimmering in their depths at the prospect of emptying her bladder. With an awkward clear of her throat, A'isha drew the door aside.

Julie's jaw went slack, shock transforming her face. "Holy shit," she breathed, reality slowly descending upon her. "Holy shit! A'isha!?" She'd dashed to the door in an instant. "Blinkin' heck! Is it really—"

Gasping, A'isha slapped her hand to the girl's mouth, her face twisting with urgency. She snuck a glance around the doorway, ensuring they were alone, then turned back to Julie. Her hand left her friend's lips as she lurched the door wide and frantically ushered the girl inside, knots forming in her stomach. If Marik found out about this—well, she didn't want to think about that.

After locking the door behind her, A'isha spun to find Julie gaping at her. Clearly, she was wondering if she'd finally lost her marbles.

"Umm."

A'isha's mind went blank. What should she say? Where should she even begin? Holy smokes, her best friend was standing right in front of her! Of all the places in Italy her parents could've taken her for her birthday, they took her here! Well, Ish had said Catania was worth checking out but—gah! What the hell?!

"You… uhh… You should probably go pee before you ruin that pretty dress."

Julie nodded slowly, as though in a daze. "Yeah," she drawled, yet didn't take a step.

"Uhh… Are… you gonna…?"

Finally, A'isha's words snapped some sense into the English girl. "Oh! Ah! Yeah!" She gaped at Ish as she shuffled into the adjoining restroom. "I'm just… erm… gonna go… use the loo. Yeah… I'm using the loo…"

The moment Julie clicked the door shut, A'isha raced to the bench, gripping the cool marble like her legs would give way at any given moment. "What the hell am I doing?" she whispered, too quiet for Jules to hear. "Oh God, what are you doing, Ish?" Now she was pacing. "What should I tell her? What shouldn't I tell her?" She'd circled the room once." What if Mirah rocks up, sees her and does tell Marik? What if he kidnaps her too?" She stopped. "Or worse…"

A glimmer of hope sparked within her.

"But what if this is your ticket outta—"

Cruel realisation snuffed that hope from existence like an arctic chill.

"Marik still has Amara." Her fist met the wall to her left. "Damn it!"

The flush of the toilet had her gathering any composure that wall punch had seized. Julie emerged a few seconds later, silent as she washed her hands, then dried them off on a snowy white hand towel. She tossed it in a nearby hamper, noticeably calmer as she turned to face her friend. One deep breath and the Brit's lips parted, "Okay. Shoot."

A'isha recalled their phone call a few days back. "Well, you already know Mar and I have been kidnapped."

Her forehead creased. "By that Namu creep, right?"

A'isha groaned, remembering the letter she'd left for her caregivers. "Okay, I thought that was his name when I wrote that note to Ahad, but it's actually Marik." She gently gripped Jules' shoulders, almost as if the girl would float away if she didn't. "And Julie... Marik, he's... he's The R.H." She felt Julie tense beneath her fingers.

"He's the WHAT?!"

She shot the girl another look of alarm, a reminder to keep her voice down.

"Sorry, it's just—" A line etched between her brows. "Why would the head honcho of the Rare Hunters kidnap two teenage girls?" She sucked in air, horror-struck. "Oh God… Is… Is he a…"

A'isha got the gist. 'Is he a rapist?'

"N-NO!" she squawked, a little louder than intended. "Remember how Dani found that deck of cards in an alley? And how he gave them to me to give to Ahad?"

"Yeah?"

"And- And how I got mugged before I could?"

Julie nodded, her pity plainer than day.

"So the guy who mugged me was a Rare Hunter, and the idiot let Marik's name slip to me when he took those cards."

Julie's eyes lit up. "Ohhh! And he doesn't call himself The R.H. for nothing. He obviously doesn't want his name getting out and Ahad's a detective who's out to get him, so you're, like, the worst person to find it out… aside from Ahad, of course."

"Exactly!" A'isha's hands left her friend's shoulders, balling at her sides. She considered punching the wall again. "I'm such a dumb ass! Honestly! Why couldn't I have just told Ahad straight away?! I mean, I was kinda screwed up from that whole ordeal and life got in the way and he was super busy with work but—ugh! It just- It didn't even occur to me—"

"Hey," Julie murmured, her hand settling atop her friend's shoulder. "No point in dwelling on the could have's. I'm guessing Marik's around? He's gonna wonder what's taking so long." She flashed a weak smile. "So please, throw all the 'need to know' stuff at me."

