PRIVATE PROPERTY: A Dark Romantic Novel

CHAPTER 2:

Being dragged to the "back room" wasn't just a figure of speech. Raha was hauled through the cold corridors of the warehouse, her bare feet leaving faint smears of blood on the concrete. She didn't scream. She had exhausted her voice; all that remained within her were the embers of a rage that refused to die.

She was shoved violently into a spacious office-turned-interrogation room. She fell to her knees, gasping. In the center, behind an ancient wooden desk, sat Demir Kurt. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing an intricate tattoo coiled around his left forearm like a black viper. In this setting, he looked even more predatory than he had outside.

He didn’t look at her. He was pouring himself a glass of whiskey with agonizing slowness, the amber liquid hitting the glass being the only sound daring enough to break the silence.

With a swift, flicking motion of his hand, he dismissed his guards. She was alone with him. She lifted her head, her body shivering from the cold, but her eyes were ablaze. Demir took a sip, then circled the desk. His heavy footsteps were slow and deliberate—like the ticking of a clock announcing an execution. He stopped in front of her, his towering shadow swallowing her whole.

"Who sent you?" he asked in a low, nerve-wracking calm. He leaned in slightly, his black eyes piercing through her defenses. "The Soykan family? Iranian Intelligence? Speak before I grow bored of this game."

Raha stared into his handsome, cruel face. She saw in him the same arrogance that filled Jalal’s life, the same gaze that viewed women as mere "objects." She spat out her words, her voice sounding like the hiss of a cornered cat: "I am no one’s spy... and I am not a pawn in your filthy wars."

Demir smiled, but it wasn't a friendly one. He reached out and, with a quick, harsh motion, gripped her jaw, his long fingers squeezing to force her face upward.

"A fugitive from Tehran, wearing the crest of the most powerful mafia family there, hiding in a weapons truck... and you expect me to believe the 'innocent girl' story?" He leaned closer until his breath, laced with tobacco, fanned her face. "You are lying... and your eyes are betraying you."

In that moment, hatred shattered the barrier of fear. She jerked her head violently to free herself from his grip and looked directly into his eyes with a defiance he hadn't expected.

"I am not lying! I fled because I refused to be sold like a slave... I thought I would find humans here..." She paused, raking him with a look of pure contempt—from his perfect hair to his polished shoes—before delivering her final verdict: "But I was wrong. I’ve fallen into the hands of just another bastard. The only difference is that you wear a more expensive suit."

The air in the room froze. Demir didn't explode. He didn't shout. Something worse happened. His features went completely still. His eyes turned into slabs of ice. That coldness was more terrifying than any scream. He stepped closer and leaned down to whisper in her ear, a sound that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

"A bastard? Believe me, little one, if I were the bastard you think I am, you’d be begging for a death you wouldn’t find."

He straightened up, brushing his hand as if flicking the dust of her words away. Then, with lethal boredom, he turned his back on her. "Kenan!"

His massive assistant entered immediately. "Take her to the old warehouse. Leave her there until morning... Annoying rats need the darkness to learn their true size."

Raha was dragged out. She looked back and saw Demir returning to his desk, pouring another glass, as indifferent to her fate as if she were a crushed insect. That indifference... was the fuel that ignited her madness. I won't die here. Not at the hands of this arrogant man.

She was thrown into a small, damp storage room that reeked of rot. The door slammed shut, and the footsteps faded. She didn't waste a single second on tears. Wiping her eyes with her torn sleeve, she began scanning the space like a caged animal. Stacked crates... ropes... and suddenly, she saw it. A tiny ventilation window high on the wall, covered by a corroded iron mesh.

With frantic speed, she climbed the crates. The iron resisted; she sliced her palms, and warm blood ran down her arms, but the adrenaline made her numb. "Move... move, you damn thing!" She kicked the mesh with all her desperation until it gave way and fell outside. She squeezed her slender frame through the narrow opening. Her waist scraped against the rough stone, her shirt tore further, but she kept crawling until she tumbled onto the wet grass of the back alley.

The cold air hit her face. The scent of freedom! She didn't wait. She ran. She ran as she had never run before, barefoot in the dark alleys of Istanbul. Gravel and glass cut her feet, but her heart was beating the drums of victory. I survived... I escaped the Devil. She thought she had outsmarted the Mafia. She didn't know that fate was hiding a dark irony at the end of the street.

After minutes of hysterical running, she reached a quiet side road. She stopped to catch her breath, leaning against a dim lamppost. Suddenly... a black van swerved out of nowhere, cutting her off with a terrifying screech of tires. Raha froze. She turned to run the other way, only to find a second car blocking her path.

It was an ambush. The car door opened slowly. No Turkish guards stepped out. A man wearing a long coat emerged, calmly flipping a string of yellow amber beads in his hand. Under the yellow light of the post, she saw his face. That slimy smile. The eyes that gleamed with sick malice.

"Jalal."

Raha’s heart stopped. Time stood still. "Raha..." He spoke her name as if savoring a piece of candy. "Did you think you could hide from your own shadow?"

She backed away, shaking her head hysterically, in disbelief. "No... impossible... how?"

Jalal laughed, a cold laugh that crawled like snakes under her skin. "Money buys everything, cousin... even eyes that watch weapon shipments in Istanbul."

He signaled his men. They pounced on her. This time, she didn't fight. The shock paralyzed her limbs. How could she fight when she realized the whole world was complicit against her? Jalal grabbed her by the hair and pulled her pale face toward him. There was no love, only a sick desire for possession. "Time to come home."

He brought his hand down in a brutal blow to her temple. Pain exploded in her head, and the image of the dark street vanished.

Consciousness returned slowly, and with it, the pain returned twofold. She was lying on the back seat of the car, tightly bound. The air was stiflingly warm, and the heavy scent of Jalal’s cologne filled the space, making her nauseous. She looked out the window with half-closed eyes. Signboards flashed by. Farsi words... The Border. She let out a muffled gasp of horror. She tried to move, but the restraints were crushing her wrists. Jalal turned from the front seat. He was looking at her with a wide, triumphant grin, his eyes tracing her exhausted and bloodied body with disgusting lewdness. He reached back and wound a lock of her hair tightly around his finger.

"Welcome back to hell, my bride... The cellar is ready, and the party is waiting for its guest of honor."

Raha closed her eyes, a hot tear burning her cheek. In that moment, she remembered Demir’s coldness. She remembered his insult. And she wished, with every fiber of her broken being, that she had never escaped that warehouse. Because what awaited her now with Jalal was something even Demir wouldn’t have the heart to imagine.