Chapter One Hundred and Seventy
There was silence. He hated that saying it hurt her and hated even more that it hurt him.
Her phone rang again.
He sighed, not knowing what to do and he snapped, "Pick the damn call!"
"You don’t tell me what to do!" she snapped back.
Then, it seemed the caller had sent a voicemail. The voice came shaking and crying, "You told me if I became your sister’s friend, you would kill my father but you didn’t and he has ended up killing my mum. You, you..."
Before the voice could continue, a male voice was yelling in the background, "I told you not to call the police. You little witch."
Then the line went silent.
"Who’s that?" Ahmet asked.
"Not your business," Asli said as she raced towards the door. She dialed the number but it was off.
Josephine.
The name slammed into her like a missed heartbeat.
"Damn it."
She drove straight to their house.
The door was locked and Asli didn’t hesitate. Her foot struck the wood and the lock snapped, the door swinging inward with a harsh crack.
The living room was a mess. A chair lay on its side, a table overturned, drawers pulled out and emptied across the floor. Broken glass crunched beneath her shoes as she stepped inside.
Josephine and her little brother were huddled together near the wall, arms wrapped tightly around each other.
Their mother lay on the floor a few feet away, unmoving.
Asli crossed the room quickly and knelt beside her. She pressed two fingers against the woman’s neck and found a pulse.
She released a slow breath.
She took her phone out and called the ambulance.
"You lied to me."
Josephine’s voice cracked. She wasn’t shouting. That was worse. Her eyes were red, swollen, fixed on Asli like an accusation that had nowhere else to go.
Asli straightened slowly. Her gaze didn’t soften. It sharpened.
"I don’t beat people, Josephine," she said evenly. "I kill them."
Josephine’s face crumpled. Tears spilled freely now. "Then you should have killed him," she sobbed. "If you had, he wouldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t have killed her."
Asli crouched in front of her, level with her eyes. "Your mother is breathing," she said firmly. "An ambulance is coming." Then, quieter but harder, "Where is your father?"
The children scrambled toward their mother, small hands shaking her shoulders, calling her name over and over.
"He said he was going out," Josephine whispered. "To buy more alcohol."
Asli’s jaw tightened.
"He locked the door behind him," the girl added, as if that detail mattered most.
"He went to buy more alcohol. And he locked the door." Asli repeated.
Josephine looked back at her, desperation twisting her features. "I told you he was evil. Please," she begged, voice breaking. "Kill him."
Josephine nodded, but the blame was still there, heavy in her eyes.
Asli found a seat as the ambulance doors slammed shut outside. The sound of sirens faded down the street, leaving behind a heavy, ringing silence. The house felt hollow now and she couldn’t help but look around.
A chair lay on its side, the table split at one leg, drawers yanked out and dumped across the floor like they had been searched in a rage.
She pulled out her phone and typed quickly, instructing Cole to do exactly as she had told Josephine.
Minutes dragged by.
Then a voice spilled into the house. It was thick, sloppy, and soaked in alcohol.
"Who broke my door?" it slurred. "Josephine! I know it was you, you stupid brat. Where are you hiding?"
Boots scuffed over broken wood. The front door creaked wider and he stepped in.
The moment his eyes adjusted, he froze.
Asli had sat on the overturned sofa at the center of the destruction, one leg crossed over the other, hands resting loosely on her thigh. She hadn’t bothered to right the furniture. She let the chaos speak for itself.
His gaze darted wildly, from the scattered plates to the torn curtains, to the space where his family should have been.
"Who are you? I warned her not to call the police," he demanded, panic creeping into his voice. "Where are they?"
Asli slowly lifted her head.
Her eyes met his, steady and unreadable.
"I’ve gone by many names," she said calmly, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. Then she rose to her feet, stepping over the shattered glass without looking down.
"But for you," she added softly, "you can call me the devil of justice."

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