MASTER OF GAMES (7 Prisoners 1 Dead #1)

Chapter 2: Surrender to Death

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I hadn't even noticed the masked man closing in on me until it was too late. When he tried to rip the bag from my shoulders, I screamed. I pressed my arms tight against my body, fighting to keep it on.

"Help me!" I shouted toward the people inside the apartment. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I dug my feet into the floor, pulling myself toward the stairs. "Please, I'm begging you, help me!"

They looked straight into my eyes yet did nothing. Disappointment crushed my chest, though deep down, I knew I shouldn't have been surprised. Since when did people care about others' screams?

I tried kicking, but his grip was too strong. A sob escaped my lips, trembling of my knees made me feel weak. I no longer had the strength to form words, so I screamed until my throat burned.

Why wasn't anyone hearing me?

Why wasn't anyone helping?

Please, someone, help!

The man yanked my phone from my pocket. The more I struggled, the tighter his grip grew. Every time I resisted, my strength drained further, and pain flared in my arms. My legs had gone weak, so weak that if he let go, I was sure I'd collapse to the floor. I couldn't stop him from dragging me.

The crash of my phone hitting the ground rang in my ears. He cursed and kicked it as he pulled me toward the apartment. My eyes went wide as the phone smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces.

"No!" I screamed.

"Shut up!" he shouted, yanking me by the hair and throwing me inside of the apartment. I hit the floor face down, pain exploding along my jaw. The men in the apartment grabbed my arms and dragged me farther in. I screamed again, this time from the sharp ache tearing through me.

"Don't touch me!" I shouted, eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling uncontrollably as I curled into a fetal position. My arms wrapped around my body, holding myself as tightly as I could.

"Hurry up!" a strange voice ordered. Others followed, echoing behind it.

"Get her away from the red zone!"

My cheek scraped against the floor as my body was pulled along. Rough hands tugged at my clothes. My mouth filled with the sour taste of stomach acid. I couldn't even open my eyes to see who they were. I couldn't even cry anymore. Terror had hollowed me out. All I wanted was time to stop, because that was the only escape from this nightmare.

"Be nice to the girl, you bastard."

What were they going to do to me?

With my mind in a haze, I hear the door slam shut.

Then gunfire erupted.

A chorus of curses followed the shots.

The gunshots grew more and more distant, followed into the depths of my mind. A heavier darkness pressed against my closed eyes. My lips parted, but no sound came out, no words, no screams. Everything had gone still.

All I wished for was a painless death.

None of this was real. It couldn't be real. The grips around my body, the worried whispers circling me, the creaks and the slam of the door...

They couldn't be real.

But they were.

I wanted to open my eyes, but I didn't have the strength. It felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on my eyelids. My arms and shoulders ached, and there was a faint sting on my cheeks. Where my glasses sat on my nose, I felt a dull, vague pain.

When I managed to crack my eyes open, a blur greeted me. I blinked several times. Lifting my hand, I gently touched my face with my fingertips, checking to make sure my glasses were still there. With every blink, the blur cleared little by little.

••

I found myself staring at a cream-colored ceiling. Trying to figure out where I was, the only thing I was sure of was that this wasn't my room.

I wasn't at home.

The last thing I...

When the memories came crashing down on me like cannon fire, a shiver ran through my body. The hallway, the gun, the camera, the men in the apartment, the masked man on the corridor... My eyes widened as I suddenly sat up. I looked around quickly, and after making sure the living room was empty, I lowered my head and glanced down at myself. My clothes were still on me.

My eyes welled up as I let out a hysterical breath. I tried to control the loud, ragged breaths spilling from my lips.

I scanned my surroundings carefully. I was in a living room with three different hallways leading out, a TV, a big set of couches, and a bookshelf full of books. I was lying on one of the couches.

I had to get out of here.

My legs, dangling from the couch, felt less like part of my body and more like heavy chunks of metal I had to drag around. Trying not to make a sound, I slowly set them on the floor. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Wiping the sweat from my palms onto my T-shirt, I walked around the couch.

I had been kidnapped.

No—kidnapped wasn't the right word.

I had walked straight into a nightmare on my own feet.

