ATLAS'S HAND

Morning came to the mansion as quietly as snow. Mert was still on his feet outside the door. He had not slept — sleep was not an option for him anymore, but tonight his wakefulness had a different quality. This was a guardian's watch. Inside, Selin and little Murat were sleeping. Outside, a trap was being assembled in the dark. Kerem woke at four in the morning. When he found Mert in the corridor he didn't stop — he just touched his shoulder briefly as he passed. That touch meant: I'm here. They both understood. At six, Kerem's phone rang. He looked at the screen and his face went to stone. "Mert," he said, low and precise. "Last night one of Atlas's people did a circuit of the neighbourhood. Security cameras picked it up. Professional surveillance. Not one person — at least three." M