A'isha swallowed a breath. "Okay. Marik has a boat. It's mostly grey and white, about the size of a small cruise or… I dunno… like a massive yacht. That's how the Rare Hunters get around." She was talking a mile a minute and more. "He has super light blond hair. Like, almost white. And it's- it's long, ends just below his shoulders." She showed as much with her hands. "Umm. And… And he has purple eyes. Really light purple… lilac, lavender, something like that. His skin's about the same colour as mine. He's apparently from Egypt… if he wasn't lying. Oh, and he's sixteen today!"

Julie leaned closer. "Hold up. The R.H. is only sixteen?!"

A'isha bobbed her head twice. "And- And- Uhh…" Important stuff, Ish. Important stuff! "He's got this golden rod… like some ancient artefact. I think it's Egyptian 'cause it has this, umm, this weird Egyptian eye symbol on it… well, I think the symbol's Egyptian. Looks like the Eye of Horus minus the under-eye flick or something. He calls the artefact the Millennium Rod. It- It lets him control and read minds—don't even ask!" She gripped the Brit's shoulders again. "Just believe me when I say it's not bullshit. He used it to kidnap Amara. Hell, he pretty much killed a guy with it! Well, he said he sent the creep's soul to the shadows, whatever that meant, but—"

"Bloody hell, this shizz be crazy!"

"You're telling me!"

"Hold on." A'isha could just see the gears turning in Julie's head. "My table has a good view of the dance floor and I'm sure I saw your dress out there. I didn't see the girl's face from where I was, but I had a pretty good view of the guy's. Was that—Were you two dancing?!"

A'isha went scarlet in a millisecond. "Y-Yeah, but I didn't have a choice! Trust me, I hated every damn second of it!"

"How- How the bloody hell is The R.H. so damn hot?!" Julie exclaimed, dumbfounded. "Shouldn't he be bald with a weird accent, a hairless cat and a spinny chair?"

"This isn't Austin Powers, Julie!"

"Okay, I was kinda joking with the Dr. Evil reference."

"Look, I know you're tryna cheer me up, but his looks aren't the point! Just- Just tell me you're remembering all this!"

"Yeah, yeah! I'm remembering, believe me!" Julie reassured, slapping her own cheek as though telling herself off for the joke. "So why are you in some fancy Italian restaurant wearing an elegant dress and sparkly jewellery? Shouldn't you be chained up in a torture chamber or something? Does he have, like, sugar daddy fantasies or something and you're just the unlucky girl he chose to fulfil them with? I mean, isn't it really risky having you out in public like this?" She snorted, gesturing to herself. "Exhibit A, you've come across your best friend."

A'isha released Julie, her arms falling to her sides. "The asshole suffers from a severely swollen ego and enough arrogance to be a one-man political party."

Julie smacked her lips together, holding back a giggle. "Is it… kind of bad that I sorta wanna meet him?"

"Seriously? Ugh! Why don't we trade places?!"

"You know what? I'm good. But goodness, how're there actually people like him?" A rhetorical question, of course. The world was full of jerks. "Why don't you ditch the psycho and come with me now? We'll go back to my table, call the cops and—"

"He still has Amara back on his ship and that mind-controlling rod. My hands are tied and he knows it." Ish chewed on her bottom lip. "Jules, you have no idea how much I'm risking just by talking to you now."

"So where's the creep at the mo? He actually let you go pee tinkle without standing guard outside or some shizz?"

"Something pissed him off," A'isha whispered, glancing at the door. "He stormed off outside and is probably talking to this ninja assassin lady right now. She locked me in here to protect me from her crazy boss, so she could go outside to talk to my equally crazy captor."

Julie opened her mouth, probably to exclaim that her bestie's life was sounding more and more like a TV drama. Three distinct knocks bet her to form sound.

A'isha wilted, stomach sinking. "One sec!" she called out, re-gripping Julie's shoulders as she mouthed out, 'That's the ninja assassin! I have to go now.' She threw a finger toward the restroom door. 'Hide in there!'

