BY YOUR SIDE

1

INGRID

Zayed finishes his coffee and stands up from the table, beginning to gather his belongings. He retrieves a crisp white shirt from the closet and starts buttoning it up, his movements efficient and precise.

She watches him, the earlier flicker of something akin to understanding now overshadowed by the stark reality of her situation.

"What am I supposed to do now?" She asks, her voice flat. "Just stay locked up in here all day? What about my schoolwork? I have deadlines."

Zayed pauses his dressing, turning to face her. "Your belongings will be brought here later. Everything you need for your studies."

The weight of his words settles upon her, heavy and suffocating. The casual way he speaks of her confinement, of controlling her life, sends a chill down her spine. The initial shock begins to morph into a cold, hard anger.

"So, I am your prisoner," she states, her voice laced with a bitterness she cant suppress.

"Think of it as protection," Zayed reiterates, though his tone lacks its previous persuasive quality. He slips on a dark jacket. "Your safety is our priority until this situation is resolved."

"My safety?" She scoffs. "My safety was not a priority when your men were shooting people in my workplace and then dragged me away like some object!"

Zayed's expression remains impassive. "That was a regrettable necessity."

He picks up his phone and keys from the table. "My people will bring your things within a few hours. In the meantime," he gestures around the luxurious suite, "everything you require is here. Food will be brought to you. Anything else you need, just let my staff know."

He pauses, looking at her expectantly. "Write a list of any clothing or toiletries you require. They will collect it in approximately two hours."

She stares at him, disbelief warring with a rising fury. His audacity is breathtaking. Who does he think he is, dictating her life, treating her like an inconvenience to be managed?

The brief moments of confusion, the fleeting impressions of his handsomeness or a hidden depth, vanish completely. All she sees now is the cold, calculating man who has stolen her freedom and upended her world.

"You cannot just do this!" She exclaims, her voice trembling with anger. "I have a life! A mother who needs me! Studies I need to complete! You cannot just lock me up in this gilded cage!"

Zayed's expression hardens slightly. "I understand this is difficult for you, Ingrid but it is necessary. Cooperate, and this will be over soon."

He turns to leave, his departure feeling like another door slamming shut on her already limited world. She watches him go, the reality of her helplessness sinking in. She is at the mercy of these dangerous people, and the handsome face she briefly found intriguing now only represents the cold, hard reality of her captivity.

ZAYED

He walks out of the hotel suite, his expression betraying none of the internal conflict he briefly felt. He pulls his phone from his pocket and sends a quick, coded message. As he reaches the elevator, a woman steps out, her dark eyes sharp and observant. She is Zara, his most trusted bodyguard.

"Zara," he says, his voice low and authoritative. "Stay here. Monitor the woman. Ensure her comfort and safety, but do not let her leave this suite under any circumstances. Report any unusual activity immediately."

Zara nods, her gaze unwavering. "Understood, Sir"

He steps into the elevator, the doors closing smoothly behind him. He rides down to the ground floor, his mind already shifting back to the intricate web of his business dealings. Stepping out of the hotel, he is greeted by the sight of two sleek, black Maybachs parked at the entrance. His driver opens the rear door of the first car.

He slides into the luxurious interior, the soft leather enveloping him. The car moves smoothly through the Cape Town traffic. He makes a call, his tone clipped and efficient as he speaks in Arabic, arranging a meeting with Karim at their private residence overlooking the ocean.

The drive takes approximately thirty minutes. The car pulls up to a large, modern villa, secured by high walls and discreet security cameras. Karim is waiting for him on the terrace, overlooking the sprawling view of the Atlantic. He is pacing impatiently, a scowl etched on his face.

"Zayed," Karim greets him, his voice tight with anger. "What took you so long? And what is this I hear about keeping the witness alive?"

He walks towards his brother, his own composure unwavering. "The situation requires careful handling, Karim. A dead cleaner attracts unwanted attention. A compliant one does not."

"Compliant?" Karim scoffs. "You sound like you believe that ridiculous notion. She saw us, Zayed! She can identify us!"

"She is scared," Zayed counters. "And her mother is a powerful incentive for her silence. We have ensured the mother is comfortable. Any harm to her would be counterproductive before our departure."

"Counterproductive?" Karim repeats incredulously. "Zayed, our entire operation was almost compromised last night! That i***t, Omar, got greedy. He thought he could skim more from the latest shipment. Those men we dealt with were enforcers from the Rodriguez cartel. They were not there for a friendly chat about payment delays."

He sighs, running a hand through his face. "I know, Karim. Omar's stupidity almost cost us everything. The shipment of the new synthetic opioid was substantial. The profit margins are enormous, but so are the risks. We had a deal, a clean exchange of money for the product. Omar tried to double-cross them, and it erupted."

