Stella_Winslet

In the heart of Istanbul, where power and danger walk hand in hand, two fierce souls collide. Leyla Iskender—a woman born into privilege, the daughter of a feared police officer, and a storm in her own right. Trained in combat, fluent in multiple languages, and untouched by fear, she is the kind of woman who doesn’t bow to anyone.

Then there’s Ozan Ali Ahmet—ruthless, enigmatic, and a mastermind with control over the city's underground. When Leyla dares to interfere in his business, she unknowingly marks herself as his greatest obsession. A dangerous game of power and dominance unfolds between them, where every step brings them closer to a line that neither is willing to cross—until it’s too late.

What happens when a man used to control meets a woman who refuses to be tamed? When fire meets fire, will it burn them both… or ignite something even darker?

In the streets of Istanbul

Ozan sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on Leyla's pale face. His fingers clenched into fists. She wasn't supposed to react this way.

He had expected defiance, anger, maybe even cold indifference—but not this. Not a breakdown.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. What the hell was going on in that head of hers?

The room was silent except for Leyla's slow, steady breathing. She looked so fragile lying there. So unlike the fierce woman he had fought with countless times.

"You can hate me all you want, Leyla," he murmured, his voice low. "But you're mine now. And I take care of what's mine."

He wouldn't leave. Not until she woke up. Not until he got some damn answers.

A few hours passed. The storm outside had settled, but inside the mansion, an unsettling silence remained.

Leyla stirred, a soft whimper leaving her lips as her body tensed. Her head pounded, her throat dry. As she slowly opened her eyes, her vision was blurry at first, but then—she saw him.

Sitting beside the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze locked onto her. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes... they held something dark, something possessive.

Memories from before she fainted came crashing down on her like a tidal wave. The stress, the suffocation, the feeling of complete loss of control. Her life was no longer hers.

Leyla's breath hitched as she tried to sit up, but her body felt weak. She needed to get away from him.

"Don't," Ozan's voice was firm as he reached out, pushing her back down gently but with enough force to remind her who was in control.

She turned her face away from him, her jaw clenched. "Why are you still here?" Her voice was hoarse.

Ozan exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "Where else would I be? My wife fainted in front of me. You think I'd just leave?"

Leyla let out a bitter laugh. "Since when do you care?"

Ozan's expression darkened. He leaned in closer, his fingers grazing her jaw as he forced her to look at him. "You don't get to say that to me, Leyla." His voice was low, dangerous. "You're mine now. If something happens to you, it happens to me. And I don't tolerate weakness—not in myself, and not in you."

Leyla yanked her face away, eyes burning with fury. "I am not yours."

Ozan smirked. "Not what you said last night."

Her blood ran cold. Her hands clenched the bedsheets as she glared at him, her heart pounding. "You—"

you’re mine now