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Bahman was cautious; he was afraid Oman could raise a suspicion. He forbade any of his men to even talk about it. If anyhow it happened, he was sure Oman would not hesitate to kill him.

All day and night, he kept guards around, keeping an eye on him. He knows Oman's potential as a soldier. He was inevitable on the battlefield, and even innocents' blood was on his hands.

He was young, only a boy, when he signed up for war. There was ice in his eyes. Soon he became a destroyer of men. as if he were never afraid to kill someone and as if it fulfilled his beastly will.

Seeing that he was unbroken and vigilant in his task, Sultan made him the commander of the great army. Everyone feared him. Even in his own heart, Bahman feared him.

Bahman was close to Sultan's brother, Ibrahim. His death had formed a chaotic, crazy ambition in him to punish Oman for the deed he had done.

He didn't care and knew how and why Oman murdered Ibrahim.

Shahbaz, being his best friend, told everything about how Oman was planning to take control of the whole country with the support of his army.

Two months ago, Oman wrote a letter to him asking for his help. He has already informed Shahbaz about it. Their plan was ready. They were aware of his plan and tracked his every move.

He wanted to know what made Shahbaz turn against Oman. They were best friends and very close. So many questions remained unanswered.

And only time could answer all of them.

Shahbaz made it clear that he himself would capture and kill him. Before that, no one will touch him. He was on his way, and every day it was getting harder for Bahman to keep things in his hands.

His horse was robbed. He knew who did it. But he couldn't do anything as no trace was left behind.

A roar of shouting came from outside. He had a terrible gut feeling about it.

Bahman heard a series of hard knocks on his door. He went to the door and opened it.

He saw one of his own hired guards standing at his door, raising his dagger.

"He escaped," he said breathlessly.

Pushing him back, Bahman rushed toward Oman's room. But there was nothing. Everything was gone, even their belongings.

"Fool, go catch him. Tell every man in this house to find him and inform the Assassins of this city about it," he screamed at the gathered armed guards.

"He still couldn't have crossed this city." "Hurry up!" he shouted.

It all happened so fast that every guard was aiming to find Oman. They rode on their horses and went in every direction they had expected he could have turned.

Bahman was frozen at the same spot, in the same room. Where Oman was staying.

"Shahbaz would kill me. Yaa Allah save me," he muttered, placing a hand on his forehead.

Waiting for Shahbaz wasn't a good idea. He should have killed Oman when he caught him in his trap.

He began swearing and cursing at his fate.

He hurriedly went to his own room. as soon as he closed his door. He saw a dark shadow move behind the door.

His eyes swiftly moved, catching Oman standing behind the door, looking at sword in his hands.

He got a little heart attack, and his eyes went wide.

The sight of Oman, his face taut with rage, his arching brows, sent the Bahman prostrate to the ground.

It was a great idea. Vanishing and making Bahman believe he had escaped When actually, he was hiding in his room. as he already knew his men would check everywhere but Bahman's room.

"Bad move," Oman smirked.

He closed the door with a kick, stepped closer to him with the speed of light, and attacked his neck, chocking him to death.

What? He thought he could trap Oman. The mighty commander The great leader and fighter No, he wouldn't?

His expression darkened, his anger arriving without warning and whipping him into a stormy rage.

"Leave me," he said, gasping for air.

"No, my dear friend. I would not leave you." Oman increased the pressure on his neck. cutting his air supply.

"Inviting me into your house. It was his plan, right?" Oman dropped the hold on his neck, pushing him contemptuously away.

Bahman fell back. Oman placed his foot on his stomach, pressing the toe of his boot hard into his stomach.

Bahman groaned in pain, but there was no one to listen.

He yanked him up by the hair. "You have a message for me from Shahbaz,"

But he kept quiet.

Oman twisted his hand, making him scream. "What does he have to say?"

This time Bahman gave him a cunning smile. He looked behind Oman before he spoke.

"He is coming for you, and this time you won't be able to escape." His eyes were full of poison, staring into Oman's soul.

Sujain was standing behind Oman with a dagger in his hand.

Before Oman could understand his statement. A dagger was plunged deep into his back shoulder.

back stabbing? He didn't expect this from Sujain.

