Kerem Dinçer
I turned off the engine and leaned back in my seat. The day I'd been waiting for over eight months had finally arrived. I was sure that nothing—and no one—would stand in my way tonight. I'd have that meeting, and within an hour, I'd have answers to every question that had been haunting me.
I got out of the car and walked forward without caring about the sharp wind hitting my face. I slipped my hands into my coat pockets, shifted my weight onto one leg, and leaned against the hood. As I stared at the sea, faintly lit by moonlight, a memory surfaced, and I closed my eyes wearily.
Dragging her into this had been the stupidest mistake of my life.
I still couldn't believe a damn TV show had managed to turn my life upside down like this. I wasn't someone who lost his temper easily. But that day, it was as if she knew exactly what to say—like she'd chosen her words on purpose to hit a nerve. In an instant, all my logic had vanished.
From that moment on, the only thing I could think about was making her regret what she'd said. Making sure she'd never even consider a thought like that again.
The plan had been simple. I was supposed to scare her a little. Show her how precious that calm, peaceful life she found boring actually was. That was it. But things spiraled so far out of control that, without even thinking, I found myself kissing her.
Now, her life was in far more danger than mine.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I opened my eyes, sighed, and checked the message. The moment the photo loaded, I frowned.
"Once I deal with this problem, the first thing I'm doing is leaving permanent damage on that smug dancer kid's face."
I shut the image with irritation and slipped the phone back into my pocket.
I started walking toward the fisherman's shack a short distance away. I reminded myself to focus on the matter at hand. I pushed the image—and those brown eyes shining with happiness—deep into the back of my mind.
When I reached the shack and saw that no one had arrived yet, I leaned my back against the locked door and waited.
After half an hour, my phone buzzed again. Hoping it was the call I'd been waiting for, I pulled it out. An unknown number—as usual. That meant it had to be him.
"Hello?"
"How are you, little Kerem?"
Definitely not who I was expecting.
"Who is this?"
"You can call me the Teacher," he said. "Considering I'm about to give you the lesson of your life."
The mockery dripping from his voice set my teeth on edge.
"I don't know what kind of nonsense you're talking about, but I don't have time for this." I was about to hang up when his next words made me freeze.
"Oh, that's rude. Hanging up without even saying hello to your girlfriend?"
God. No. No, no, no. Please don't let this be what I think it is.
"What are you talking about? I don't have a girlfriend!"
He let out a tired, mocking sigh.
"You kids and your complicated relationships. Your boyfriend needs to hear your voice, sweetheart. Go on. Talk."
"You brainless psycho! How many times do I have to tell you—he's not my boyfriend!"
"Duru?"
If there was anything worse than his mocking tone, it was his mocking laughter.
"Looks like the light finally came on, little Kerem. Now let's get back to business. When I warned you not to meet that man, I made it very clear that if you didn't listen, I'd come after your girlfriend. Not you—"
"Do you have any idea how low your IQ is?" she snapped. "I keep telling you he's not my boyfriend! Aaah!"
"Duru! Are you okay? Duru?"
"If you interrupt me one more time, sweetheart, you won't get away with just a scratch!"
I felt panic creeping in and forced myself to take a deep breath.
"Listen. Your problem is with me. She has nothing to do with this. She doesn't even know what I'm looking for."
"Exactly," he said calmly. "I've always liked tragic endings better. Not knowing why you're dying—poetic, isn't it, beautiful?"
That sentence shattered what little calm I had left. Rage and fear flooded my mind at the same time, and I clenched my jaw.
"If you hurt her, I swear to you—I'll find you wherever you are and make you beg me to let you die."
He answered with the same mocking laugh, followed by a sigh.
"That's all you've got? Honestly, I expected better from you. You've disappointed me, little Kerem. I should hang up now. Keeping such a sexy woman waiting would be rude. Say goodbye to your boyfriend."
"God, he's still calling him my boyfriend," she snapped. "Were you a turkey in your past life or something?"
"You really don't know when to shut up, do you? Goodbye, little Kerem."
I was walking away from the shack, heading back to my car, when a shrill scream pierced the air.
"Kerem—!"
My blood ran cold.
"Duru? Duru, answer me!"
The line went dead. I stared at the phone for two seconds, frozen, then immediately dialed another number and started the car. No answer. I hung up and tried the next number. Still nothing.
Now I understood how he'd gotten to Duru so easily. He must've found my men.
There was only one person left to call.
"Kerem?"
"Feyza. Where's Duru?"
"She's at the party with us, of course. But she's not next to me right now. Why?"
"Text me your location. Now. Then go find Duru. Hurry."
"What happened? What's wrong?"
"There's no time to explain. Just do what I said. Immediately."
"Okay—but this better be for a good reason."
Seconds later, the address came through. I slammed my foot on the gas. Thank God they weren't far. If I drove fast enough, I could reach them in ten minutes—maybe less.
I didn't even bother parking. I left the keys in the car and rushed inside. Familiar voices echoed from the left wing of the entrance. I followed them.
I pushed through the crowd gathered in front of the restroom door. Feyza and Aylin stood there, staring at each other in panic. Feyza grabbed my arm the moment she saw me.
"Kerem, what's going on? We tried to get in, but the door's locked. Duru isn't answering no matter how much we call out."
I yanked the handle and threw my weight against the door, but it wasn't opening.
"Mete went to find someone who can open it," Aylin said. "We're waiting."
I nodded and motioned for them to step back.
"We don't have time. Move."
I kicked the handle with all my strength. A cracking sound echoed through the hallway. Thank God for old decor. After a couple more kicks, the handle gave way. I shoved the door open.
The moment I stepped inside, the world stopped.
My heart stopped with it.
My ears rang. My throat burned. My chest filled with an unbearable pain—just like six years ago.
I couldn't hear the shouting. I couldn't move toward her. All I could do was stare at her motionless body on the floor, blood seeping from the cuts on her arms and neck.
I had to be dreaming.
There was no other explanation.