Chapter Two: The Kidnapping

A'isha trembled, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Rare Hunters. They'd emerged from the warehouses of Alexandria Port, their dark purple cloaks thrashing in the wind as they circled her car like stalking hyenas.

She slammed her foot on the gas.

CRUNCH!

Her eyes shot to the front passenger seat. Marik. The R.H. He'd yanked up the handbrake, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "You're not getting away this time," he promised.

Vile memories swarmed her mind; Gavin pinning her down, the sickening feel of his clammy hands, the chilling echo of his laughter as she struggled—

"I suppose this evokes some rather unpleasant memories," Marik said with a cock of his brow. The bastard would know, wouldn't he? He'd told his Rare Hunters to mug her. Now, he'd manipulated her like a puppeteer, and not only was he enjoying every second of this, but she still didn't know what he wanted. All she knew was she'd gone against her intuition again. He wasn't some arrogant, flirty nobody. He was the infamous leader of the Rare Hunters, topping Ahad's most wanted list—a bona fide crime boss.

She had to escape, but how? Marik and his Rare Hunters could easily overpower her and Amara—

Shit, Amara!

A'isha turned to her cousin in the backseat, expecting pure terror.

"You don't look so good, Ish," Amara and Marik said in unison. The same words, inflections, even his smirk. What the hell had he done to her?

A'isha glared at him, her breathing coming in quick, shallow bursts. He'd cornered her. She couldn't drive off. She couldn't fight her way out. And from chats with Ahad, she'd pegged The R.H. as someone cunning enough to rival Iago from Othello, so outsmarting him seemed like a high-stakes gamble. But maybe, just maybe, he could be reasoned with.

Before anything else, she locked the car doors. It earned an amused huff from him, but at least it might slow down his Rare Hunters. "You already got your deck," she said in forced calmness. "What else could you possibly want from me?"

"Not what you fear I want, I assure you." And yet the perv's wandering eyes were anything but subtle.

"You're dancing around the question!" Keep calm, she reminded herself. He didn't need another advantage.

Marik laughed. "As head of your school's dance troupe, I imagine you don't enjoy me dancing circles around you." What the hell? He knew way too much about her! "I'll tell you what, Ish," he carried on, and crime boss or not, it took everything in her not to snap at him. Only family and close friends used that nickname. "Humour me by answering a question of mine and I'll answer yours in turn."

As if she hadn't humoured him enough. "Ask your question."

He gripped her headrest, leaning in close to invade her personal bubble, and her heartbeat stuttered in protest. "What's my name?"

The penny dropped. Her uncle, the Superintendent Detective, wanted him captured or killed. She knew his real name. And now his face. Oh shit. Oh fuck. She knew his face! Her back hit the car door, her hand beelining for its handle. She was a loose end. She needed to escape. But his Rare Hunters were outside—

"Well?" Marik pressed, his eyes following her hand as it retreated to her lap. "It's a simple question. What's my name?"

Doing this over his name. The nonchalance over revealing his face. He didn't plan to let them go. Did that mean… Oh God, was he planning to kill her? To kill Amara? She had to get them out of this. Fast! "I haven't told anyone, I swear!" The words tumbled from her lips. "I didn't even realise I'd heard your name until— until—" Until his Rare Hunters had surrounded her car, throwing her back into the thick of that night.

"You still haven't answered my question." Maybe because that seemed like signing her own death certificate. "Go on, Ish." His voice turned low and unmistakably suggestive as he leaned in closer. "Say my name."

In an anger-driven blur, she shoved him out of her face. "It ends in 'ick' and that doesn't even start to cover how much you repulse me!"

As his brows shot up, he flashed a wide smirk. "My, oh my, I'm going to enjoy cracking you."

SMASH!

Glass scattered over her shoulder. She spun in her seat to find a pale hand reaching through the shattered window. The lock! She tried to swat the hand away— Too late. The pale Rare Hunter flung the door open and ripped her out of the car. She screamed and thrashed, her back hitting his gut, but he threw his arm around her neck. The start of a headlock. He was trying to knock her out. Her mind flashed back to the self-defence moves Ahad had taught her since the mugging. She knew them. She just had to focus.

Focus.

