Girls and prison

The Girl Is Gone

Morning in the palace did not arrive like it should.

There were no sunbeams filtering gently through the curtains.

No soft footsteps of maids.

No scent of breakfast or music in the hallways.

Only silence.

And then—

screaming.

A Shattering Wake-Up

The girls were jolted from sleep not by sunlight, but by the unmistakable sound of a door being slammed open so hard the hinges cried.

“UP!” a guard barked. “NOW!”

Sirin was on her feet before her eyes opened. Her instincts never slept.

Noor pulled the blanket to her chest.

“What is it—what happened?

Judy was already spoke a few words in different languages, clearly insulting the guards.

“This better not be another fake inspection.”

But it wasn’t.

Shams whimpered softly. She had slept curled on the floor beside the velvet couch.

“Where’s Aya…?” she whispered.

And suddenly—

The world tilted.

The Realization

Sirin turned sharply.

Aya’s bed: empty.

Blankets: untouched.

Pillow: cold.

She wasn’t in the bathroom.

Not by the window.

Not anywhere.

Judy’s voice dropped.

“No. No way.”

“She didn’t—” Shams began.

Sirin’s whisper cut through the air like a blade:

“She ran.”

Emotions Collide

The room erupted.

Judy: pacing, fists in her hair. “I told her! I told her not to play hero!”

Shams: near tears. “What if they catch her? What if they already did?”

Noor: frozen, silent. Lips moving but no sound coming out.

Sirin: punching the wall. Hard. Over and over.

“She should’ve told me. I would’ve gone with her. I would’ve helped.”

And then—

The world fell darker.

He Arrives

Footsteps.

Measured. Heavy. Expensive.

The kind of footsteps that don't belong to anyone... except him.

The door opened without a knock.

He entered.

Lara’s husband.

The man whose name no one said.

The Tension in the Room

He didn’t shout.

That was worse.

He stepped in, eyes like glass, and simply looked around.

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Guards stood behind him, rifles slung across their chests.

The girls didn’t dare move.

“One of you,” he said softly, “forgot what happens to birds who try to fly.”

He turned to Lara, who stood in the corner—already dressed, composed, but pale.

“And one of you…” he said, “…forgot who built the cage.”

Lara’s voice was cold. “She acted alone.”

“No one acts alone in this palace.”

Shams suddenly spoke.

“Please… don’t hurt her. She’s just a girl. She didn’t know—”

“She slapped me,” he said, interrupting. “I assure you… she knew.”

He turned to the guards.

“Search the forest. Every road. Every friend. Every whisper. I want her back.”

His eyes met Judy’s.

“And if she isn’t back before midnight… someone else will pay her price.”

Noor

I told her not to rebel. But she had fire. And fire always burns the one who lit it first.

Sirin

You should’ve told me, Aya. We could’ve made it together. Now I can’t protect you.

Shams

She was the only one who still believed in the outside world.

Judy

She ran. While I sat here and laughed. And now she’s alone out there — or worse.

The door slammed shut behind him.

And in the silence that followed, the girls sat together.

Breathing.

Waiting.

Grieving.

Because Aya was gone.

And the palace… was about to bleed.

elsewhere

Aya was falling apart.

Not physically — not yet — but deep inside her chest, something had started to split.

She had been running for hours.

Her legs were trembling.

Her lungs were made of broken glass.

Her feet — raw and bleeding from branches and gravel — could barely carry her anymore.

The sun had risen, but Aya felt no warmth.

Only fear.

And the sense that she had gone so far off the map .

She stumbled out of the trees, hand pressed against her ribs, trying to keep her breath steady.

And there it was.

A warehouse.

Huge. Gray. Abandoned-looking.

Except… it wasn’t abandoned.

The metal walls pulsed faintly with electricity.

The air smelled of chemicals and rot.

Aya’s instincts screamed — but her body didn’t care.

Just five minutes of rest, she told herself. Just five.

She pushed the rusted side door.

It opened.

No alarms. No voices.

She stepped into the darkness.

It wasn’t a storage building.

It was a labyrinth.

Rows upon rows of crates.

Glass bottles, stacked and labeled in codes she didn’t understand.

Strange machines humming softly in the corners.

This isn’t a warehouse.

It’s a drug facility.

Aya’s blood turned cold.

Everywhere she looked, she saw signs — chemical warnings, instructions in Turkish, Russian, Arabic.

And cameras.

Too many cameras.

She froze.