"Don't touch my father, you son of bitch" Sujain roared at him.

Sujain clutched the dagger deep into his shoulder, making Oman's eyes to roll back.

Not wasting a moment he looked behind him and swung a fist against Sujain's skull.

The dagger soaring through the air in the opposite direction.

Fueled by fury, Oman launched himself at the Sujain and gave punch after punch on Sujain's face.

"Stay away from me. Today I am just giving a warning, if dickheads like you still didn't understand. There will be flowing bloodstreams" After that a well-aimed kick was sent between Sujain's legs, making him unconscious.

Both father and son were lying on the ground, unconscious. Oman extended his hand to wipe away the sweat. But he stopped midway and turned toward the gasp.

There stood Azadeh, a wife and a mother.

Instinctively, Oman stood in front of her, shielding the scene from her gaze.

"Brother." Her voice was no more than a whisper.

He shook his head. "It is best you don't look."

She began to shake. Her knees seemed to be turning to jelly. As she began to fall, Oman caught her in his arms.

She knelt over her son's body.

"Are they fine?" a touch of hysteria in her voice.

"Yes, just unconscious," he said, not meeting her eyes.

"You should go," she said, as she was disappointed in him.

He nodded. There was nothing he could do.

He was used to this. He was used to these kinds of looks as if he were some kind of Satan.

He was rumoured to be a ruthless man with a appearance who kills without giving any thought.

Within minutes, the pain in his shoulder grew unbearable. He saw that the cloth had been entirely stained scarlet. He removed his robe from his shoulders and checked his wound.

It was deep. Oman closed his eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, and swallowed hard.

The adrenaline had been purged from his system, leaving only numbness. His vision had begun to tunnel again. His throat felt dry.

Feeling a little disoriented, he made his way outside of this huge mension. He was lucky because not many people was present there.

Hiding every then and now, so no one would see him, he walked into a terracotta shed, where he had told Tara to keep hiding.

Tara was looking mindlessly at the robbed horse when her eyes went up to Oman.

She smiled, sensing her husband's protective presence near her.

His headdress was tied back from his face, which glistened with sweat from his exertions.

Even she noticed the belt around his waist was not there, which held his knife and scimitar.

The thin white of his tunic clung to his back with sweat, outlining the breadth of his shoulders.

Then his first few buttons at the neck were opened, giving her a glimpse of his lightly tanned skin. His white tunic was socked red.

She gasped loudly, placing her hands on her mouth. It struck her then that someone had attacked him.

She imagined the worst scenario. where he was lying in a pool of blood.

She was too shocked and numb to move her body.

A tear splashed down her cheek, then another.

"Blood," she whispered. Her voice had a panicky edge to it.

Then she began to sob loudly.

Oman shook his head and opened his arms, welcoming her into his arms.

A heavy frown drew his dark brows together, making him seem both more intimidating and older.

With big eyes, she pleaded as she walked towards him. tightly squeezing him into her.

"Who... did this to .....you?" she asked him between her crying.

"Bad man," he murmured.

"Shhh. I am okay. Stop crying, baby, or someone will hear us. Shhh shhh," he kissed on top her head.

His finger dangled in her hair. He pulled her head into his chest, embracing her securely.

Oman took her arm and gently made her sit beside him on dried grass.

She touched his face briefly. Checking for any injury on his face, and she again sobbed loudly. She wanted to remove the look of misery from his face.

"Oman" was a call of distress.

"Yes, baby. I am here. Sorry I kept you waiting," he said, placing his hand on her head and creased it with love.

She hid her face in his neck and kept crying silently. She was not able to stop crying.

She was having a bad feeling of this from morning.

Today, when she opened her eyes in the morning, she found herself in this shed. Oman told her strictly to hide here and not come outside until he come back and took her with him.

She discovered the robbed mighty horse here. She didn't know what was happening.

Why he stole it?

She wanted to question him, but he didn't give her the chance. He was in such a hurry.

She looked back into his eyes and kissed him on the lips. She knew Oman liked kissing her lips. She wanted to take away his pain.

Oman smiled.

She was his home. He didn't need anything in his life now. She would be his everything from now on.

With this thought, he deepened the kiss.