Leyla’s escape

Leyla wandered aimlessly through the unfamiliar streets, the cold night air biting at her skin. The city was alive—cars speeding by, people moving in the distance—but none of it mattered.

She had no phone. No money. No idea where the hell she even was.

The dress she wore—the same damn red dress from last night—felt suffocating now. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked, her steps slowing with exhaustion. The adrenaline that had fueled her escape was fading, leaving behind a deep ache in her muscles.

She spotted a bench near a dimly lit street and sank onto it, burying her face in her hands.

Think, Leyla. Think.

She couldn't go home—not yet. Ozan had planned this too well. If he had the power to kidnap her from a party full of people, she had no doubt he had ways of keeping an eye on her movements.

She exhaled sharply, leaning back against the bench.

Her body was tired, but her mind was sharp.

She wouldn't let him win.

But first… she needed a way out of this mess.

Her eyes scanned the street, looking for any opportunity to escape this nightmare for good.

She just had to be smart about it.

Leyla rubbed her arms, the chill settling deep into her bones. Her stomach twisted in hunger, her body aching from the earlier fight. She had taken down Ozan's men, but now, alone in the city with no money, no phone, and no plan, she was vulnerable.

She needed a way out.

Before she could think further, a sleek black car slowed down near her bench.

Her muscles tensed.

The tinted window rolled down, revealing a man in his mid-thirties. Sharp suit. Cold eyes. Someone who looked like he belonged in the same ruthless world Ozan did.

"You look lost," he said smoothly, his gaze scanning her in that way men did when they thought they had the upper hand.

Leyla clenched her jaw. "I'm fine."

The man smirked, tilting his head. "Are you? Sitting here alone, in the middle of the night, dressed like that?"

She gritted her teeth.

Before she could respond, another presence made itself known.

A deep, familiar voice.

"Leyla."

Her blood ran cold.

Slowly, she turned.

Ozan stood there.

His suit was slightly disheveled, his tie loosened, his hair tousled as if he had run his fingers through it in frustration. His dark eyes burned with something unreadable—anger, relief, possession.

Leyla's fingers curled into fists.

Before she could react, before she could even think about running, Ozan's hand shot out.

And this time—he wasn't gentle.

He grabbed her wrist, yanking her to her feet with a force that sent a shock through her body.

"You think you can run from me, Ateş?" His voice was low, dangerous, vibrating with something dark and uncontrollable.

Leyla struggled, but his grip was unyielding.

The man in the car cleared his throat. "Is there a problem here?"

Ozan didn't even spare him a glance. His entire focus was on her.

"You should leave," he said, voice calm but laced with warning.

The man hesitated, then scoffed before rolling up his window and driving away.

Leyla's breath came out harsh and uneven as she glared up at Ozan.

"You're insane," she hissed.

Ozan leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, "And you're reckless. Did you really think you could escape me?"

She yanked at his grip. "Let. Me. Go."

Instead of obeying, he pulled her closer—so close that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. His scent—smoke, whiskey, something undeniably male—wrapped around her.

His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, "You have no idea what you've just done, Ateş."

Before she could scream or fight—

Ozan lifted her effortlessly.

Threw her over his shoulder.

Leyla was exhausted so she didn't did anything she just accepted his offer.

He got in the car after her and a while later they were back in his mansion. He got out of the car expecting her to follow him. He turned to her. 

Ozan raised a brow, looking at her outstretched arms.

Leyla stood there, barefoot on the cold marble driveway, her red dress hugging her frame, her hair wild from the night's chaos. She was exhausted—he could see it in the way her shoulders slumped, the way her breathing was uneven. But still, she refused to say it out loud.

Ozan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Are you serious?"

Leyla didn't flinch. She simply raised a brow, her expression expectant. "You kidnapped me. This is the least you can do."

Ozan chuckled, dark and amused. "Unbelievable."

But he stepped closer.

And then, with ease, he lifted her into his arms.

Leyla wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, her face resting against his shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat—steady, strong, maddeningly calm.

He carried her inside the mansion, his grip firm but effortless, like she weighed nothing. The warmth of his body against hers made her pulse unsteady, but she ignored it.

"You should stop making a habit of this," she muttered.

Ozan smirked, glancing down at her. "You should stop running. Then I wouldn't have to."

Leyla huffed, refusing to respond.

He carried her up the grand staircase, past the dimly lit hallways, until they reached the familiar room from before.

He pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside, finally placing her gently onto the plush bed.

As soon as she felt the softness beneath her, her body betrayed her. Her muscles relaxed, exhaustion taking over.

Ozan watched her, his gaze unreadable.

"Sleep," he said simply.

Leyla scoffed, forcing herself to sit up. "Don't tell me what to do."

Ozan leaned down, placing a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the bed. His face was close—too close.

"You need rest, Ateş." His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it. "I won't touch you. I won't chain the door." His eyes darkened. "But you're not leaving."

Leyla swallowed, hating the way his presence felt overwhelming.

"I'm not staying here forever."

Ozan smirked. "We'll see about that."

And with that, he stood up, walking toward the door.

Right before stepping out, he turned his head slightly.

"Goodnight, Ateş."

Then, the door clicked shut behind him.