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

Leyla had struggled to fall asleep, the weight of the past few days pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. Ozan lay beside her, his presence a constant reminder of the cage she couldn't escape.

At some point, exhaustion took over, and her mind drifted into uneasy sleep.

But in the middle of the night, Ozan stirred as he felt movement beside him.

Leyla shifted, sitting up slowly, her eyes half-open but unfocused.

"Leyla?" Ozan murmured, propping himself up on one elbow.

She didn't respond. Instead, she mumbled something under her breath, her voice thick with distress.

Ozan's brows furrowed. She's sleepwalking.

He sat up, reaching for her, but she flinched away.

"No… I don't want this…" Her voice cracked, her breaths uneven.

A rare wave of something unfamiliar washed over Ozan—concern? Guilt? No, it wasn't guilt. But seeing her like this… broken, fragile, lost in her own nightmares—it stirred something deep inside him.

He caught her wrist gently. "Leyla, wake up."

She whimpered, trying to pull away. "I just want to go home…"

Ozan's jaw tightened. She is home. With me.

Instead of shaking her awake, he pulled her into his arms, his grip firm but careful. "Enough," he muttered against her hair. "You're not going anywhere."

Leyla's body tensed at first, then, as if some part of her subconscious recognized warmth, she relaxed slightly, leaning into him.

Ozan held her like that, staring at her peaceful yet tormented face.

She would never escape him. Even in sleep, she belonged to him.

Ozan gazed at Leyla in his arms, her breathing uneven, her body trembling slightly from the remnants of her nightmares. His grip tightened possessively around her waist.

His eyes traveled to her neck—so soft, so delicate. Without thinking, he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against her skin.

Leyla stirred slightly, a small sigh escaping her lips.

Ozan smirked. Even in sleep, she reacted to his touch.

He whispered against her skin, his lips grazing her pulse, "You're mine, Leyla. No matter how much you fight it… no matter where you try to run… you'll always be mine."

She didn't respond, lost in the haze of sleep.

But Ozan knew—whether awake or asleep, Leyla was bound to him.

Sleepwalking?