Girls and prison

the mom

Aya’s lungs still ached from the run.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed her back to the cold steel of the container. The water behind her glimmered under the half-moon. Somewhere, a foghorn moaned in the distance.

Footsteps approached. Slow. Calculated.

Yavuz’s silhouette appeared from the mist of the racetrack behind them, hands in pockets, posture relaxed — too relaxed.

“You didn’t have to run, little fox,” he said, tilting his head.

“I just wanted to talk.”

Aya didn’t answer. Her fingers tightened at her sides. Her eyes darted toward the right — calculating escape routes. But her body was still frozen with adrenaline.

Yavuz took another step forward.

“Aya—”

“Take another step and I swear I’ll break your face!”

A sharp voice came

Aya gasped.

Yavuz turned — eyebrows slightly raised.

From between two parked race vans, Judy came bursting in, panting, fierce, wild-eyed — like a storm in black boots.She saw Aya running through the crowd and followed her.

She stormed up, grabbing Aya’s wrist, tugging her behind her like a child. Her white fox mask was pushed up on her head, revealing her flushed, furious face.

“Don’t you dare talk to her,” she hissed at Yavuz, standing between him and Aya.

Yavuz blinked, amused.

“You again,” he said coolly. “I was wondering when you'd show up. Always one step behind.”

“Better late than never,” Judy growled. “Unlike you, I don’t stalk people across racetracks.”

“I wasn’t stalking. I was curious.”

“Curious is when you Google someone. Not when you chase her across Istanbul like a creep.”

Aya stood behind Judy, eyes wide, still catching her breath.

“I just wanted to talk,” Yavuz said again, this time addressing Aya directly. “Not to harm. Not to threaten. Just… ask something.”

“You don’t get to ask anything,” Judy snapped.

“Oh?” Yavuz raised an eyebrow. “And you’re her guard dog now?”

Judy took a step closer, her voice low and dangerous.

“No. I’m her sister. In every way that matters. And I don’t trust anyone with a Demir face.”

That one hit.

Yavuz’s smile faltered for half a second. Just long enough for Judy to grab Aya’s hand and say:

“We’re done here.”

And with that, she dragged Aya back into the crowd — their silhouettes swallowed by the chaos of Istanbul’s underworld once again.

Behind them, Yavuz stood alone, eyes still on the spot where the two girls disappeared.

He said nothing.

But for the first time that night…

He looked disappointed.

..

The drive back was quiet. Too quiet.

Judy’s grip on the steering wheel was tight — her jaw clenched, her eyes locked on the road ahead like she was trying to outrun her own heartbeat. Beside her, Aya sat in silence, still processing everything.

“He didn’t touch you, right?” Judy asked suddenly.

Aya shook her head.

“No. He just… he scared me.”

Judy muttered something under her breath in Arabic.

“Demir’s brother. Of course. Same poison. Different bottle.”

Just as they turned onto the quiet street near Judy’s apartment, headlights flashed behind them.

Bright. Close. Unsettling.

“Seriously?” Judy muttered.

The car behind them accelerated.

Then cut them off—swerving ahead and stopping sideways, blocking the street.

Judy slammed the brakes. The tires screeched.

“Stay in the car,” Judy growled.

“Judy—”

“Stay.”

She jumped out and slammed the door behind her.

From the black car ahead, Yavuz stepped out. Calm, collected, hands in his pockets, hair slightly tousled from the wind.

“I’m not here to kidnap anyone,” he said. “I’m not even here to fight. I just want to talk to Aya.”

“You don’t get to talk to her,” Judy snapped. “Not after you chased her through a race crowd like a psycho.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh, you mean the part where she was running for her life while you smiled like a Bond villain wasn’t creepy?”

“I just went to ask a question!”

Judy stepped closer.

“Here’s my answer—go back to whatever mafia rat hole you crawled out of. And stay there.”

Yavuz’s face tightened.

“Don’t speak like you know me.”

“I know enough. You wear the same mask as your brother.”

“And yet,” he said, voice dropping, “you brought her into that world, didn’t you? You were the one racing. Not me.”

That hit hard.

Judy took a sharp step forward—close enough to push him if she wanted to.

“Say that again,” she said, low and dangerous.

“You heard me,” Yavuz replied.

Before the tension could explode—

The car door opened.

Aya stepped out, her black mask in her hand, her eyes wide but steady.

“Stop it,” she said. “Both of you.”

Judy turned immediately.

“Aya—get back in the car.”

“okay.”

Judy's tone was sharp, so there was no point in discussing it.

Judy’s eyes narrowed instantly.

“If you’re here to talk about Aya, the answer is no. She’s free now. We both are.”

Yavuz exhaled slowly, his tone even.

“This isn’t about taking her back. I’m not my brother. You know that.”

