Chapter 16

Author's pov

The office was suffocating in its silence, the weight of the past twenty-four hours pressing down on them like a vice. The air was thick with the acrid scent of whiskey and cigarettes, their glasses barely touched, the ice long melted. But no one cared. No one moved. No one spoke.

Zyran sat at his desk, his fingers steepled, his dark eyes burning with something unreadable—something dangerous. His expression was carved from stone, but beneath the surface, something volatile coiled, waiting to snap. Cihan stood rigid by the bar, his grip white-knuckled around his glass, jaw locked so tight it was a miracle his teeth hadn't shattered. His usual composure was nowhere to be found, his chest rising and falling in controlled, measured breaths that did nothing to steady the storm brewing inside him.

Rezan lounged back in his chair, his usual smirk absent, his fingers drumming a slow, erratic beat against the armrest. His shoulders were tense, his eyes flitting toward Zyran every few seconds, as if gauging when the inevitable explosion would come. Dehrin, the youngest and usually the loudest, was deathly quiet. His legs bounced, his fingers twitched. The air crackled with the weight of everything left unsaid, the thick, suffocating knowledge of what they had done or rather, what they had failed to stop.

She betrayed us. I shouldn't care. The youngest thought.

The knock at the door barely registered.

"Come in," Zyran's voice was cold, indifferent but there was a razor's edge beneath it, a threat unspoken but understood.

The maid stepped in cautiously, head bowed, holding a small box. The moment she placed it on the desk, she hesitated, as if sensing the storm she had just walked into. "These... belonged to her."

The moment stretched, unbearable.

Rezan exhaled sharply, pushing himself up with a scoff. "That lying little bitch had us fucking fooled." His voice was rough, biting, but underneath, there was something wavering, something unsteady. "The scared act, the innocent damsel in distress shit and we actually bought it."

He ripped the lid off the box and dug through the meager belongings. A red dress- the one she had arrived in. A cheap, plastic hairclip. A few scattered items, pencils, hairbands, a half-used chapstick. The kind of things a kid would carry.

Then, at the bottom, something else.

A photograph.

Rezan frowned, pulling it out. The edges were curled, the colors faded. He flipped it over and the world cracked apart beneath him.

Their mother's face stared back at him, soft and beautiful, frozen in time. She was smiling, holding a small child no older than three or four. A little girl, with soft brown hair, big hazel eyes. Familiar. Too fucking familiar.

His throat dried. His fingers trembled.

He turned the picture over, stomach twisting violently.

To my sweet, Yerenica Demir.

A sharp inhale. The scrape of a chair. A clatter of glass.

"What..." Cihan's voice broke. His hands, usually steady, were shaking as he grabbed the photo. Zyran was already leaning in, his dark eyes narrowing, his expression frozen, unreadable. But there was something in the way his fingers curled into fists, something murderous. Something shattered.

The silence was deafening.

The silence so sharp it pierced through their hearts.

A chair screeched violently against the floor as Dehrin shoved back from the table, his entire body stiff, like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

Then he was gone.

A blur of black, the slam of a door, the heavy pound of boots against marble. Running. Running like the fucking devil was clawing at his heels.

His chest felt like it was caving in. His lungs burned, but he didn't stop, didn't slow. His mind was screaming, no, no, no, no. He reached the cellar doors, his pulse pounding so violently it drowned out everything else.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" he roared, his voice raw, guttural, shaking with something too big to name.

The guards scrambled. Fumbled. The door creaked open and he stepped into fucking hell.

She was there.

Curled up in the corner, pressed against the cold stone like she could somehow disappear into it. A mess. A fucking ruin.

Her body trembled violently, her arms clutching herself, too small, too fragile. Bruises, deep and ugly, marred her pale skin, a sickening contrast of purple and blue. A cut beneath her left eye, her lip split, swollen. Her dress- fuck- her dress was ripped at the collar, the right sleeve hanging loose, her fingers desperately clutching at the fabric, trying to cover herself. Trying to disappear.

Something inside Dehrin snapped.

"Yerenica..." His voice cracked, something foreign in it something broken.

He crouched slowly, hands in front of him like he was approaching a wounded animal. "It's okay, baby. I swear, I swear I won't hurt you, just, just come here. Please."

Her wide, haunted eyes locked onto him. Then flickered past him.

The others were there now, frozen in the doorway. Zyran, Cihan, Rezan. Staring. Seeing. And for the first time,

Understanding.

Seeing the consequences of their own fucking hands.

Yerenica swallowed, her throat working, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something.

She flinched so violently when Dehrin moved that it cut through him like a goddamn blade.

"No...please-" her voice was wrecked, a whisper, barely a breath. She pressed herself tighter against the wall, her fingers curling around the torn fabric, desperate, shaking, sobbing. "Don't don't hurt me- p..please I didn't—"

She didn't finish.

Her lashes fluttered. Her body swayed.

Then she collapsed.

"FUCK- " Dehrin lunged forward, but Cihan was faster. He caught her before she hit the ground, his grip firm but careful, as if she might shatter in his hands.

And maybe she already had.

She was so light. Too fucking light. Her face, battered and bruised, was unnervingly peaceful now, unconscious.

Cihan's jaw clenched, his entire body coiled so tight he thought he might snap. Without a word, he turned and strode out, holding her against his chest.

No one spoke. No one fucking breathed.

Zyran was the last to leave. He didn't look at his brothers, didn't look at the guards, didn't look at anything but the broken girl they had left to rot.

His voice was quiet, lethal, final.

"Get the doctor. Now."

Thoughts?

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