The air around the charred villa was thick with smoke and ash, the scent of burnt wood clinging to Leon's clothes. His boots crunched over blackened debris as his men sifted through the ruins, searching for any trace of her.
He'd been at it for hours, his jaw locked, mind running through the worst possibilities. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the cliff, waves smashing against jagged rocks below—every sound felt like a taunt.
Then his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Unknown number.
He almost didn't answer—until a faint, shaky voice said his name.
"Leon… it's me. I'm safe."
For a moment, his body froze. The world went silent except for her voice, fragile but alive. He didn't waste time asking questions. The only thing that mattered was where she was.
She told him. He didn't even end the call properly—just shoved the phone into his pocket, barking orders for his men to keep searching for anything useful before he sprinted for his car.
The drive was a blur—his knuckles white around the wheel, eyes fixed on the road, every red light an insult.
When he reached the small fishing pier she'd described, the sight of her hit him like a punch to the chest. She sat on an overturned crate, wrapped in a worn fisherman's blanket, hair damp and messy from the sea. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, as though part of her was still lost out there.
"Ayla," he called, his voice low but urgent.
Her head turned, disbelief flashing in her eyes before relief overtook it. She stood too fast, the blanket slipping from her shoulders, and he was already moving, crossing the pier in long, determined strides.
He didn't stop until he was right in front of her, until his hands were on her shoulders, grounding her. "I thought—" His voice broke for the first time in years. "I thought I lost you."
She didn't speak at first. She just threw her arms around him, holding on like she never wanted to let go.
Her voice was muffled against his chest when she finally spoke. "I'm so sorry, Leon… for choosing him over you. I should have listened, I should have known…" Her shoulders trembled. "You still came for me, even after everything. I don't deserve that."
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his own gaze sharp but softening at the edges. "Don't ever say that. You're here, you're alive—that's all that matters to me."
A watery smile curved her lips. "Thank you… for saving me."
"You won't have to thank me," he said, his voice low and certain, "because I'm not letting you out of my sight again."