Russian scorpion

The proposal

The city blurred past the windows—lights streaking against black, Istanbul alive with its midnight pulse. In the back seat, Leo sat like a corpse propped upright. His hood shadowed his face, his body sagged against the leather, and every breath felt like it dragged sand through his lungs.

All he wanted was silence.

But Kamal had other plans.

“You know,” Kamal began, snapping his fingers as if struck by inspiration, “I’ve been thinking. You fight like a machine, Leo. Cold, efficient, terrifying. But then you go home to what? A small apartment? A waiter’s uniform? Come on. That’s like buying a lion and making it serve tea.”

Leo didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. If he pretended hard enough, maybe Kamal would get bored.

He didn’t.

“You need image,” Kamal continued, one hand drumming the steering wheel, the other gesturing wildly. “Imagine you walk into the room in a black suit, two men behind you, everyone whispering your name. Leo. The man who doesn’t lose. The man no one dares touch.”

Leo let out the slowest exhale in history.

Kamal leaned back, catching Leo’s reflection in the mirror. “Do you hear me? Leo the Ghost. Leo the Lion. No—Leo the Phantom Lion! I’m good at this. You’d be a legend.”

Leo cracked open one eye. “Kamal.” His voice was low, ragged. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll strangle myself with your seatbelt.”

Kamal laughed so loud the car veered a little. “You joke, but that’s the fire I like. The bite! You’ve got charisma and you don’t even try. Even drunk men shut up when you glare.”

Leo muttered, “One didn’t.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

But Kamal wasn’t listening anyway—he was already onto the next thought.

“My cousin, she saw you fight last month. You know what she said? She said, ‘Mama, I found my future husband.’ And she’s rich, Leo. Rich! You could marry her, stop working, live like a king.

Leo dropped his head into his hand. This is worse than the spoiled family. Worse than the screaming kids. At least they ate quickly.

Kamal’s voice filled every corner of the car. “Think about it! Cars, power, respect. You’d have everything. No more waiting tables for people who don’t deserve you. No more scraping for rent. You could have a villa overlooking the Bosphorus, Leo. A amazing villa!”

Leo’s laugh came out sharp, humorless. “Do villas come with earplugs?”

Kamal blinked in the mirror, then grinned wider. “See? Joking already. You’re loosening up. That’s good.”

The car stopped at a red light. Outside, a group of men smoked under a flickering streetlamp. Inside, Leo sat in the growing pressure of his own restraint, knuckles itching, eyelids heavy.

“Kamal,” he said finally, voice flat as steel. “Do you ever breathe?”

Kamal smirked. “Only when I’m asleep.”

Leo closed his eyes again. Wonderful. Which means he never shuts up while I’m awake.

And still, despite the pounding in his skull and the ache in his muscles, Leo couldn’t shake the tension crawling up his spine. Kamal wasn’t just talking—he was circling. Testing. Waiting for Leo to slip.

The car rolled forward again, into the restless night.

The car rolled smoothly through Istanbul’s veins, but Leo’s instincts caught it the second Kamal’s hands twitched on the wheel. The street signs blurred wrong, the familiar road to his neighborhood slipping behind them like a shadow.

Leo’s eyes opened, narrow and sharp. “You missed the turn.”

Kamal whistled lightly, tapping the wheel. “Did I? Hm. Roads change sometimes, don’t they?”

Leo sat up straighter. His body was lead, but his mind sharpened like a blade. He slid his hand into his bag, fingers brushing over a few scraps—his tape, his water bottle, and then… smooth, cold metal. A pen.

He didn’t hesitate.

With one precise, fluid movement, he leaned forward, pressing the tip against Kamal’s neck just under the jawline. Not deep, but close enough that Kamal’s grin faltered.

Leo’s voice was low, steady. “Didn’t I tell you… to take me home?”

The tension in the car snapped. For a moment, only the hum of the engine filled the silence.

Then Kamal—madman that he was—burst into laughter.

“Leo, Leo, Leo,” he chuckled, shoulders shaking as if he wasn’t a heartbeat away from bleeding. “That’s what I like about you. You don’t bluff. But relax, my friend. I’m not k********g you. Not exactly.”

Leo pressed harder, just enough to make his point. “You have three seconds.”

