Jeya_Rashique

Beneath the surface of Istanbul, in the shadows where the world dares not look, Emir reigns—a ghost, a weapon, a monster carved from betrayal. Abandoned as a child, he learned to survive in the blood-soaked underbelly of power until Kanat, a man with secrets of his own, took him in and forged him into something unstoppable.

Emir knows nothing of innocence. Nothing of softness. Nothing of the daughter Kanat kept hidden from him.

Beren.

Delicate. Sheltered. Too pure for a world like his. She should have never stepped into his underground lair. She should have never seen him like that—hands drenched in blood, eyes as dark as the sins he carries.

Now, she is tangled in his world, a world that will eat her alive.

Unless he teaches her how to survive it.

Unless he makes her just as dangerous as he is.

But some flames burn too close, some shadows whisper too sweetly, and some monsters… aren’t meant to be tamed.

 A dark, intense tale of power, obsession, and love laced with danger. Enter at your own risk.

The Devil's Butterfly

The funeral was silent. Too silent.

No prayers. No comforting whispers. No soft murmurs of mourning.

Just the sound of dirt hitting the coffin.

Beren stood still, her face blank, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She refused to cry.

Because tears were for the weak. And she couldn't afford to be weak anymore.

Emir stood beside her, his expression unreadable. But his posture—the rigid way his fists curled, the barely contained rage in his eyes—said everything.

Kanat's death wasn't an accident. It was a message.

And whoever had sent it was still out there—breathing, laughing, thinking they had won.

As the last shovel of dirt was thrown over Kanat's grave, Emir finally spoke. His voice was low, dark, edged with something lethal.

"This city will burn for what they did."

Beren turned to him, her heart hammering against her ribs.

The raw, untamed savagery lurking beneath his smirks. The storm that had always been there—waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.

And she knew, in that moment, that Emir wouldn't stop.

Not until every last person involved in Kanat's murder was dead.

Beren exhaled slowly. "Then teach me."

Emir's gaze snapped to her. "What?"

She lifted her chin. "Make me stronger. Make me powerful. So I can fight with you."

For the first time in his life, Emir looked truly surprised. And then—he smirked.

But it wasn't his usual playful smirk. It was dark. Sinister. Twisted with something close to admiration.

"Careful what you ask for, Beren," he murmured, stepping closer. His fingers brushed against her jaw—light, teasing, but with an edge of something dangerous. "Because once I start, I won't stop."

Beren didn't flinch. Didn't look away.

"Good," she whispered. "Because I don't want you to stop."

Emir let out a low chuckle, his breath ghosting against her skin. "Sweetheart, you have no idea what you've just done."

He leaned in, so close she could feel the warmth of his lips hovering near hers.

"By the time I'm done with you… you won't recognize yourself."

The Birth of Fire