Suddenly, her phone buzzed again in her pocket. She pulled it out to see a new message, a file, and a video were waiting for her. A mix of curiosity and anxiety washed over her as she tapped to open it, not knowing what to expect.
She quickly opened the video message, her hand shaking with nerves. On the screen, Ayla was tied to a steel chair, her wrists and ankles bound tightly. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her lips trembled as she spoke. Her shirt had been ripped off, leaving her bare chest visible except for her bra. The room behind her was dark and industrial, with concrete walls and a single low light swinging above, casting eerie shadows.
Her voice cracked as she pleaded, "Aylin… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be seen. I thought we were safe. Please don't come. They'll hurt you. They'll kill you."
Out of the corner of the screen, a shadow shifted—someone's shoulder moved into view, dark and menacing. He reached out, not to comfort her, but to take ownership.