I was in an apartment. If I managed to get outside and scream, someone would be able to hear me. But deep down, I knew it wouldn't be that simple. I had screamed in the hallway earlier, and no one had come.

My eyes drifted toward the wide hallway that led to the front door. The door didn't have a handle. How was I supposed to open it?

Could I hang out of the window and scream for help?

Other women had tried that. You'd seen them on the news.

I turned my gaze to the windows. Just like the door, they had no handles. And when I'd climbed up the hill to this building, I hadn't seen a single shop or market nearby. Even if I managed to get a window open, the chances of someone hearing me were slim.

Faint, muffled whispers reached me from a distance. I couldn't make out the words. My eyes shifted to the gap of a hallway. As long as I didn't step toward the TV, they wouldn't be able to see me from there.

Even if I tried not to think about it, I could feel the heavy door of a cage slowly closing in on me. They must not hear me. I had to slip away quietly.

The moment I started walking quickly toward the front door, a creak filled my ears. My body froze. I turned my eyes to the source of the sound.

At the corner where the wall met the ceiling, a large gun was mounted with a camera on it. Just like the one in the hallway. The weapon shifted with slow, heavy movements. Seconds later, it stopped, aiming right at me. I froze.

Come on, move! I tried to force one more step forward, but my body wouldn't respond. Just one step!

She didn't scream; she didn't resist. That's what the reports on the news always said. She didn't try to escape.

Horror widened my gaze as I scanned the other corners of the room. Another gun. Then another. And down the hallway, at least one more.

How could this be real?

Terror surged through my veins as I took a few quick, quiet steps. Again, that creaking sound made me stop. The armed cameras followed my every move. If they were recording, someone could be watching me through them.

I had to move faster.

The thoughts bouncing around my mind were afraid of the guns.

I didn't know why I was here. All I knew was that I didn't want to die.

It took some effort to force my legs to move. Just as I lunged forward, a man's voice rose behind me.

"Stop!"

Panic shot through me, but I forced another step forward.

He was close, I felt it. He wanted to keep me here. To trap me. That's what men wanted.

I lunged at the door and slammed my fists against it. "Help!" I screamed with everything I had. "They kidnapped me! Help!" I kept pounding on the metal door, barely hearing the faint creaks of the automated weapons above me.

"i***t!" the same voice thundered so loud it shook the house.

Arms wrapped around my waist, yanking me back, just as the guns fired. The blasts filled my ears as I screamed, my body dragged backward.

My eyes tried to lock onto the movement I saw. Bullets tore past the door, left and right. Death flashed before me. The spot I had been standing in a second ago was shredded under a storm of bullets.

One second. That single second was the only thing that kept me alive.

The arms tightening around my waist pulled me back to another step. Some bullets bounced off the floor, spinning across it, while others hit the wall and stopped. My eyes widened as I stared at the bullets rolling across the ground.

"You okay?" The voice was strained, coming from the person holding me. I didn't answer. I couldn't.

Was I okay? Even if something had happened to me, I couldn't feel it. Lowering my chin, I scanned my body, searching for a bloody wound. When I realized it was a stranger's arm wrapped around my waist, a shiver ran through me. My tears dripped onto the lenses of my glasses, blurring my sight.

The moment I became aware of my position, I screamed. "Let me go!" To my surprise, the man instantly released me. I spun toward him, tears still clouding my vision. He had already stepped a few paces back while my vision got clear.

His messy hair was an odd, dark shade of blond. His brown eyebrows were so tightly furrowed over his brown eyes that they nearly touched. His chiseled face was tense and... frightening.

When my gaze dropped to his arm, a sound like a wounded animal slipped out of me. I clamped a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.

Blood. What I saw was blood.

On the edge of his arm, a bullet had torn the flesh, leaving a strip of red running down. "Stupid girl," he muttered flatly. "If there are red lines on the ground, it's a warning. Normal people think that way, don't they? What did you expect?"

To escape.

"Egemen!" Another man's voice rang out as he rushed toward us. I stumbled back a step.

"You can't just cross the red lines," the blond one continued, not even acknowledging the man yelling at him. "The guns activate. Without exception."

