MESSING WITH THE WRONG PERSON

Leyla's brows furrowed as she watched Ozan walk ahead. His entire demeanor had shifted—tense, alert, almost… dangerous.

She jogged to keep up with him. "Ozan," she called, grabbing his wrist. "What's going on?"

Ozan turned his head slightly, but his expression remained blank. "Nothing you need to worry about."

A loud crash.

Leyla flinched. Somewhere in the mansion, glass had shattered.

Ozan's eyes darkened. In one swift motion, he pulled Leyla behind him, shielding her as he scanned the dimly lit hallway.

"Stay here," he ordered.

Like hell she would.

Ozan started toward the sound, his hand subtly slipping into his pocket—she knew he carried a knife.

Leyla's heartbeat picked up. She clenched her fists, following a few steps behind despite his warning.

A shadow moved at the end of the corridor.

And then—footsteps.

Fast. Running.

Ozan reacted instantly, lunging forward. The intruder barely had time to react before Ozan slammed him against the wall, forearm pressing against his throat.

Leyla gasped. The man wasn't alone.

Another figure emerged from the darkness—this one carrying a gun.

Before Leyla could even process it, Ozan whipped out his knife and threw it.

The sharp blade sliced through the air, embedding itself in the man's wrist. He screamed, the gun clattering to the floor.

Ozan didn't hesitate. He spun back to the first man and punched him hard enough to make him collapse.

Leyla stood frozen.

Her entire body tingled with adrenaline.

Ozan wiped the blood off his knuckles and turned to her, his gaze unreadable.

"Now do you understand why I don't want you involved?"

Ozan's entire body went rigid. His jaw clenched, his fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to pull out another knife and end this right now.

The intruders—at least ten of them—stood around them, guns raised. Ozan could take down two, maybe three, before they fired. But with Leyla here…

He had no choice.

Slowly, he raised his hands in surrender.

The leader of the group—a tall man with cold, calculating eyes—stepped forward. But his focus wasn't on Ozan.

It was on Leyla.

His lips curved into a twisted smirk as he dragged his gaze over her.

"She's stunning," he mused, tilting his head. "This one comes with me."

Leyla's blood ran cold. She stepped back, but the leader reached out, gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him.

Ozan's breathing turned lethal.

He moved instinctively, reaching for his knife—but three guns immediately clicked, pointed directly at his head.

"Uh-uh." The leader tutted, tightening his grip on Leyla. "Behave, or I'll have to teach your little girlfriend a lesson."

Leyla's heart pounded. Ozan was seething, his entire body vibrating with restrained fury.

The leader's fingers brushed against Leyla's cheek.

That was it.

Ozan snapped.

Before anyone could react, he lunged forward.

A single, brutal punch landed on the leader's face, making him stumble back. Guns fired—chaos erupted.

Leyla ducked as Ozan grabbed her wrist, yanking her behind cover.

"We're getting out of here," he growled, his voice dark, dangerous.

Leyla nodded, her fingers tightening around his.

Because for the first time—she wasn't afraid.

She was furious.

Ozan had already taken down three men, their bodies slumped on the cold floor. The others, however, had their guns locked on him, their fingers twitching on the triggers.

But they didn't expect Leyla.

In one swift motion, she whirled around, elbowing the man behind her straight in the ribs. He let out a grunt of pain, momentarily distracted—just enough time for her to snatch his gun.

Click.

She cocked the gun and spun around, aiming it directly at their leader's head.

"Drop your weapons," she ordered, her voice steady—cold.

The leader's smirk wavered. He wasn't expecting this.

The other men hesitated, their fingers tightening on their triggers, unsure.

Ozan wiped blood off his lip, his gaze flickering to Leyla.

She looked fearless.

Deadly.

The gun didn't tremble in her hands. Her eyes burned with defiance, daring anyone to move.

The leader chuckled darkly, raising his hands slightly. "Impressive," he mused, staring at her as if she was a puzzle he wanted to solve. "You've got fire. I like that."

Ozan stepped closer, his voice dangerously low. "And I don't like you."

As soon as Leyla noticed the man acting strange, her instincts kicked in.

He wasn't just standing back like the others—his grip was too tight, his movements too controlled.

Then, she saw it.

A syringe.

Her eyes widened.

The realization hit her hard.

They weren't planning to kill Ozan right away. They were planning to inject him, knock him out, and take him alive.

Not happening.

Leyla reacted fast.

She turned, raising her gun— her finger tightening on the trigger.

Bang!

The bullet ripped through the air, aimed straight at him.

But she was half a second too late.

The man lunged forward at the same time, plunging the needle into her arm.

Leyla's breath hitched.

A sharp sting.

A rush of coldness in her veins.

Her hand faltered, and the gun clattered to the floor.

Her limbs felt heavy.

Her vision blurred.

But Leyla was Leyla.

She refused to go down without a fight.