Taylan

She was running at full speed, her mouth wide open as she sprinted blindly through the night. Her shoulder-length hair was disheveled, whipping across her face with every gust of wind. She wore nothing but a thin, white nightgown that barely reached her knees. 

No shoes on her feet, no extra layers for warmth—there had been no time for such things. The moment that vile man leaned in to tear at her body, she drove the hidden dinner fork deep into his thigh. There was no time to think, no time to catch her breath. She quickly jumped through the window and began descending the steep hillside. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, but she couldn’t focus on anything except running faster.

She hadn’t swallowed a morsel since the day before, and little did she know this moment would come, or she might have eaten something to keep her strength up. Suddenly, she came to a halt, her sprint interrupted as her breath became labored. The cold pierced her bones, chilling her to the core. With her hands resting on her waist, she stood still, trying to catch her breath while scanning her surroundings. In the rush of running, she hadn’t felt it, but now the biting cold coursing through her veins was impossible to ignore. She ran her tongue over her parched lips and rubbed her bare shoulders, attempting in vain to ward off the freezing sensation.

The darkness around her was so thick that even with her eyes wide open, she could barely see beyond a few feet. Standing in the middle of the rough, unpaved road like a madwoman, she desperately tried to find some sign of shelter, but there was none in sight. With shadows of fear in her heart and a blanket of cold draped over her body, the girl looked utterly helpless. Exhausted, weakened by hunger and thirst, she had no idea where to go or what to do next. For a moment, she glanced at her trembling hands, which wouldn’t stop shaking. Thick clouds had covered the moon, leaving her completely alone in the darkness. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed in the distance. Her heart raced uncontrollably. She frantically searched for a place to hide, but there was only rocky ground and the looming shadows of the forest around her. She knew that if she stayed there, she would be caught. Panic surged through her, and she began to run again, but this time her steps were faltering. Each one felt heavier than the last, but the desperation to survive pushed her forward.

The footsteps grew louder, closer, as if someone was right behind her. She collapsed to the ground, kneeling with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Closing her eyes, she whispered a silent prayer, hoping for a miracle that would save her from whatever was coming.

In the village of Lavya, deep in China, there were more fields than houses. The few homes that existed were small, coop-like structures made of wood and bamboo. She had likely stumbled into one of Lavya’s fields during her frantic escape.

In two days, she had only managed to learn the name of the place—nothing about the roads. All she remembered was that Lee Hao had brought her here by boat, and there was only one paved road in the village. In two days, she had only managed to learn the name of the place—nothing about the roads. All she remembered was that Lee Hao had brought her here by boat, and there was only one paved road in the village. She knew she had to reach that road at all costs.

After taking a few moments to catch her breath, she started running again. She had escaped with her dignity intact, but she wasn’t sure if she could survive the freezing cold that seemed to seep into her bones. Her bare feet slowed her down, and every step was a painful reminder of her vulnerability. Suddenly, she realized the soft earth beneath her feet had turned into solid pavement. A flicker of hope lit up her heart—maybe she had a chance. Maybe she could save herself.

She hadn’t gone far on the road when the headlights of a fast-approaching car illuminated the darkness. The vehicle was speeding towards her. She squinted back at the blinding lights, her body freezing with fear before she sprinted again. She had never learned how to give up. But her foot slipped, and she fell hard. Her bare legs and knees scraped brutally against the rough asphalt, and a piercing scream tore from her throat. Dizzy from pain and exhaustion, she barely registered the car screeching to a stop next to her. The door flung open with a violent thud.

“Get that bitch!” Lee Hao’s vile voice echoed in the night. A second man rushed toward her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her up. He was a large, muscular brute with long hair, his face twisted into something monstrous.

“Where do you think you were going?” he sneered in broken Urdu, laughing wickedly. “Let me go! Please, I don’t want to do this!” she screamed, her mind splintering at the thought of the horrors that awaited her.

Her desperate cries were met with cruel laughter. The second man jerked her head back, her neck straining as her face was forced upward, veins bulging, staring helplessly at the sky. He brought his foul mouth close to her face and hissed, “Running now, you filthy girl?” Lee Hao stepped closer, shoving her to the ground again. He started kicking her in the stomach, over and over. She screamed like a slaughtered animal, but he didn’t stop. He kept kicking her, yelling, “Run now! Run!” Her screams eventually faded into silence as she lost consciousness, but it seemed no one was there to hear her—except for the two monsters standing over her.

She slowly began to regain consciousness, her head spinning as fragments of memory started piecing themselves together. As her vision cleared, she realized with horror that she had been brought back to the very place she had tried to escape from. From the next room, she could hear Lee Hao’s voice, sharp and angry.

“I’m not keeping her here any longer. The little rat has tried to run away twice, and she’s not even that pretty. We might have to sell off her organs,” Lee Hao muttered coldly. “It’s not about the face, it’s the body that counts. We’ll just use her for business,” the other man replied.

