Mehmet was at home when he checked his phone—five missed calls from Sarah and a message. He frowned, then read it.
Sarah...
He called her back, but her phone was off. He dialed the guards assigned to her.
"What are you doing? Where is Sarah?" he yelled.
"Sir, we were about to tell you—we're tracking the car."
"Fuck you all! Where are you?" he shouted.
"Sharing the location now, sir."
"Follow that car. If she gets a single scratch, I'll make you beg for death!"
"Why are you stuck here? Mehmet asked, looking at the location.
"Traffic signal sir, " a voice informed him.
"Break the fucking signal or I'll break your neck" he barked.
He grabbed his coat and keys, storming out. The slam of the door shook the walls. Within minutes, his black car tore through the Istanbul streets, headlights carving through the night. His convoy of four joined him on the highway, their engines howling as one.
Mehmet's grip on the wheel was bone-white, his scar catching the flicker of passing lights.
Please, Sarah… hold on.
The Warehouse
Sarah's breaths came uneven, her wrists raw against the rope. She fought every second against the haze of the spray in her lungs. The men's laughter echoed around her.
"Pretty little bird," one sneered. "The boss will like her."
Her chin lifted, eyes blazing despite the tears. "When he comes—and he will—you'll wish you never touched me."
The man smirked, twisting a lock of her hair in his fist. "Your Mehmet can't save you tonight."
Then…..
A sound.
Engines. Multiple.
The screech of tires outside, followed by the bone-shaking crash of a gate being torn open. Headlights flared through the cracks in the broken warehouse doors, cutting the shadows into shreds.
Sarah's heart leapt.
The doors burst inward.
A black car slid to a halt, snow spraying under its wheels. Four more vehicles behind it.
And then—him.
Mehmet stepped out like he owned the darkness. Black coat whipping in the wind, eyes ablaze, gun loose in his hand like an extension of himself.
The men froze.
Two lunged at him—didn't make it past his guards. The thud of bodies hitting the floor echoed.
Mehmet didn't even glance. His boots struck the concrete steadily, deliberately, each step reverberating like a countdown.
He kicked the first inner door open, metal squealing. His silence was more terrifying than shouts.
Then he saw her.
Sarah, tied to the chair, tears streaking her face. A man crouched beside her, hand in her hair, a gun pressed to her temple.
"Stay back!" the man barked, voice shaking.
Mehmet didn't blink.
One clean shot rang out. The bullet tore through the man's leg.
He screamed, dropping the gun. Sarah flinched but her eyes locked instantly on Mehmet.
Mehmet was across the room in three strides. He slammed the man against the wall, grip like iron around his collar. The plaster cracked behind him.
"How dare you touch her," Mehmet growled, his voice low, lethal.
The man whimpered, clutching his bleeding leg. Mehmet twisted his wrist until it snapped with a sickening crack.
"Take him," Mehmet ordered his men without looking away from Sarah. "I want names."
The man was dragged out, screaming.
Now—only silence. Her shaky breaths. His steady ones.
Sarah's body trembled, but the moment his eyes locked onto hers, her legs finally gave way. She stumbled forward, and he caught her instantly.
She buried her face against his chest, sobbing, clutching his coat like her life depended on it.
"I called you… you didn't come…" she whispered, broken.
His arms tightened around her, protective, fierce. "I'm here now. You're safe."
Her tears soaked his shirt. His hand brushed them away, gentler than she thought he could be.
Her breathing slowed, his steadiness.
"I'm here now. You're safe." His voice was quieter now, but the danger in him hadn't left—she could feel it in the way his muscles were still tight.
"I thought they'd send me somewhere—"
"It's over," he said softly, brushing her damp hair back from her face.
"Don't cry," he added, his tone almost pleading. "Not in front of me."
Her breath trembled. He stayed steady. And in that cold, dark warehouse, the air between them carried both relief… and a silent promise of what would happen to anyone who touched her again.
"You can walk?" He asked softly and Sarah nodded, still shaking.
He led her out, hand in hand, shielding her.
"Wait here," he said, opening the car door.
"No! Don't leave me," she clung to him.
"Trust me. You're safe," he gently said, patting her head softly.
She shook her head, holding his arm. And he froze this time.
"Okay. I'm staying," he finally said.
She nodded, and he wrapped his coat around her.
"I called you, but you didn't answer," she said.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, brushing her cheek.
"Can I go for a minute now?" he asked.
She studied his forehead scar, then whispered, "Come back soon."
He nodded.
She sat in his car, wrapped in his coat, when gunshots rang out—seven in total.
Mehmet...
She tried to get out, but the doors were locked.
Then she saw him walking back, fire in his eyes, softening when he saw her.
"Are you okay?" Sarah asked.
"Yes. Are you?"
She nodded.
"Eric?" she asked.
His expression darkened.
"What about him?"
"That man said you called me and Eric to a restaurant. I tried calling him, but his phone was off."
Mehmet called someone, speaking in Turkish.
"They'll find him. He's fine," he said flatly.
"My phone was in that car," Sarah said.
Mehmet handed it back.
She wiped her face and saw his guards dragging two men away.
"What will you do with them?"
"Nothing," he said.
A man lunged at the car. Mehmet shot him in the arm.
"You'll regret this!"
"You'll beg for death," Mehmet growled.
He turned back to Sarah, forcing calm.
"Drink this," he handed her water.
"I don't want it."
"Please."
A tear rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away.
"Take me home," she whispered.
He nodded.
She fell asleep as the car moved. Mehmet watched her, his expression unreadable.
You're the air I breathe.