Kamal tilted his head, neck brushing against the pen’s tip, eyes glittering in the mirror. “There’s a woman who wants to see you.”

The words hung in the air.

Leo blinked once, twice, then leaned back. For a heartbeat he looked ready to snap the pen in two. But instead… he started laughing.

Not the kind of laugh that comes with joy. No. This was sharp, breathless, cracking at the edges. A laugh dragged from exhaustion, pressure, and the sheer insanity of his life.

“A woman,” he said, shaking his head, laughter spilling out again, louder this time. “Of course. Of course there’s a woman. After the fights, the mafia, the spoiled brats at the restaurant—now there’s some crazy woman who wants to see me.”

He wiped his eyes, still laughing, shoulders trembling. “Perfect. Wonderful. Why not? Let’s just add it to the list!”

Kamal watched him with a mix of amusement and satisfaction, steering the car smoothly down the glowing boulevard. “See? You get it. Life doesn’t let you rest, Leo. You’re too interesting for that.”

Leo leaned his head back against the seat, his laugh dying into a low, bitter chuckle. He stared at the ceiling of the car, pen still in his hand, and muttered, “I swear, one day, Kamal… you’ll push me too far.”

Kamal grinned wider, unbothered, as if that was exactly what he wanted.

And the city swallowed them whole, neon lights flickering across Leo’s tired, half-smiling face—like a man trapped between comedy and collapse, heading toward yet another unknown.

After half an hour

The car purred to a stop. Leo opened his eyes and looked out the window. A massive villa loomed in front of him, its white stone walls glowing under the moonlight, iron gates wide open as if welcoming him into a trap.

Leo let out a long, tired sigh. “Of course. A villa. Why not a palace?”

Kamal grinned from ear to ear, tapping the steering wheel. “This is it. She’s waiting for you.”

“She?”

“The woman.” Kamal’s grin widened, like he enjoyed watching Leo’s confusion. “She wants to talk to you. Go on. Be polite. Don’t stab anyone with your pen this time.”

Leo groaned, grabbed his bag, and stepped out. His muscles ached, every step heavier than the last, but he forced himself up the grand marble steps.

The door opened before he could knock.

She stood there—tall, elegant, and probably in her mid-forties. A silk shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair was swept back in a perfect bun. Her eyes scanned Leo quickly, as if measuring him for something.

“Leo,” she said with a smooth, confident smile. “At last. Please, come inside.”

Too tired to argue, Leo followed her into a wide hall filled with expensive rugs, golden frames, and the faint smell of jasmine. He sat on the edge of a velvet armchair, his body stiff, ready to spring if needed.

She gestured to the servant who brought in a silver tray with tea. She poured a cup for him and one for herself.

Leo didn’t touch his. He kept his hands on his knees, eyes fixed on her, silent.

Finally, she sipped her tea and placed the cup down. “I’ll be direct,” she said, leaning slightly forward. “I want you to marry my niece.”

Leo blinked. Slowly. He waited for the punchline. None came.

“…Excuse me?”

“My niece, Zahra,” the woman repeated, her tone casual, as if she were offering him a job. “She told me about you. She likes you. You’ve… made quite an impression.”

For a moment, Leo just stared at her. Then, against his will, a laugh slipped out. He tried to smother it, but exhaustion cracked it open wider. Soon he was chuckling, shoulders shaking.

“You dragged me out of my way,” Leo said, voice low but shaking with laughter, “to… what? Set me up on a marriage proposal?”

The woman arched a brow, unamused. “I wouldn’t call it ‘set up.’ It’s an opportunity.”

Leo rubbed his face, still laughing bitterly. “Lady, I’ve been punched in the face three times tonight, slapped by a drunk at work yesterday, and almost murdered by boredom in Kamal’s car… and now you want me to marry Zahra?”

“Exactly.”

He leaned back, spread his hands. “Unbelievable.”

From the doorway, Kamal smirked like a proud matchmaker. “Told you she was serious.”

Leo glared at him, then back at the woman, still laughing under his breath. Aunties. Mafia. Marriage. What’s next? A circus tiger in my bedroom?

And for the first time in a long time, Leo didn’t know if he should be furious… or just keep laughing until he collapsed.