Julie's clear sorrow did nothing for A'isha's mood. She barely repressed tears as her bestie stole a quick hug, before tiptoeing into the restroom, carefully closing the door behind her.

A'isha flicked on the tap, washing her hands to imply she'd taken a whiz. "Just drying my hands." She was soon flipping the lock and lurching the door aside to reveal a familiar brunette beauty.

And an even more familiar blond pain in the butt.

Shit.

He looked a little less peeved, but still somewhat irritable. Clearly, something was heavy on his mind. She only hoped her choices weren't about to exacerbate that.

"Are we finally heading back to the table?" Ish asked, hopefully sounding convincing. She glanced at the sink over her shoulder. "Seriously, I'm so thirsty I gave thought to throwing my head under the tap and—"

A'isha hardly resisted a gasp when Mirah drove the door wide and strode inside. Marik was close in tow.

"Or… we could have a powder room party."

A'isha swore she caught Mirah glance at the restroom door, if only for a second. A part of her felt like the woman had superhuman vision and could see straight through it; that she knew they weren't alone.

Before A'isha could question why they weren't simply bidding the room a fond farewell, Marik spoke up. "Startlingly, I agree to every term outlined on your parchment."

Ish propped an eyebrow, sights shifting between the two crooks. Terms? What terms?

"That isn't startling at all, Marik." Mirah smiled wryly. "As I already said, we're alike in many ways. I knew exactly what you'd agree to."

Well, the woman was as arrogant as Marik, A'isha gave her that.

"As mentioned, I do have my own terms." Marik clasped his hands behind his back, coolly pacing about the room. "You mentioned Sahin is to join my organisation as well. I'll allow it; however, you shan't be assigned to any missions together."

Mirah simply nodded, about as cool as a cucumber. She didn't seem surprised by that condition.

Meanwhile, A'isha's forehead furrowed. Wait, so she's joining the Rare Hunters? Is she certifiably insane?!

"While I'll allow you access to our resources, including any necessary electronic devices, you'll be monitored at all times while using said devices." For a fleeting moment, Marik glanced his captive's way. "As for accommodation, Dear A'isha has just been assigned our last bedroom."

Ish cocked her head at that, noting he'd used her actual name. Mirah didn't look fazed either. Jeez, what the heck did they talk about outside?

"While two of our lounges have a sofa bed and can quite easily be converted into bedrooms for both you and Sahin, the doors won't have a lock." Marik smirked with his next statement. "And as I'm sure you can imagine, a fair few Rare Hunters have quite the grudge on you both. They may seek to regain a bit of lost pride."

Mirah snorted, clearly finding humour in the thought alone. "I'm a light sleeper, but if need be I can barricade the door. The same applies for Sahin." She twirled a loose ringlet of dark brown hair. "And if a member of your employ somehow manages to pass what will undoubtedly be a very effective barricade, they won't have a pride to regain once we're through with them."

Marik rolled his eyes. "That brings me to my final term, little Benu." He stopped pacing and glanced her way, lavender eyes narrowing. "You're not to rile up my employ, nor harm them in any way. You're task is to alleviate our workload, not aggravate it."

"Deal."

Oh gosh, Mirah even agreed to things like Marik did. That's kinda terrifying…

In that moment, the inevitable happened. Marik's attention shifted to the restroom door. She was somewhat surprised he'd taken this long to notice it was closed. His hangover and birthday must've been throwing him for a loop.

"Why is that door closed?" His voice was way too soft, only heightening A'isha's dread. He already suspected something.

"I was in there when you got here and that's why I took a while—"

"That doesn't answer my question."

Marik took two steps towards the door.

"I went number two!" Immediately, she flushed redder than a raspberry.

Marik eyed her for even the slightest change in expression as he closed all remaining distance between him and the door. He didn't look remotely repulsed. That was a bad thing. A very bad thing. "So you have no qualms about me opening it, then?"

"You really don't wanna do that," Ish warned, not even bothering to hide the desperation in her voice; it made it sound like she truly was trying to save his nose the torture, or herself the embarrassment.

"You could be lying."

"Fine. Open it then." Somehow, her voice hadn't cracked.

Finally, disgust drove Marik to hesitate. She barely contained a sigh. He glanced at the other woman in the room, who was of course grinning like an idiot, watching this unfold. "Open it, Mirah."