They’ve seen me.

in a small control room, behind walls Aya couldn’t see, a man was already barking orders into a phone.

“We have a breach. Female. Late teens. Check the woods — she must’ve come from the north trail.”

And on one of the monitors, Aya's image moved like a ghost — small, tired, but dangerously alive.

The Spark

Aya backed up into a crate.

Her fingers shook.

Then she remembered:

Her lighter.

The silver one she carried everywhere.

It wasn’t just a habit — it was the only thing left from her brother. He had given it to her before he disappeared.

She clutched it like a weapon.

Then… something clicked in her head.

A barrel had fallen nearby. It was leaking.

She sniffed the air.

Ethanol.

Flammable.

The Decision

They’ll find me anyway.

They’ll kill me.

Her eyes scanned the room.

Unless I make them pay first.

Her hand closed around the lighter.

She took a deep breath.

Closed her eyes.

And lit it.

A small flame.

A quiet flame.

She didn’t throw it immediately.

She walked.

Step by step… trailing it close to the leaking barrel.

And when the guards’ voices rose from outside—

When the footsteps got too close—

She looked at the fire.

“If I’m going down,” she whispered,

“then I’ll make it unforgettable .I will make them fall with me .I will burn them with me .”

She dropped the flame.

The Explosion

The sound was not a bang.

It was a roar.

A deep, monstrous explosion that shook the trees.

Flames erupted through the metal walls.

Aya was thrown backwards, hitting a wall, her body curling instinctively to protect her face from the heat.

The warehouse — the drugs, the crates, the empire inside — was burning.

And Aya?

Aya crawled out the back, coughing, eyes red, skin scorched but alive.

She didn’t look back.

She couldn’t.

But behind her—

The sky turned orange.

Smoke curled into the clouds .

Somewhere deep in the city, a man in a suit poured his coffee... then stopped.

A red alarm blinked on his phone. One word:

Warehouse 07. Destroyed.

And beside it—

a blurry screenshot of a girl with wild hair, ash on her cheek, and a lighter in her hand.

Aya.

The cuffs clicked around her wrists

Aya didn’t flinch.

Her knees hit the dirt. Her arms were yanked behind her back. her cheek streaked with ash. Blood dripped from her elbow where the glass had caught her.

But her eyes—

Her eyes were fire.

Not fear.

Not regret.

Just fire.

Caught, But Not Defeated

One of the guards kicked at the dirt near her.

“Do you know what you’ve done?”

Aya tilted her head.

She smiled. A slow, dangerous smile.

“Yes,” she said. “I burned it.”

The guard spat near her feet.

“We should kill you right now.”

Aya leaned toward him.

“Then do it. But make sure your boss watches when you fail to break me.”

The other guards exchanged nervous glances.

Because this girl — this barefoot, trembling, nineteen-year-old girl — had just leveled a multi-million dollar empire with a lighter and her rage.

And now… the entire mafia was shaking.

in The Car

They threw her into the back of a black armored vehicle. Her hands still bound. Her ankles bleeding.

The smoke from the warehouse still choked the air behind them.

She could see the fire in the rearview mirror.

Burning. Beautiful.

And Aya?

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the leather seat.

I hope it burns all the way to their throne.

and now The Call

Miles away, in a skyscraper kissed by storm clouds, a phone rang.

He answered on the second ring.

Lara’s husband didn’t speak — he listened.

The voice on the other end trembled.

“Sir… it’s gone. Warehouse 07. The girl. The one who escaped.”

“Alive?” he asked, flatly.

“Caught. Bruised. But yes… alive.”

Silence.

“And the damage?”

“Everything. Destroyed.”

He hung up without a word.

Then turned to the man in the shadowed corner of the room.

Slick black suit. Steel eyes. A scar across his chin.

The second man said only one thing:

“Send me.”

Back at the palace, the marble floors shook with noise.

A helicopter was preparing to land.

The guards were tense. The girls in the velvet room were silent. Even Lara stood still, one hand pressed to the glass as the wind blew her hair across her cheek.

Judy whispered:

“They caught her.”

Sirin’s jaw clenched.

“God help them.”

Shams began to cry. Noor held her hand.

Outside, the blades sliced through the air. The storm had arrived.

Lara’s husband was here.

And he wasn’t alone.

In the back of the armored car, Aya opened her swollen eye to the sound of the landing chopper.

She heard the guards mutter. Heard the panic. The fear. The scuffling.

She smiled again.

Good.

Let them come.

Let those bastards know

They kidn*pped the wrong girl.