Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Two
Markus paced Ahmet's bedroom, his boots thudding against the polished floor. Each step was sharp, anxious, a rhythm born from nerves fraying tighter with every unanswered call.
His phone had rung off against his hand more times than he could count, and each vibration that went unanswered tightened a coil in his chest.
He had expected the SOS. He knew Ahmet like he knew the rise and fall of the sun. If anything had gone wrong, the alert would have screamed across his devices. But there was nothing. Nothing except silence.
He checked his schedule again. Every meeting had been cleared, every call deferred, every appointment canceled to make time to see Asli.
Markus had argued, once. Quietly. Carefully. He'd offered to come along, to wait outside, to be close enough if things turned ugly. Ahmet had shut it down with a look that ended discussions. This was his mess. His words to speak. His to fix.