Rather than complying, Mirah scoffed. "I'm not your doorman, Marik." She looped her arms across her full chest. "Grow a pair and do it yourself."

Marik looked about ready to slap her. A'isha almost wished he would, perhaps cruelly so. It might have just muffled the amused snort that erupted beyond the restroom door, or the mortified gasp that quickly followed.

A'isha face-palmed harder than one had ever face-palmed before. Well, this was it. She was dead. So ridiculously dead. If only there was a coffin around, she could simply climb in of her own accord, saving everyone else the trouble. Instead, she fell victim to the second most terrifying glare to have ever crossed her captor's face; the first, she recalled, had happened the day she'd met him, when he'd stomped towards her with the dagger of the rod held high.

Like a vindictive predator eyeing its prey, Marik gnashed his pearly whites like fangs. "Open the door."

She didn't. A stupid move and she knew it. The last strings of hope held her back. Some desperate belief that the longer that door stayed shut, the better the odds of a window miraculously appearing for Julie to leap through.

"I said," Marik hissed, his voice raising a notch, "Open. The Ra-damned door."

Before A'isha could shove aside the fear to comply, the door swung open from the inside, and they were met by a sheepish grin and… jazz hands?

"Happy Birthday, Marik!"

Okay. Now she'd fallen victim to the second most terrifying glare to ever cross Marik's face. Talk about a terrible opening line.

Marik threaded his hands behind his back, sending her friend a frosty look. "So are you here to paste my stupid face so bloody hard I'll think I'm in a Quentin Tarantino movie?"

Julie looked torn between scared and impressed. "Woah… You're like an elephant's asshole." Another face-palm worthy moment. "Uhh… I- I mean because you're an asshole with the memory of an—"

"How much did A'isha tell you?"

"Ohhhh!" Julie exclaimed, peering toward her slightly trembling friend, who stood on her left and Marik's right. "So that's your name? A'isha? Well, thanks A'isha for letting me use the lady's room! I prolly woulda pissed myself if it weren't for you!" She paused, stealing a glance at Blondie. "… No? … No takers? … Bugger."

"Marik, I just heard her outside and I—"

"Did I ask you, A'isha?!"

She didn't miss the way his voice cracked as he hissed her name. For a second, she was sure she'd even caught hurt in his eyes, and thought she tasted bile in her throat.

"Please just—"

"Be silent, little Ish." He seemed to have regained his composure with that order.

Julie arched a brow, the corners of her lips curling upward. "Little Ish? Really? A'isha, I thought only I could give you swanky rapper names?"

"And I thought Amara was infuriating," Marik growled, earning an offended gasp from the Brit.

"Did he just compare me to—?" Julie hurled him a glower. "Sheesh! You're right, Ish. He is an asshole!"

Marik stepped between the two girls, entering Julie's entire vision. "Answer my question."

"Let Ish and Mar go."

Marik laughed. "You're in no position to bargain, little Julie."

"I prefer Lil' Jules, to be honest." That earned a muffled chuckle from the other Englishwoman in the room. "See, it sounds more rapper-esque with the single syllabled Jul—"

"My patience was dwindling long before you entered the picture, Julie." The girl's already pale skin drained of any remaining colour when he smoothly withdrew the Millennium Rod from his belt. He sneered at her silence. "I see Dear A'isha mentioned my Millennium Item. I—"

"Can you not call her Dear A'isha. It's really creep—"

A tanned hand looped around her wrist, catching that word in her throat as he lurched her to his chest, the wing of the rod pressed firmly to her neck.

"Ow!"

A'isha took two steps forward till his gaze snapped her way, pinning her instantly. Her breath hitched as she glimpsed a drop of crimson making a steady descent down Julie's neck.

"Agh!" The Brit shot a scowl up at the sneering blond, but she didn't struggle, likely to avoid the wing digging further into the cut. "Prick!"

"Be thankful a prick is all it was."

"I meant you, ya bloody tosspot!"

A'isha winced, painfully aware that Marik loved his stupid pride, especially with Mirah around. She didn't want him endeavouring to keep up appearances now, toward her fiery friend. "Julie, stop it," she warned, dead serious.

Julie listened.