Tucking her chin in, A'isha grabbed the pale Rare Hunter's forearm, stepped a foot back between his legs and spun out of the hold, pushing off his chest to stumble free. Yes! A bearded Rare Hunter lunged at her, but she jerked back just in time and he swiped only air.

Then she saw Amara—and her stomach dropped. Her cousin stood beside a lanky Rare Hunter, her wrists held out for the rope in his hands. This couldn't be real. She was dreaming. She had to be.

Hands shoved A'isha forward. Slammed her against the street. A knee buried itself in her back, shooting pain up her spine. They bound her wrists behind her, even as she squirmed, struggled, unleashed a scream, praying someone would hear, someone would help—

A thick rag cut her off, tasting bitterly of grease, and hands swooped in to shove duct tape over her mouth. The rag swallowed another scream—her hope. No one could hear her. They were alone, about to be murdered, and it was all her fault. She should've been smarter. She should've been better. She… She couldn't breathe…

She couldn't breathe!

Her chest heaved, heaved, heaved. Her lungs— So tight. Her head… It hurt… No air…

With a sudden sting across her lips, the tape disappeared and she spat out the rag, gasping to fill her lungs. She could breathe. She was dizzy, so dizzy, but she could breathe. She drew in air, in and out.

Then everything blurred back into focus. Alexandria Port. The Rare Hunters. And Marik right in front of her, duct tape pinched between his fingers. "Can't have you dying on us, can we? Disposing of you here would be so inconvenient."

She hated him. No, she despised him. And though she couldn't stop fucking shaking, that thought must've been all over her face, considering his full-blown grin.

He placed a disgusting finger to her lips, his skin unfittingly warm and his touch feather-light. "Unless hyperventilating is a favoured pastime of yours, I suggest you be a good girl and stay silent for me."

Silent. Like Amara. Her cousin just stood there, staring at nothing, her wrists still bound. The wind whipped through her fringe, exposing her forehead and the glowing shape upon it… an Ancient Egyptian eye. It matched the symbol on the sceptre Marik had tucked back under his belt. That couldn't be a coincidence.

"Insightful, aren't you?" Marik withdrew the sceptre, and sunlight glinted off it as he raised it to eye level, his thumb brushing lightly, almost affectionately, against one of its bat-like wings. "This, Dear A'isha, is my Millennium Rod. It grants me the power to make anyone my loyal puppet."

His loyal puppet? He couldn't possibly mean—

"Allow me to demonstrate." He nodded once at the lanky Rare Hunter, who promptly unbound Amara's wrists. "Bring me A'isha's keys, girl."

Without hesitation, Amara retrieved them from the car and just… just blankly handed him their best shot at a quick getaway.

"Now tell me, what's one thing A'isha would hate for a stranger to know?"

"She wet the bed until she was seven."

The Rare Hunters laughed amongst themselves, but A'isha couldn't bring herself to care. She had more pressing matters at hand than a mildly embarrassing ten-year-old secret and the opinions of criminals. But surprisingly, Marik himself hadn't laughed. He merely squinted at her, and with the power of hindsight, she recognised that look; the same one he'd worn when she'd demanded he get out of the car—like he'd been presented with a problem that needed solving.

"Curious," he said after a time. "Were you abused as a child?"

A pang shot through her chest, but she forced a sweet smile. "Why? Hoping to find common ground between us?"

She swore his smirk twitched.

But one blink later and his cocky demeanour returned, as if she'd imagined it momentarily crack. "You'll enjoy this, Ish," he carried on, and she tried to ready herself for the opposite. "Amara, be a good mind slave and humour us all with the chicken dance."

Her cousin did just that, earning laughs all around, and Marik looked way too pleased with himself as he watched the damn show. This was insane. Outlandishly crazy. Too despicable to be true. But the proof was insurmountable. Amara had acted off since his arrival. Everything she'd done had worked in his favour. That gold eye, again hidden by Amara's fringe, was just like the one on that rod. And they'd literally said the same thing in the same way at the same time!