"Erupted into gunfire in a public place!" Karim exclaims, his voice rising. "We are lucky the local authorities are as corruptible as they are. Our contacts have already started spinning the narrative, making it look like a local gang dispute but this woman, she is a wild card."

"I understand the risk," he says calmly. "Eliminating her now would create more questions. Her disappearance would be noticed. Keeping her contained until we leave is the cleaner solution, ironically."

"And you trust her?" Karim asks, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You trust a stranger who witnessed a double murder committed by us?"

"I trust that her fear for her mother outweighs any desire for heroics," Zayed replies, his gaze steady. "Besides," he hesitates for a fraction of a second, "she seems harmless. "

Karim studies his brother, his expression unconvinced. "Harmless, or have you developed a soft spot, Zayed? I saw the way you looked at her at the club. Do not let your urges cloud your judgment. Our business here is too important."

Zayed's jaw tightens. "My focus remains on our business, Karim. The money from this deal will secure our operations for the next year. The contacts we have made here are valuable for future shipments. I will not jeopardize that for a fleeting distraction."

He walks over to the railing, looking out at the ocean. "Zara is with her. She is capable. The woman will not leave that suite. Once we depart, we will ensure she remains silent permanently, if necessary. But until then, she is more valuable, alive and contained."

Karim remains unconvinced and sighs, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Just ensure this is handled, Zayed. I do not want any more complications. We leave at the end of the week. By then, this glimmer in the shadows needs to be extinguished."

"Our primary business at the club is concluded. The exchange went sideways due to Omar's greed, but the intended outcome, the acquisition of the product was achieved, albeit with unwanted bloodshed."

"The fallout is what concerns me now," Karim says, his gaze still troubled. "The Rodriguez cartel does not take such disrespect lightly. We need to ensure they believe the local gang narrative and do not trace it back to us before we leave South Africa."

"Our contacts are working on that," he assures him. "Tonight, we need to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Skipping our usual appearances would raise suspicion among our local associates and potentially alert the cartel that something is amiss.

We will show face at a private gathering arranged by one of our key distributors. It is a delicate dance, projecting strength and control while subtly cleaning up the mess Omar created."

Karim sighs again. "Very well but I want constant updates on the woman. Zara is capable, but do not underestimate a desperate person."

"She is being monitored, Karim," he reiterates, a hint of impatience in his voice. "My focus tonight will be on solidifying our position with our distributors and ensuring the Rodriguez situation does not escalate further before our departure."

They move inside the villa, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to the grim realities of their business. They begin to discuss the details of the evening's gathering, reviewing names, alliances, and potential threats.

Their conversation is a low murmur, punctuated by the clinking of glasses as their staff prepare refreshments.

NARRATED

The door to the hotel suite opens, and Zara walks in, her movements efficient and her gaze assessing. Ingrid, who has been pacing restlessly, stops and looks at her with a mixture of frustration and apprehension.

"Good morning," Zara says, her tone professional and devoid of any personal warmth. "I am Zara, your bodyguard, instructed to look after you during your stay here."

Ingrid sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair. "This is bullshit. I do not want to be looked after. I want to go home. I have a life, a sick mother."

Zara's expression remains unchanged. "The best way for you to return to your life is to cooperate fully. This situation will be over soon enough."

Ingrid exhales sharply, the air escaping her lungs in a rush of exasperation. "Is Zayed dangerous?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, a flicker of fear returning to her eyes.

Zara chuckles softly, a dry, humorless sound. She ignores Ingrid's question and instead focuses on the task at hand. " Zayed asked for a list of things you need. Clothing, toiletries…?"

Ingrid rattles off a list of basic necessities, her tone clipped and resentful. Zara types swiftly on her phone as Ingrid speaks, her fingers flying across the screen. "Done," Zara says, pocketing her phone. "Someone will go and purchase these items for you."

"And what now?" Ingrid asks, her arms crossed defensively. "Are you just going to sit there and watch me all day?"

Zara shrugs, her dark eyes meeting Ingrid's directly for the first time. "That depends. We can sit in silence, or we can talk. Perhaps you can tell me what happened, how you ended up here."

Ingrid recounts the events of the previous night, her voice trembling slightly as she describes the chaos at the club and the moment she witnessed the shooting.

"So you saw them kill those men," Zara states, "That is bad luck for you. Though those kinds of people probably deserved it."

Ingrid stares at her, shocked by her casual dismissal of the violence. "Deserved it? They were human beings!"

Zara shrugs again. "In this world, some humans are worth more than others.”

“How long have you been with them?" Ingrid asks, her curiosity piqued despite her anger.

"About two years now," Zara replies, her gaze drifting towards the window.

"And what exactly do they do?" Ingrid presses. "What kind of business is this?"

Zara turns back to her, her expression hardening slightly. "The less you know about that, the better for your peace of mind."