And of course, Marik's sneer gave way to a haughty laugh. "Perhaps I was mistaken to think you were anything like A'isha's weakling cousin."

Ish wrung her fists as he released Julie far rougher than necessary.

"I suppose," Marik continued, "that's to be expected, given how close you are to my dear captive."

A'isha just knew he'd stressed those last two words to rub her crappy circumstances in Julie's face. It worked too, if the furious glare the girl shot his way was anything to go by.

"Do you know what inmates do to the pretty boys in prison?" Julie snarled, forgetting A'isha's advice in a tick. Again, Mirah was in the background, pressing her lips to avoid another snicker. A'isha, on the other hand, was cringing harder with each passing second. "If you don't, no matter; you'll find out when Ahad tracks you down and throws your particularly sorry ass in jail—"

One fleeting flash from Marik's magic stick and Julie slumped to the marble floor.

A'isha eyes shot wide, exposing her horror. "JULIE!" she screamed, darting to her side in two seconds flat, her knees greeting the floor. Her glossy eyes bore into her captor. "You sent her soul to the shadows?! How could you—"

"I did no such thing," Marik sliced through her words, deceivingly calm as he traced his thumb along the artefact's ominous eye. "I merely knocked her out. Her mind is still intact, though her short-term memories have been eradicated, ensuring the girl retains nothing you've told her."

A'isha blinked back her tears, gazing at the motionless girl. "So she… she won't remember I was—?"

"No."

"Why didn't you do that to me instead of—"

Marik glared down at her, any gentleness gone from his stony visage. "By the time I learned of Michaes' foolish slip of the tongue, it was already too late. The memory was no longer short-term." He returned the rod to his dark brown belt, straightening his suit coat soon after. "Now get up. We're leaving."

A muscle in her jaw twitched. "Are you kidding me?" she shrieked, grimacing at the girl splayed before her like a ragdoll. "I'm not just gonna leave her here on the friggin' floor for some other creep to find—!" She seized up at a sudden, gentle grip on her shoulder, her first thought being that Marik planned on dragging her out of the room. Instead, Mirah's strangely soft voice had her slackening.

"I saw Julie's table earlier this evening." She felt a squeeze on her shoulder. "I'll advise the staff that she fainted and ensure they know who her family is." Another squeeze. "She'll be okay, I assure you."

"Now hurry up", she tensed all over again, Marik's voice like ice, "before the girl's family think to find out why she's taking so long."

A'isha gave thought to taking her sweet time, increasing the odds of that very scenario taking place. Alas, she knew better than to push him. He was already furious.

She'd barely found her feet when Marik barked another order, this time at Mirah.

"Ensure they have nothing on their person from the other."

A'isha gaped at the blond. "Are you serious?" The thorough jerk.

She watched as Mirah withdrew a sleek, compact camera from the leather bag slung over her broad shoulder. Rather than patting down her fellow females, she smoothly skimmed the device over them. Must've had some sort of fancy X-ray vision camera lens.

"Both girls are fine." Mirah slid the camera back into her bag, glancing at Julie. "I'll deal with that wound on her neck. It's so miniscule I doubt it'll keep bleeding, but any blood we leave will only draw attention to it."

While Mirah tended to Julie, Marik ducked out with A'isha, his arm coiled around her waist. His grip was tight, yet his touch was what truly had her biting back bile.

Of course, he avoided the dining area, instead leading her out to the parking lot. She was sure he'd spent every last ounce of self-control fighting the urge to drag her through the posh restaurant. That didn't stop him from seizing her shoulders, forcing her to sit on the two-seater slab of chestnut wood near the entrance.

She hated the way she shivered, and how she struggled to blame it on the slight, chilling breeze that whistled through the evening air.

Marik stared out at the parking lot, his mouth set in a hard line. He didn't even bother to look at her when he eventually snarled, "You're still kidnapped."

As if she needed the damn reminder. Seriously? Did he really expect her to accept that fact? To just see how things panned out, hoping he wasn't spouting lies when saying she'd one day be freed? Her bestie had basically shown up on a silver platter, her chance to turn the tides and steer Ahad their way.

"What did you expect me to do?!" she barked, her eyes shooting sparks. "She was right there!"