Was Amara aware and watching helplessly as he subjected her to his every whim? Was she silently begging for A'isha to save her? Was she frightened? Was she hurting? Her baby cousin…

"Stop it!" A'isha choked, her vision blurring. He was sick! A sick, twisted psychopath. "She's a human, not your fucking puppet! Let her go—"

The bearded Rare Hunter forced the rag back into her mouth. More duct tape followed. A'isha coughed and spluttered, the bitter taste of grease again clinging to her tongue, and this time, she tried to think about her breathing. Through the nose, through the nose…

"Come now, Ish. Your cousin's much more tolerable this way, wouldn't you agree?" Marik threw her a smug wink.

A'isha could only glower at him through eyes blurred by unshed tears.

With a chuckle, he gripped her chin and brought his face so close his breaths mingled with hers. "As you can see, your cousin's every action is mine to sway, and if I wished it, your actions too could cede to my every whim." His eyes pored over her face. "As it stands, your cognisance is far more amusing than your blind obedience. For now." He released her chin roughly, stepping away. "As for little Amara, her usefulness is spent."

The gag stilled A'isha's scream as Amara collapsed, though the lanky Rare Hunter caught her cousin before the concrete, and slung her limp body over his shoulder. She wasn't moving. No. No! Was she breathing? Oh God, had Marik—

"Her current state is no cause for concern," Marik cut in with a flippant wave of his hand. "Once she comes to, she'll again be the bumbling brat you know and tolerate."

A weak groan slid through Amara's lips, and only then did A'isha slacken.

"In fact," he continued, "she'll likely recall nothing beyond my knock on your front door."

A'isha went ramrod straight at that, hope sparking within her. If Amara wouldn't remember him, there was no risk in letting her go free. She stared at Marik, her eyes wide and pleading, her desperate moans muffled by the gag. Remove the gag! Please remove it!

Marik stared down his nose at her. "You wish to speak? I don't think so, girl. You'd waste your breath begging me to let your cousin go. If you used your brain as opposed to your emotions, you'd know that ship has sailed. Besides"—he ignored her as she thrashed around in protest—"if you're so desperate to ensure her safety, all the more reason to keep her around, don't you think?"

Dread rushed through her. No, she needed to save Amara! To get her back home and out of harm's way—

Bzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzz!

Her phone! She felt it vibrating. Was someone trying to find them? Shit, could anyone else hear it?

Marik took a step toward her, a mere arm's length between them. Then he took one more, daring to steal her air, and hope died stillborn in her chest. "You won't mind if I just…" The creep snaked his arm around her, his body pressed to hers in what might've been a tender caress in some less sickening universe. He lifted her phone from her back pocket and took his sweet time stepping away. "Mr Sunny Disposition? How touching."

Nausea hit her. It was Dani, her ex. She tried to force a noise of protest around the gag, but Marik had already answered the call.

"This is A'isha's phone." He said it with enough arrogance to form a one-man political party. "Her mouth's preoccupied right now, but perhaps she'll be in touch once she's free. Until then, I eagerly anticipate having her all to myself now that you're out of the picture."

Anger swelled within her. How dare he! How dare that sick perv imply— She yanked and yanked futilely against her bindings, picturing her hands around his shiny, gold-smothered neck. If he tried to touch her, she'd kill him. And if he tried to touch Amara, she'd make sure she killed him slowly.

Marik ended the call, rolling his eyes at her. "You jump to conclusions. I'm The R.H., not some simple-minded savage with no restraint." He handed both her phone and her keys to the nearest Rare Hunter. "We'll take the car. Dispose of the phone. Discreetly, lest you wish to be disposed of yourself." As the Rare Hunter bowed at him (seriously?) and scrambled off, Marik turned back to her. "As your captain, it'd be poor form to not personally see you to your room, and I certainly don't wish to be rude." The bastard chuckled like he'd just cracked a great joke. Yes. Ha ha! Because stealing, blackmailing and kidnapping were all polite things to fill one's time with. There were people who didn't know right from wrong and then there were people like him, who did know but chose wrong anyway. They were the worst!

Another Rare Hunter stepped forward, an empty sack in his hands. She'd watched enough crime shows to know what happened next. Two Rare Hunters held her still, and though she struggled, she was nowhere near strong enough to fend them off. Darkness. The sack scratched her cheeks, Marik barked orders, and two sets of hands pulled her toward an unknown destination.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know I did. I know Marik did. Can't the same for A'isha. Reviews welcomed - I'd love to know your thoughts so far 😊