After that, they continued arguing in their native language. With the little Chinese she had picked up, she managed to understand enough: Lee Hao wanted to sell her in the city, where human organs were harvested and sold on the black market. A wave of terror shot through her body, paralyzing her.

The pain surged again, overwhelming her senses, and soon, she drifted back into unconsciousness.

__________________________________________

The night in Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, was more breathtaking than the day itself. In this beautiful part of America, the grand ‘Mirran Villa’ shimmered like crystal under the night sky, its elegance elevated to another level this evening.

The long driveway was lined with luxury cars, each more impressive than the last. Even at midnight, Mirran Villa was alive as if it were the middle of the day. The glittering lights, sparkling high-end attire, and the soft, melodious music created an enchanting atmosphere. The tables were laden with an array of delicious foods, the tantalizing aromas mixing with the scent of expensive colognes, making the ambiance even more intoxicating. The scene was a flood of beauty and charm, and amidst it all, Tehmina Mugheri stood out in her sleek black gown. Known in Beverly Hills as Tina Mugheri, she was the star of the night. Even at 44, her flawless complexion, accentuated by meticulous makeup and adornments, made her the life of the party.

Beside her was Sikandar Mugheri, her handsome and imposing husband. He was deep in conversation with a famous businessman, though the man’s eyes frequently wandered to Tina, and she relished the attention. Not far away, their son Ayan stood surrounded by a group of laughing girls. Handsome and impeccably dressed, Ayan was the very reflection of his parents, carrying himself with the same effortless grace.

This dazzling event was Tina Maghiri’s birthday celebration. Mirran Villa, already famous for its allure in Beverly Hills, was even more radiant tonight, glowing with the magic of the occasion.

Suddenly, the atmosphere at Mirran Villa stirred with tension. The guard standing at the gate appeared nervous, fumbling to open it. Sikandar and Tina both snapped to attention, their faces reflecting concern. Seeing the car entering, Tina moved closer to Sikandar. “Oh Sikandar, you told me he had gone to China for a shoot,” Tina whispered, her voice tight with worry. Sikandar, already staring anxiously towards the gate, replied, “I didn’t lie, Tina. I spoke to George. His flight was this afternoon.”

The gate was now fully open, and a sleek black Bugatti roared in. By the time it reached the porch, all the guests had turned their attention towards it. Gasps of surprise and murmurs of excitement filled the air. Faces lit up in awe— everyone’s except for those of the residents of Mirran Villa. The media surged forward like a wild crowd, cameras flashing, while a few excited guests, especially young women, adjusted their outfits and slid down their dress straps as they rushed towards the car.

The driver’s door of the Bugatti Atlantic opened, and out stepped a figure clad in jeans and a hoodie. The moment he emerged, the girls screamed in delight. His disheveled hair, broad forehead, and angry eyes scanned the crowd as the security guards kept everyone at bay.

Ayan clenched his fists and turned towards Sikandar Mugheri. “What the hell is this, Papa?” he demanded furiously. “You said he was going for a shoot! What’s he doing here?”

Sikandar Mugheri, still in shock, muttered, “Just calm down, I don’t know why he’s here either.”

Meanwhile, the man, moving swiftly with the guards shielding him, made his way through the crowd towards the tables set up in the garden. Tina, now even closer to Sikandar, whispered urgently, “Do something, Sikandar! He doesn’t look like he’s here for good.”

“Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen. Stop overreacting,” Sikandar snapped back, though his steps quickened as he followed.

The man stormed into the garden and halted in front of Sikandar, though his eyes seemed to be fixed on the elaborate decorations around. “Mirran, please, don’t make a scene,” Sikandar Mugheri pleaded. “I should have asked you, but since you were busy with your shoot, I thought…”

Before Sikandar could finish, Mirran Mugheri shrugged off his hand from his shoulder, clearly uninterested in hearing any explanation.

Mirran then headed directly toward the grand table in the center of the garden, where the enormous birthday cake for Tina Mugheri stood proudly. “Please, don’t ruin this. It’s Tina’s birthday party,” Sikandar hurried after him, pleading.

Mirran stopped and turned his head sharply, locking eyes with Sikandar. After a few intense moments, Sikandar broke the gaze, looking away. With a mocking smirk, Mirran turned back to the table and, in one swift motion, flipped it over, sending the cake crashing to the ground.

“Sikandar Mugheri, this is Mirran Villa, not Mugheri House. Whatever happens here, only Mirran Mugheri decides,” he declared coldly. Without another glance, Mirran strode away, instructing the staff to clean up and announcing the end of the party. He disappeared into the villa, leaving behind whispers and gasps from the guests. The young women, despite his attitude, remained infatuated, while murmurs rippled through the crowd.

To be continued..