Chapter One Hundred and Eighty- Six
They hadn’t given a warning. If he’d known... no, there were no excuses. He should’ve been ready, always. And yet, of all the days, they had to strike today, today, when he had left his room without even checking his gun. The weight of that lapse pressed down on him like ice.
His jaw tightened.
"Fuck."
He slammed the magazine back in anyway. Two bullets were enough, if he didn’t waste them. If he didn’t hesitate. He would kill the first man, rip the gun from his hands, then the next, and the next after that.
Around him, men scrambled, diving behind vehicles, walls, anything that could offer cover. Gunfire split the air, controlled but relentless, a deadly rhythm he recognized. The Villa wasn’t surrendering without a fight.
He leaned out just enough to scan.
Three vehicles through the main gate. Another two swinging wide, trying to flank. He could tell she was testing him, probing for weak spots.
Of course, she was.
He fired once.
The man had been creeping too close to his position, boots brushing the edge of cover, his confidence outweighing caution. Ahmet didn’t give him time to realize his mistake.
The shot cracked through the air and the body folded mid‑step and hit the ground hard.
One bullet gone.
Ahmet was already moving. He surged forward, crouched, his fingers closing around the fallen man’s weapon before the echo even faded. He checked it in one swift motion and pulled back into cover, his breath steady, and eyes sharp.
Now he had more than two chances.
Smoke crawled across the field now, thick and choking. The air tasted like metal and dust. Orders overlapped. Someone screamed. Another fell silent.
Ahmet moved low, fast, boots skidding against dirt as another barrage tore through the space he’d just vacated. Stone shattered where his head had been.
He popped up behind a vehicle, breathing hard, and his heart pounding but his mind was too clear.
Then he saw her.
She stepped out of the lead car like the bullets parted for her.
She stayed calm and unhurried.
Asli.
Ahmet’s grip tightened around the gun until his knuckles burned.
She wasn’t hiding. She wasn’t rushing. She stood there, surveying the field, issuing commands with sharp flicks of her hand. Her men moved instantly, as extensions of her will.
She had planned this all her life. Yet, he could sense the hesitation in her formation.
Their eyes met across the chaos.
For a split second, everything slowed: the gunfire, the shouting, the violence shrinking until it was just that look. Cold, familiar, and dangerous.
His finger curled around the trigger.
One bullet left before he used someone else’s gun. There was no glory in that. And so he hid his gun behind his belt. A cruel smile formed on his lips the minute he saw Demir.
A shot cracked close, too close and a stone exploded beside his face. He dropped back, pulse roaring in his ears.
"Keep her alive!" Ahmet shouted, fury and fear tangling in his chest. "No one touches her. That’s an order!"
Movement flickered at the edge of his vision.
One of his men glanced his way, then subtly crossed two fingers against his chest before dropping his hand.
Ahmet stilled.
A double.
His jaw tightened as the meaning sank in. Two orders had been sent into the field: one to take the Villa, another to make sure someone didn’t walk out of it. And that someone wasn’t Demir.


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