You wake up like a dream, Ateş

Leyla woke up to the scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne. The room around her was dimly lit, luxurious—but it wasn't hers. The silk sheets under her hands felt unfamiliar, too soft for comfort. Her wrists were free, but the lock on the door screamed captivity. 

She sat up instantly, her mind racing. Where the hell was she? 

That's when she heard his voice. Deep. Smooth. Amused. 

"You wake up like a dream, Ateş." 

Leyla's head snapped toward the sound. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her like a predator who had already trapped his prey. His suit jacket was off, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms, exposing the veins that ran down to his wrist. 

She hated how he looked like sin itself. 

She didn't flinch. Instead, she smirked. 

"Kidnapping? Really? This is how low you've stooped?" Her tone was sharp, laced with venom. 

"Where the hell am I?" she demanded. 

Ozan pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer with slow, measured steps. Like he had all the time in the world. 

"Somewhere safe." His voice was maddeningly calm. "Away from all the trouble you insist on throwing yourself into." 

Leyla's fingers curled into the sheets. "You kidnapped me?" 

Ozan smirked. "No. I saved you." 

"Bullshit." 

In a second, he was in front of her. 

Leyla barely had time to react before his fingers wrapped around her throat—not choking, just holding. Controlling. Keeping her still. 

His grip was firm but not bruising, his thumb resting against her pulse. 

Her heart pounded so hard she knew he could feel it. 

"Careful," he murmured. "You're not in a position to curse at me, Ateş." 

Leyla refused to look away. Refused to break. 

"Let. Me. Go." Her voice was steady, even as her skin burned under his touch. 

Ozan tilted his head slightly, his grip tightening just enough to make her inhale sharply. His lips curved into a dark smile. 

"You still don't get it, do you?" His voice was low, teasing, possessive. "You don't tell me what to do, Leyla. I decide when you leave. I decide everything." 

Ozan smirked. "That fire in your eyes..." His grip tightened just enough to make her inhale sharply. "It's cute. But tell me, Ateş..." His voice dropped, husky, filled with dark amusement. "Are you scared?" 

Leyla's nails dug into the sheets. "Of you?" She scoffed. "I don't fear men who think power is in their hands just because they can trap someone in a room." 

Silence. 

Then—a low, deep chuckle. 

Ozan's free hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Slowly, deliberately. The way a man traces the outline of something he owns. 

"You think you're still free?" he whispered. 

Before she could answer, he leaned in. 

His breath was warm against her skin as he traced the curve of her jaw with his lips—not quite a kiss, not quite innocent. Just cruel. 

Leyla tensed, her fingers twitching to shove him away, but his grip on her throat, his presence—his entire being—was overwhelming. 

"You're in my world now," he murmured, his lips ghosting over the corner of her mouth. "And in my world, Leyla..." 

His teeth scraped against the sensitive skin of her jaw before he bit down—hard enough to leave a mark, but not enough to bruise. 

"I don't let go of what's mine." 

Her pulse thundered against his fingers, but she refused to break. 

"I'm not yours." 

Ozan smirked against her skin. 

"We'll see about that, Ateş." 

Ozan leaned back just slightly, his gaze dragging over her like he was savoring every inch of her resistance. 

"Still pretending you're untouched by this, Ateş?" he murmured, his thumb brushing over the mark he'd left on her jaw. "Lying doesn't suit you." 

Leyla's breath was uneven, but her glare didn't waver. She wasn't the type to crumble, not even under his suffocating presence.

"You think you can keep me here forever?" she challenged, tilting her chin up defiantly. "That I'll just—accept this?"

Ozan chuckled, low and husky. His fingers finally released her throat, only to trail down her collarbone, slow and deliberate.

"I don't expect you to accept it, Ateş," he murmured. "I expect you to fight it."

Leyla's jaw clenched. "I'll do more than just fight."

She moved to shove him away, but he caught her wrist mid-motion, twisting it just enough to make her falter. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind her who was stronger.

"Still so stubborn." His gaze burned into hers. "You're lucky I like a challenge."

Leyla yanked her hand free, her breathing sharp. "You're insane."

Ozan smirked, stepping back just a little, giving her space—taunting her with the illusion of freedom.

"You say that like it's news to you." He tucked his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly as he watched her. "But tell me, Ateş... if I'm so terrible, why do you look at me like that?"

Leyla froze. "Like what?"

"Like you're trying to convince yourself that you don't feel this."

Her stomach twisted, but she masked it with a sharp glare. "You're delusional."

Ozan only smiled, infuriatingly calm. "And you're in denial."

She exhaled sharply, stepping back until she reached the edge of the bed. "I don't have time for your games, Ozan. Let me leave."

His smirk faded just slightly. "No."

Leyla's fists clenched. "You don't own me."

Ozan stepped forward, invading her space once more. "Not yet."

Before she could respond, a knock echoed through the room.

Ozan didn't move, didn't even look away from her as he called out lazily, "What?"

A muffled voice answered from outside. "Boss, we have a problem."

His jaw ticked. "Handle it."

"It's urgent."

Leyla saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes, the way his patience thinned. He stared at her for a long moment before exhaling sharply.

"Don't move," he ordered.

Leyla lifted a brow. "Or what?"

Ozan smirked darkly, leaning in just enough to whisper, "Or I'll give you a real reason to stay."

And then, just like that, he was gone.

The door shut behind him, the lock clicking into place.

Leyla exhaled shakily, her pulse still erratic. She looked around the room, searching for anything—any way out.

Because if Ozan thought she'd just sit here and wait for him like a captive princess in a tower—

He was dead wrong.

Leyla's hands worked fast, knotting the silk bedsheets together, her mind racing. The window was her only way out. She had no idea where she was exactly, but the height from the top floor was intimidating.

Her heart pounded, but hesitation wasn't an option. She slung the makeshift rope out the window, tugging it to test its strength.

"Perfect," she muttered.

Without wasting another second, she hoisted herself over the ledge, gripping the fabric tightly as she lowered herself down.

The wind howled against her skin, the distant city lights twinkling beneath her. Her arms burned with the strain, but she was too furious to care. She had to get out of here. Away from him.

Halfway down, the knot slipped slightly, making her drop a few feet suddenly. A gasp left her lips, but she caught herself just in time. Her breath came in quick pants as she stared at the ground below. Almost there.

With one final push, she let go, landing in a crouch on the pavement.

And then—

"Stop right there."

She turned, eyes narrowing.

Four guards. Armed. Blocking every possible way out.

A cruel smirk played on her lips.

Big mistake.

She lunged forward before they could react. The first guard raised his weapon, but she was faster. A sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing to the ground. She spun, dodging another's attempt to grab her, slamming her elbow into his nose with a sickening crunch.

The third one tried to tackle her, but she twisted, using his own weight against him as she threw him over her shoulder.

The last one hesitated.

Leyla met his gaze, eyes blazing.

"Run," she advised.

He didn't listen.

A second later, he was groaning on the ground, clutching his stomach where she had landed a brutal kick.

Breathless, she stood among the fallen men, rolling her shoulders.

Amateurs.

Without looking back, she sprinted toward the gates, disappearing into the night.

She was free.