"Egemen!" The man who shouted, curly haired and hazel eyed, finally stopped beside us, panting. He glanced at me, then grabbed Egemen's injured arm. "What the hell...? What happened?"

Egemen finally looked away from me, lowering his eyes to the wound. His expression was eerily calm, as if nothing had happened. "Hurts," he said simply.

The curly haired man's voice sharpened. "How did this happen?" His gaze flicked to the bullets lying on the floor, his expression darkening.

"What do you think, genius?" Egemen snapped, his flat tone suddenly gone. "Do I look like I ran into a wall?"

"Could you stop being an ass for one second?"

"It's just a scratch," Egemen muttered, lowering his arm and turning toward him. Despite his casual tone, his skin had gone pale. I could hear the uneven rhythm of his breathing. "The girl threw herself into the red zone, obviously. I was trying to keep her from dying. What else did you expect, you idiots? I told you one of you should've stayed with her."

"You think that's just a scratch?"

All I wanted was to get away before either of them could do anything to me, but my legs wouldn't move. And even if I could, did I really have the courage or the recklessness to cross back over the red line?

The curly haired man lifted Egemen's arm. The bullet had grazed the flesh, tearing out a piece of skin. Blood was already trailing down toward his elbow. When he let go, the flow shifted direction.

"We need to take care of this," he sighed, then lifted his head to look straight at me. "My name is Kutay. I'm sorry you had to see all this. I can tell how terrified you are, but we're not the ones who trapped you here. Please... just sit down on one of the couches, anywhere you like. If you faint, you don't want to collapse into the red zone."

A heavy silence followed.

Egemen, still bleeding, shot me a glance as he struggled to breathe. "You look like you're about to pass out," he added.

They... they weren't the ones who had trapped me here?

My whole body, along with my thoughts, went numb. It felt like I had no choice but to do as they said. My fate, my entire existence, was in their hands.

Forcing myself, I walked slowly into the living room. I sat down on a worn black couch, curling my hands into fists on my knees. From there, I could see both the small hallway and the front door.

"Are you all okay?" A new, unfamiliar voice came from the hallway. "Why did the guns fire, Kutay, Are you still alive?"

"Don't come in!" Kutay shouted back. "It's fine! We're alive!" He said it as if even that were some kind of blessing. My throat tightened as I swallowed hard. My mouth was bone dry.

Egemen dropped into a single chair, clutching his wound with one hand. Blood was spilling between his fingers.

"I'll get the first aid kit," Kutay said quickly after glancing at the wound again. He darted out of the room, leaving me alone with Egemen.

Neither of us spoke. I kept my eyes on my knees, but the heavy tension between us made the air itself feel thick. Breathing became a struggle.

"It might be hard to believe..." Egemen finally broke the silence, his voice low. I still couldn't bring myself to look at him. "But no one here means you harm. We're all trapped here, just like you, and trying to survive."

What?

Was he calling himself a victim too?

Kutay reappeared with a medical kit, setting it on the small table. My eyes lifted only enough to watch him open it. Inside there were countless supplies I couldn't even name.

Was he a doctor? No... he looked too young to be a doctor.

As Kutay tended to Egemen's wound, the only sounds filling the room were Egemen's muffled curses and strained breaths. Each breath raised the hairs on my arms, but I slowly realized I was regaining control of my body. My fingers twitched. I could feel my lips. My breathing steadied, though my heart still raced wildly.

Even so, I felt the panic attack loosening its grip, step by step.

When Kutay finally finished, Egemen flexed his arm, frowning at the bandage. The only sign of pain was his tightened jaw. Then his gaze met mine, pinning me in place. "You do not step past the red lines," he warned. "Whether you die or not isn't certain, but getting shot is."

"We need to explain things to her, one step at a time," Kutay scolded lightly. He shut the kit and stood, eyeing the blood on his hands with disgust before sitting on the longer couch. "I'm Kutay Alp Kaptan. Prisoner Four. The first thing you need to know... We won't hurt you. Egemen's right. We were trapped here just like you. Hard to believe, but it's true."

Who would believe something like that? Of course I didn't.

"As you've seen, the guns are real. Please don't cross the red lines without thinking. This house has rules, and we don't make them."

