Aylin paced around Zayden's sleek office, gripping the encrypted burner phone like it was her only lifeline. Her golden-brown eyes shifted over to Zayden, who was sitting in his leather chair, watching her with that intense blue gaze that always made her heart skip a beat. He nodded once, giving her a little push of encouragement.
Taking a deep breath, Aylin hit dial.
In Istanbul, Ayla was lounging on her comfy couch, scrolling through her phone mindlessly, when an unknown number popped up. The ringtone caught her off guard, and her heart raced. Not again. Memories rushed back: the auction hall, blood, screams. Two years of therapy, and she still felt those shadows hanging over her. She stared at the screen, her hands trembling. Just answer it. Be brave.
"Hello?" Ayla whispered, her voice shaky.
"Heyyy! How are you?"
Ayla froze. That voice sounded so familiar—impossible. Her sister. "Aylin?"