For some reason, her anger only tripled when he refused to make eye contact, yet she managed to hold her tongue after that. So did he, instead sending a scowl at anything but her. The material of his suit creased as he crossed his arms, and the vibrant orange of her dress seemed dull in the darkness as she toyed with the smooth cloth, gazing at her grey flats. Only Mirah's arrival ceased the smothering silence.

"Julie's safe and Salim's still smoking like a bloody choo choo train." A'isha glanced up to find her smiling slyly. "Good thing I bugged his suit. Can't wait to hear the wanker's little temper tantrum when he realises his designated driver ditched him. And for The R.H., no less."

Marik ignored his newest employee. Instead, he wordlessly reached for A'isha's elbow, his hand roughly coiling around it. She nearly lost her flats as he yanked her to her feet, shoving her towards three nearby steps that led to the parking lot.

"Move," was all he said, releasing her.

His temper, something she'd certainly endured before now, was the only reason she swallowed her pride. Her body shook as she stumbled down the small steps, and of course lost her damn footing on the third. Thankfully, Mirah quickly gripped her shoulders, steadying her. The brunette leaned close, amusement playing in her voice.

"You sure got his tie in a twist," she whispered, her slender hands leaving A'isha's shoulders. "A woman after my own heart."

The younger girl said nothing, sensing two lavender irises drilling into her back. His steps were loud and deliberate, awfully out of sync with her own as they echoed through the parking lot.

Marik's rented, black sedan was six cars away when she heard his steps slow, then stop completely. She glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed his sleek, black flip phone in his grasp, buzzing slightly. In one fluid motion, he flicked open the device.

"Speak, slave."

The belittling way Marik addressed his employees, creeps or not, only rattled her further. Typical jerk, demeaning everyone and everything around him. Dude would probably talk down a fire hydrant if he thought it looked at him funny.

A'isha squinted a little, like that would miraculously heighten her sense of sound. She couldn't even begin to decipher the muffled, incoherent gabble that sputtered through the line, but they sounded terrified. Absolutely terrified.

"Stop stuttering, you ignoramus."

A'isha spared a glance at the newest addition of Marik's now-not-so-manly harem. Mirah was deathly still, two cautious eyes on her new boss. Did Mirah know something she didn't? Or did she just have some mad ninja senses that were tingling?

"Spit it out, Lumis."

More stuttering. Then silence. A long, agonisingly painful silence. A toxic air suddenly descended upon the trio; a sickening, choking sort of air that had A'isha trembling in an instant. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"She what?"

Only then did she wish the ground would turn to quicksand and swallow her whole.

If he wasn't staring her down, A'isha would've thought Mirah had somehow screwed him over. But no. No no no no no. Whatever had him completely and utterly pissed, it involved her.

All she wanted to do in that moment was sprint as far away from Marik as alienly possible. To her dismay, she could move no more than she could fly. Terror had her drilled in place, confined to her quivering body.

Marik snapped the phone shut, his grip so firm his knuckles were white. His body was taut, screaming at her. His face was dangerously still, his eyes colder than ice, harder than diamond, yet somehow ablaze with charring ferocity.

"How dare you…" His voice was soft. Horribly, chillingly soft. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Her instincts threw her arms over her head as something black flew her way. Pain never came. She peeked between her arms, sweat beading on her brow. Like some sort of crazy ninja, Mirah had plucked Marik's cell phone right out of the air. A'isha hardly heard her own sigh of relief, her eyes bouncing between the fuming blond and the simpering brunette. What the freaking hell did she do to piss him off?! She didn't understand. She just didn't.

"Didn't mommy ever teach you not to throw your toys?" Mirah pressed.

A'isha couldn't decide if she should be astonished, appalled or utterly horrified. Didn't the woman know his mother was dead, let alone how she died? Was she really poking the proverbial bear that was Mr Undignified and Pissed?

A'isha gulped as his lips drew back in a snarl. "Step. Aside." The order had been delivered with disturbing precision, so deliberate he could only be seeing red.

"Not a chance, Blondie."

Before A'isha could even process, Mirah had Marik pinned against the nearest car, a black sedan she hoped was empty; awkward wouldn't even start to cover it, should the car be occupied.