"Please," I blurted suddenly. My voice cracked, like dry soil breaking apart. Words were hard to put together. "Please. Let me go. I won't... I won't tell anyone anything."

"We're not who you think we are," Kutay said, his tone patient, like he was trying to convince a child. "Everyone here is a victim, just like you. Believe me, the only thing I want is for you to understand what's happening here."

"She probably can't imagine that we are also victims here," Egemen muttered.

They expected me to just believe this story! This twisted house felt like some sick prank show. What scared me most wasn't the guns on the walls, I'd seen plenty of weapons in movies and shows. What terrified me was the fact that there were several men in this house with me.

"Please," I whispered again.

Kutay closed his eyes briefly, as if praying for patience. When he inhaled, his gray shirt lifted with his chest. "Look," he said softly, opening his hazel eyes to meet mine. "I don't know how he lured you here, but he tricked all of us too. At least we were only men. Waking up here as a girl, facing this house and us, it must be even harder for you. I can't even imagine how you feel."

I just stared at him, replaying his words in my head. If they meant to hurt me, why would they be so insistent on proving their innocence? "Why should I believe you?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.

"I don't think I can give you a logical answer," Kutay admitted.

"This wound should be enough proof," Egemen said flatly, both arms pressed to his stomach. "I don't risk death every day for some stranger I don't even know."

Trying to smooth over Egemen's bluntness, Kutay added, "I've been trapped here for about nine months. I don't know why he chose me. I haven't had any contact with the outside world in months. I came here hoping to rent an apartment. What happened that first day... was the same as what happened to you. The masked men took everything from me and threw me in here."

When voices rose from the hallway, I glanced that way. A chill spread through me, broadcasting my helplessness.

Seeing the fear in my eyes, Kutay said gently, "The others are waiting in the kitchen. There are six of us. Well... there were." He paused briefly. "We figured you wouldn't want to wake up to a room full of men. We didn't want to scare you. We thought just one of us should talk to you. But we didn't expect you'd be this terrified the moment you woke up."

"I was supposed to meet Melis to work on a presentation," I said hardly. My eyes lifted to his face, pleading. "She sent me this address. That's why I came."

Kutay looked away, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "She probably doesn't even know a message was sent from her."

"Or she is working for him," Egemen muttered.

Pain split my chest as if it might burst. This was too much. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to wake up and find myself at home.

If I didn't go home tonight, my mom... she'd lose her mind. We were everything to each other. She couldn't live without me. And me... I had an exam. I needed to study. I was going to university. I wasn't supposed to be here.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

"There might be a chance for us," Kutay said, trying to calm me. His eyes seemed to shine with hope. "Did you tell your mom, your dad, anyone you know that you were coming here? Did anyone see you on the way here?"

It was like he was trying to read the answers straight from my eyes. Could I even breathe? I took a short, shaky breath just to check. The burning in my chest stretched all the way down to my stomach.

"I..." My voice cracked under the weight of guilt. Tears filled my eyes. I had lied to my mom. I'd told her I was going to Kartal, but I'd crossed the city to the other side of Istanbul. I thought she was overreacting, thought she was too controlling, thought she just watched too much TV...

Egemen rolled his eyes. "You don't know how to ask questions properly." He turned fully toward me; all his attention fixed on me. "First of all, can I get your name?"

What if I didn't answer? Would there be consequences? If I lied, would they know? Would it even help me? The balance of possibilities shifted back and forth in my mind.

Finally, after a long pause, I whispered, "Afra... Afra Ahsen Çakmak."

"Which one do you go by?"

"Afra."

Egemen's eyes scanned my face. "The one you should be afraid of is there, Afra," he said, his voice low. When I followed his pointing finger, I saw the mounted guns with cameras fixed on me. "His name is Death."

"The name of the lunatic who trapped us here," Kutay added.

Death.

What a terrifying name. As if it carried the weight of an ending.

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Hey folks!

I hope you enjoyed the episode. What did you think of the chapter?

See you soon!

Author: Işıl Limae | i********:: @isillimae | t****k: @limaeiusa

Translator: Zeynep Aizpurva | i********:: @aryarinai