The cool, still night wrapped around the sheikh's palatial estate, a deceptive calm that belied the tension crackling beneath its surface. The failed escape attempt hung over Ali like a noose, tightening with each passing moment. It had been hours since the guards had dragged him and the gardener, Ibrahim, back to the estate. Their faces were battered, their bodies bruised, and their spirits fractured. For Ali, the sting of failure wasn't just physical—it was a wound to his pride, his hope, and his dwindling belief in a better tomorrow.
Ali sat in the dimly lit room where he had been thrown, nursing a split lip and a throbbing arm. Ibrahim lay slumped in a corner, his shallow breathing the only sign of life. The sheikh's wrath was a storm brewing on the horizon, and Ali could feel it creeping closer. He clenched his fists, his mind replaying the betrayal that had undone their carefully laid plans. Someone had tipped off the guards. Someone had made sure the gates were locked, the guards doubled, and their route blocked.
But who?
The question clawed at him, gnawing away at the remnants of his resolve. Sonia had been part of the plan, her whispered reassurances giving him the courage to try. Had she been the one? Or had it been one of the other servants they had cautiously recruited? His thoughts were a maze of doubt and fear, and every path led to the same conclusion: trust was a dangerous game.
The door creaked open, and Ali's heart leaped into his throat. Two guards stepped in, their expressions blank but their eyes cold. Without a word, they hauled him to his feet. He winced, his battered body protesting the rough treatment, but he forced himself to stand tall. He glanced at Ibrahim, but the old man didn't stir. The guards didn't seem to care.
Ali was dragged through the winding corridors of the estate, his bare feet scraping against the marble floors. The sheikh's opulence surrounded him—golden chandeliers, intricate tapestries, and an air of untouchable power. It made Ali sick. This was the world he had been sold into, a gilded cage that stripped him of his humanity piece by piece.
They brought him to the grand hall, a cavernous room that seemed to amplify every sound. The sheikh sat at the far end, his imposing figure draped in a white thobe that gleamed under the soft light. His face was calm, almost serene, but Ali knew better. Beneath that composed exterior was a tempest waiting to be unleashed.
"Ali," the sheikh said, his voice smooth and measured. "Do you know why you are here?"
Ali swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I tried to escape."
The sheikh leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Tried and failed," he said, his lips curling into a faint smile. "Do you know what happens to those who betray me?"
Ali didn't answer. His eyes flicked to the guards flanking him, their expressions unreadable.
The sheikh rose from his chair, his movements deliberate. "When I took you in, you were nothing. A stray, lost and desperate. I gave you a purpose, a roof over your head, food to eat. And this is how you repay me?"
Ali felt a spark of defiance ignite within him. "You didn't take me in. You bought me. Like a piece of property."
The room fell silent, the air heavy with tension. The sheikh's eyes narrowed, his smile vanishing. He stepped closer, his presence looming over Ali like a dark shadow.
"You dare speak to me like this?" the sheikh hissed. "After everything I've done for you?"
Ali met his gaze, his voice steady despite the fear coursing through him. "You've done nothing for me. You've taken everything from me."
The sheikh's hand lashed out, striking Ali across the face. The force of the blow sent him stumbling, but he didn't fall. He straightened, his cheek burning but his resolve unbroken.
The sheikh turned to the guards. "Take him to the courtyard. Let everyone see what happens to those who defy me."
The guards dragged Ali out of the hall, their grip like iron. The courtyard was already filled with the other servants, their faces pale and their eyes wide with fear. A makeshift platform had been erected in the center, its purpose clear.
Ali was forced onto the platform, his arms tied behind his back. The sheikh followed, his steps measured and deliberate. He addressed the crowd, his voice carrying with ease.
"Let this be a lesson to all of you," he said. "Defiance will not be tolerated. Loyalty is rewarded, but betrayal is met with punishment."
Ali scanned the crowd, his eyes searching for Sonia. She stood near the back, her face a mask of anguish. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, he saw her lips move. She was saying something, but the distance and the noise made it impossible to hear.
The sheikh turned to Ali, a whip in his hand. "You will bear the consequences of your actions," he said. "And you will remember that your place is here, under my rule."
The first lash tore through the air, striking Ali's back with a searing pain that made him gasp. He clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out. The second lash followed, then the third, each one carving into his flesh and his pride. The crowd watched in silence, their fear keeping them rooted in place.
By the tenth lash, Ali's vision was blurred with tears and pain. But he didn't scream. He wouldn't give the sheikh that satisfaction.
When it was over, he was cut loose and left to collapse onto the platform. The sheikh addressed the crowd once more, his voice calm and authoritative.
"Let this serve as a reminder," he said. "Loyalty is everything. Betrayal will not be forgiven."
The crowd dispersed slowly, their faces pale and their eyes downcast. Sonia lingered, her hands trembling as she fought the urge to run to Ali. But the sheikh's guards were watching, and she knew better than to draw attention to herself.
As the guards dragged Ali back to his room, he caught a glimpse of Sonia slipping away into the shadows. He clung to that image, a fragile spark of hope in the darkness enveloping him.
Back in his room, Ali lay on the cold floor, his body broken but his spirit unyielding. He had failed, but he wasn't finished. The sheikh's wrath had scarred him, but it had also hardened his resolve. He would escape this place. He would find freedom, no matter the cost.
And when he did, he would make sure the sheikh paid for every lash, every humiliation, every stolen dream.
As he drifted into an uneasy sleep, his thoughts turned to Malick. The betrayal still burned, but Ali couldn't shake the feeling that his old friend was closer than he realized. Perhaps too close.