"Release me, Mirah." Marik sent his newest employee the dirtiest look A'isha had ever seen, and her trembling only tripled as she realised it wasn't meant for Mirah. "I'll only repeat myself once." His eyes narrowed to slits on the arm that had him pinned, before they slowly travelled up to meet Mirah's unwavering gaze. "Release. Me."

"So you can beat her to the brink of death?"

"How I choose to discipline my captives is of no concern to you."

At those words, so uncaring and vile, A'isha found the ground immensely interesting. Her fists wrung at her sides, a whirlwind of emotions slicing her dishevelled mind to shreds. Terror. Fury. Confusion. Anxiety. And something else… something she just couldn't put her finger on.

But oh God, did he seriously plan on… on murdering her? Why?! What could she have possibly done to peeve him off? This must've been some sort of mistake. Or maybe he was messing with her. Was this a test for Mirah? Was he just testing Mirah's loyalty to him or something? Or was that wishful thinking?

Something told her it was.

What the hell do you expect? He's the leader of a massive criminal organisation and you're freaking surprised?!

Had she really been crazy enough to think he gave a crap about her? That he'd meant it when he'd claimed he cared last night? Did she really think that kiss had meant anything to him? That it wasn't simply fuelled by drunken curiosity?

He was a liar. A stinking, despicable liar. She was merely another pawn in some crazy scheme that was way beyond her. To him, she was pathetic, feeble, expendable, nothing.

Only then did she identify that final emotion.

Betrayal.

It made her sick that he could even make her feel it.

Betrayal implied caring. It implied emotional attachment. It implied she gave a damn about him.

In that moment, A'isha realised that the worst part was that she did care about him. Far more than she should. And it made her sick. Absolutely sick.

"Marik," Mirah murmured, as soft as she'd sounded back in the powder room. "If you hurt her, you'll be no better than my father."

And your own, A'isha caught herself thinking. Thankfully her brain was still functioning well enough to not voice that thought. Or maybe that was just the fear not talking.

"Stop me, Dear Mirah, and narrow the odds of ever seeing your precious mother again."

They were taunting each other, Marik daring the woman to tip him over the edge of calm fury and into mindless rage. Though Marik's threat about Mirah seeing her mother again—A'isha had no clue what that meant. Maybe that had something to do with why the woman was ditching one creep for another. Was that a prerequisite of being an influential criminal? Mummy and daddy issues?

The two wilful teens stared each other down, not even blinking. She briefly wondered what was running through their minds. Or perhaps she didn't want to know. Whatever was going through Marik's, she was sure it would only make her feel ten million times worse. Mirah, however, seemed so calm she could've given a cucumber a run for its money.

Mirah didn't move an inch, refusing to release him. "Might I suggest we address this little kerfuffle on your ship," she proposed, her voice firm, "before my father realises his most prized possession has done a runner?"

At first, Marik didn't answer. Probably wrestling with his pride. "Very well," he finally said, his voice tight. "However, given this 'little kerfuffle' doesn't concern you, I'd like to establish now that you won't be present for its… resolution. When we reach my vessel, five Rare Hunters will be ready to escort you to your room." His eyes narrowed. "Is that clear?"

"Clear as mud," Mirah muttered, yet didn't move an inch, "but I'm driving."

A dry laugh croaked in his throat. "I believe you have our roles reversed, little Benu. I'm the one in command here and I will not tolerate—"

"You're not driving, Marik." This time it was A'isha who spoke, her speech as firm and resolute as her face.

At first, Marik was dumbstruck. Any shock was soon swept away by derision, wrinkles forming around his eyes as they pierced her own. "Clearly, I've become too lenient with you, girl," he hissed through clenched teeth, "and it would appear that a little lesson in respect is required." A cruel smirk snaked across his lips. "No matter, you'll learn very soon that your place is at my feet."

A'isha refused to back down, her shoulders squared as her eyes blazed with determination. That didn't stop a hint of sorrow from seeping into her gaze as she took in the malice that marred his own. "My parents died at the hands of a reckless driver!" she growled, her fists curling at her sides, "and I'll be damned if I let you behind that friggin' wheel to ruin more lives that sure as hell don't deserve it!"

"I'm perfectly capable of operating a Ra-damned vehicle!"

"Into a fucking ditch!"

