Lut Gaye || لٹ گۓ

TWENTY SEVEN | The Dark Side

"dil ka sauda hua chandni raat mein."

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ZAIN had made plenty of enemies throughout his career as a cop.

The terrorists he had fought, influential big shots he had detained, and the criminals he had befriended and betrayed for the sake of his mission―he had seen the look of contempt in their bloodthirsty eyes for him but for some reason, he hadn't felt the same level of resentment for any of them.

Tonight, however, he felt like things were going to change.

Because never in his life had he felt such utter, all-consuming hatred for anyone as he did at that moment for the man clad in white standing before him.

Hatred.

It was opaque red and flaring and viscous―like the blood darting through his veins.

He had left all his work and had driven to the party because he knew she must've been waiting for him and he couldn't stop missing her either but the moment he entered inside, he was met with a sight that had gotten on every single nerve in his body.

"This party was doing just fine without you," Haider remarked, raking the man in leather grey with open disdain.

And then he tilted his head to the side and directed his attention to Iman―her frame half-eclipsed by the towering figure of that damn cop who stood in their way. "Don't you agree, Iman?"

Zain's jaw ticked in veritable rage.

"Iman, yahan se jao," he commanded in a low, clipped voice.

She flinched behind him. "Zain-"

"Please."

He didn't turn around to face her but the sideway glance he regarded her with and the iciness fringing his imploration conveyed that he wanted her to immediately put it into effect.

So, Iman bit the side of her lip and decided to comply because she couldn't deal with Haider anyway―she had never been able to in the past.

As she swerved around and traipsed away from the two of them, Zain saw how that scumbag's dark gaze tailed her moving silhouette.

"Eyes off my wife," he vocalised slowly, each word keen-edged and slicing.

Zain could not bear that look and the longer he disregarded his warning and kept his eyes hooked to her like a hunter, the more his composure shrank and his temper soared.

Before he could lose it completely―the man in white turned his head.

Against all his wishes, Haider unfastened his gaze from the woman who was both, a balm and a blight to his weathered heart, and let his onyx irises fall upon the cop standing before him with a spark of barely-restrained anger on his face.

Like an arsonist, he decided to pour some gasoline on his fury and start a fire.

"Kya karoon? Aankhen majboor hain."

"Aankhen nikal loonga main tumhari!" the lawman snarled, his glare turning lethal.

"I would like to see you try," Haider stated with a challenge in his voice, standing ramrod straight, unaffected.

"I shouldn't have let you out of the jail." Bitter regret filled his chest and leaked into his tone. "I shouldn't have gone easy on you."

"If you think a measly police officer like you could keep me behind bars then you are truly living in a fool's paradise, Awan." Haider swept his hands inside his pockets and looked down his aristocratic nose.