Judy didn’t respond. He took a step closer, voice quieter now.

“My mother… she’s been asking to meet her.”

Judy blinked.

Once.

Then narrowed her eyes.

“Your mother? Since when do you bring innocent girls to meet your mafia queen?”

Yavuz looked straight at her.

“Since Demir started changing.”

Judy’s chest rose and fell with sudden tension.

“Yavuz…” she warned.

But he cut her off gently.

“You know it. I know it. He’s different around her. He won’t say it, but I see it. And you see it too.”

The silence was thick.

Then he said it.

“You know Demir loves Aya.”

The words fell.

Judy flinched, but not from the storm — from the truth.

“No,” she said sharply, shaking her head. “That’s not love. Not his kind. Demir doesn’t love. He possesses.”

Yavuz stepped closer again, voice lower.

“He’s never been like this, Judy. He’s never let anyone talk back, hit him, defy him — and still… let them walk away. You saw it. .

Judy clenched her fists.

“And what? You want to take her to meet the woman who raised that monster? For what — tea and trauma?”

Yavuz didn’t blink.

“She wants to meet the girl who changed her son.”

“It’s impossible,” Judy hissed. “Aya won’t go. I won’t let her.”

The wind picked up, sweeping Judy’s hoodie back slightly. Her eyes were burning now.

“Do you want your brother to snap?! To realize he can’t control his feelings and take it out on her? You think love makes him weak? No — it makes him dangerous.”

Yavuz was quiet for a moment. Then he said, softly:

“Maybe. Or maybe she’s the only thing keeping him from becoming worse.”

Judy turned her back on him, voice cold.

“She’s not meeting your mother. Not now. Not ever. Don’t come to her. Don’t tell her. Let her live. For once, let her live in peace.”

Rain soaked through her sleeves, but she didn’t care. The storm wasn’t outside — it was all inside her now.

Behind her, Yavuz stood still, jaw tight. But he didn’t argue.

After that, Yavuz, Judy, and Aya went home, and Aya did not ask Judy that night about what Yavuz had said until a few days had passed.

It was a quiet evening at the little restaurant where Aya worked — the kind of peaceful lull that came before the dinner rush. The scent of grilled lamb and roasted peppers filled the air, and Aya was wiping down a table near the window when she glanced up.

“Hey, Judy?” she called softly, “can I ask you something?”

Judy didn’t look up from the register.

“Hmm?”

Aya hesitated, twisting the edge of the cloth in her hands.

“What did Yavuz say to you? That night behind the restaurant?”

Judy stilled.

Then she smiled faintly — but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Nothing important,” she said quickly. “Just… stuff about Demir. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Aya tilted her head, unconvinced.

“Judy.”

Judy turned, finally meeting her eyes. Her voice was soft, but firm.

“I don’t want to pressure you into things you’re not ready for, Aya. So let’s just say… it’s better left alone.”

Aya held her gaze for a moment, then gave a slow nod.

“Okay.”

But the question didn’t leave her mind.

Three days later.

The restaurant door opened with a gentle jingle.

Aya was behind the counter when she saw her: a woman, tall and poised, her posture elegant as if she belonged in a palace — not on a rainy Istanbul street. Her hair was silver, coiled neatly at the back of her head, her features stunning — regal, but sharp. Like she’d seen too many wars and had chosen to win them all.

She wore a long dark coat, and a silver ring that looked like it could unlock a vault… or a secret.

Her eyes scanned the room slowly, deliberately.

Aya blinked. Something about the woman made the air shift.

Judy stepped out from the kitchen—and stopped cold.

“Oh no,” she muttered under her breath.

Aya frowned.

“You know her?”

Judy didn’t answer. But her posture stiffened like a soldier under inspection.

The woman’s gaze landed on Aya. Her lips curled into something that could have been a smile — but was far too subtle to be called warm.

She walked forward with graceful steps and said in a voice smooth like silk… and laced with steel:

“You must be Aya.”

Aya froze.

Judy stepped forward quickly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in Turkish, low and tense.

The woman glanced at her.

“Just meeting someone my son keeps dreaming about.”

Aya blinked.

“Your… son?”

The woman’s eyes twinkled slightly.

“Let’s just say… I’ve been very curious about the girl who made Demir soft.”

The restaurant went silent.

Aya felt the weight of those words settle on her like thunderclouds.

Demir… soft?

Judy stepped between them instinctively.

“Whatever you're planning, leave her out of it.”

The woman tilted her head, calm and dangerous.

“I’m not here to threaten anyone, Judith. I just wanted to see her. That’s all. A mother’s curiosity.”

Aya’s heart pounded.

Because in that moment, she knew —

This woman wasn’t just a mother.

She was the origin of all storms.