Had Marik not been pinned by his employee, he and A'isha would've surely been at each other's throats. Instead, he twisted and turned, grunting as he struggled to break free. "Release me, Mirah!" He stopped to shoot her a glare. "I won't say it again!"

"Marik," the brunette drawled, calm as anything. "Vos scitis verum est."

Initially, Marik continued to squirm, not registering the phrase. Then, he stilled and stared at her.

"Nolite fieri imprudentes," Mirah continued, meriting an eyebrow raise from A'isha. Was that… Latin?

It was ten seconds feeling like that many minutes. He seemed a smidge calmer, so still certifiably pissed, when a stiff reply left his lips.

"Callide."

Without a word, Mirah unpinned him, taking three silent steps back.

Of course, the first thing he did was straighten out his jacket with a rough, aggressive flick. After one readjustment of his plum purple tie, Marik scowled A'isha's way. Not one of those petulant, adolescent scowls either. No, this was more like stifled fury. She knew, despite his seemingly calm exterior right now, the guy had hardly calmed his farm.

To her immense relief, a quiet clear of Mirah's throat averted his attention to the slender hand she'd held out. "The keys, Sir?"

A'isha wasn't at all surprised by the three seconds he spent wrestling with his pride, before withdrawing the keys from his inner coat pocket. A sliver of tension left her body as he reluctantly handed them over to Mirah; though sadly, she was still about as tense as a cat out at sea.

That tension only tripled as Marik honed in on her, his eyes narrowed coldly. She hated how she flinched as his hand gripped her elbow, his skin a shade darker than her own. "Move," he barked, basically dragging her toward his black sedan, six cars along. Thank goodness her legs were as long as his or she would've faceplanted instantly.

Six shoves later and half way to the car, she quite literally put her foot down, nearly loosing a grey flat in the process. "For fucks sake!" she snapped, somehow jerking her arm free without dislocating her elbow. "I think I get it—!"

Marik gripped her wrists, wrenching her against him. Her hands were quickly draining of their colour. "Not yet, you don't," he hissed in her ear, "but you will once we reach my ship. I'll make sure of that." His lips quirked up as she struggled in his hold, throwing fists to his chest and feet to his legs. Each attempt at freeing herself was for naught.

So she headbutted him.

The smirk vanished instantly.

An anguished grunt tore through their lips, their hands smacking their pulsing foreheads. Marik recovered a second earlier than his assailant, his anger flaring as pain and fury clouded his amethyst vision.

A'isha caught a blur of brown, then a searing sting, throbbing and spreading across her left cheek. Chips of rock bit her fingers as they slapped against concrete, the shrill tear of silk slicing through the air; crimson liquid seeped from her knee to soak a shredded section of her dress.

Marik had backhanded her.

And although it wasn't a first, this time had definitely hurt more.

Much, much more.

Before she could show any reaction bar shock, Mirah was between them. "I think she gets it, Marik," she stated gravely, her black-clad arms thrown wide like wings. "Now might I suggest we stop making a scene and instead make ourselves scarce before Salim shows up?"

Silence was her only answer.

"Good."

The clack of heels growing louder had A'isha looking up. A hand had been extended to her, lean and feminine, a few small scars speckled across the fingertips. Mirah said nothing, though she did manage a smile. The pity it possessed wasn't lost to A'isha.

Accepting the hand offered to her, the younger girl stumbled to her feet, wincing. Without even thinking, she gripped her stinging knee, warm liquid oozing between her fingers. She refused to meet Marik's gaze, sure she'd been torn between tears and the desire to absolutely strangle him.

"I suppose that'll be tended to back on the boat," Mirah voiced, sparing the bloody gash a two-second glance.

"Yeah, I—" One step and A'isha sucked air through her teeth, more out of shock than pain. She was limping. Splendid. Just splendid. "I'm really gonna enjoy ripping this stupid fucking dress apart for makeshift gauze."

Mirah scoffed in amusement, offering a literal shoulder for the girl to lean on. She led her to the car, a silently fuming Marik mere steps behind them.

A'isha had no clue what awaited her on his ship or what the hell he'd been told on that phone call, but she did know one thing…

The drive there was going to be absolute torture.


Ataahua and DH AN: Sorry, not sorry for the cliffhanger. Let us know what you think is gonna happen next, and what you think the call was about. We'd love to know your thoughts! ;D