Mala Novel By Nimra Ahmed Novels & Stories

His dominance and arrogance demanded it. But instead of his powerful and authoritative posture, Ariella shrank into the back of the chair, a look of terror in her eyes like a hunted animal. Malachi stood in the doorway, his feet fused to the marble floor as he watched helplessly the wound that gaped on her chest. Then he would wake up, covered in sweat, his throat strangled with silent screams. "Sounds like your daydream is actually a nightmare." Malachi stared at Hamilton cooly, at the flippant way that he'd brushed off his confession.

Chapter Sixty-Nine— kiss ★Maliya's POV★ I couldn't sleep. The safe house was quiet. Too quiet. Every creak of the floorboards made me jump. Every shadow seemed threatening. I lay in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling, and tried to process everything that had happened in the past six hours. Micaiah was a criminal. Daemon was a criminal. They were enemies in some war I hadn't known existed. And I'd been caught in the middle, used by both of them.

The boy’s eyes, usually a vibrant amethyst, were dull and glassy, fixed on the empty spot where his mother had been standing seconds before. "Mama?" the boy whispered, the word barely more than a breath. Malachi didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat felt like it was filled with shards of obsidian. He looked down at the floor. There was no body. No blood. Only a single, glowing white petal resting in the center of a blackened circle on the stone. He knelt, his heavy armor clattering in the quiet room, and picked up the petal with a trembling hand. The moment his skin touched it, a shock of warmth jolted through him—a faint, rhythmic pulse that felt like a heartbeat.

"If he’s cheating on me, I’ll have her head. I’ll kill them both." "Maria, wait," I said, but she wasn't listening. She was already limping toward the house, her emerald gown torn by the bushes. I looked down at the floor of the gazebo and saw something glinting in the moonlight. I picked it up. It was a small, silver pendant—a mirror-shaped charm. It was exactly like the one Diana wore. My heart dropped. The "Mirror of Malice" wasn't just a name for my marriage. It was a web, and we were all caught in it.

Malikha muttered while frowning deeply at the tiny structure. She glanced nervously to the right and left before cautiously stepping closer. With hesitant movements and an anxious expression, she slowly opened the small wooden door and entered the stall. Once inside, Malikha immediately looked upward, checking the walls carefully. Thankfully, the wooden panels were tall enough to prevent anyone from easily peeking inside. Still, she grimaced at her own miserable situation. Perhaps this really was the fate she had to endure as Aidan’s wife. Praying silently that nobody would come, Malikha carefully turned on the warm-water faucet. Instantly, steaming water poured down.

It has been five years and the place has changed a whole lot, I passed a door but then I stopped and move backwards and peeped through the open window Malia was with a knife in her hand and it was being pointed towards Liya, what the fuck has gotten into her? "Someone please save me from this woman. Malia why are you trying to kill me?" Liya's voice echoed. My legs instantly felt numbed and that was when I saw Malia pushing her to the floor and they both fought for dominance and that was when I pushed the door open.

It was the shortest and most convenient path to Middle East clients and suppliers. But he surrendered the village and port to Usmaan Baig in return of Maahi, who had abducted her after lodging five bullets inside Kunal in broad daylight. With Kunal fighting for his life in ICU, no news of Maahi for three days, sordid incident making national headlines and police department trying to infiltrate his business in the guise of kidnap and attempted murder investigation, all the walls had closed in on Lala Amarnath at once. He had caved in. He gave up his rights on Maaleghat to Usmaan Baig, as a ransom for Maahi's release. That rascal, however, reneged on his word and did not send Maahi back. Amarn

Malica stared at him with anger in her eyes. Malica was a dark skinned Mexican woman, she is the owner of the prostitution firm Alora was sold to. Malica was the mother of two girls, but her daughters passed way due to an unpleasant event were both of her daughters were brutally raped by a couple of unknown men, which attacked them. Malica is a saddiest which makes a living out of young girls, forcing them to sell their bodies to men. She believes it is a way of live as she was ones in the business. “He wants Alora!.” Malica finally said.

I looked at the empty bowl in my hand and lamented dejectedly. “Nanny Zoy said the path to a person’s heart is through their stomach. It’s been a week, and yet, Saira still doesn’t like me.” “I think that old woman is playing with us. Idris, think of another way. Don’t girls like jewelry? Buy Saira the most expensive jewels, then she might fall for you.” Malko excitedly suggested. “You forget, Mal. My girl is the only daughter of Malivik Usan. She must’ve seen more jewels than we can imagine.” I dumped the bowl in the sink and headed to my office to get some paperwork done.

Fire flickered in my palm, called by thought alone. “Burn them,” Malrath whispered, fading. “And bring me the girl.” The mirror went black. I stood slowly, curling my fingers. Flame danced obediently over my skin. A new weapon. Perfect. The white wolf would bleed for me soon, her kingdom turning to ash at my feet, and I would hand her head to my king… smiling. _____________________ Daeira POV