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There's a moment of tense silence, a standstill of time. I weigh my options, but they're limited. Fighting my way out is suicide. Surrendering could give me a few more minutes, but then what? Ahmet will surely kill me eventually.
Mariya is still out there, alone and vulnerable.
Chapter 32
Mariya
Imove cautiously through the compound, my senses on high alert. The guards seem distracted, their attention drawn elsewhere, likely because the intruder is causing havoc. In my heart, I hope and pray it is Damien. I need it to be him.
As I turn a corner, my heart leaps into my throat. A guard stands there, his back partly turned to me. He hears me, though, and spins around, surprise flashing in his eyes. He moves to grab me, but I'm quicker.
In a burst of adrenaline-fueled reflex, I snatch a vase from a nearby stand. It's heavy and ornate and most likely irreplaceable. I swing it, all of my fear and desperation behind the force of the movement.
The vase connects with the guard's head with a satisfying crash, sending shards of ceramic flying. The guard staggers, a look of shock on his face, then drops like a sack of rocks. He's out cold before he even hits the ground.
For a moment, I stand frozen, my breathing coming in ragged gasps, the remnants of the vase still in my hand. I've never been a violent person; I never imagined I could be. But the situation has forced me to do things I never thought I could do.
I set what’s left of the broken vase down, its purpose served, and move on.
I continue my trek through the compound, a newfound confidence instilled in me from the encounter.
My progress is slow but steady. The sounds of mayhem happening in other parts of the compound grow louder and more intense. Gunfire, shouting, screams—it's a full-blown assault. I can't help but feel a surge of hope at the thought that Damien might be behind it.
I find myself at a staircase that leads up. I hesitate for a moment, then start to climb. A higher floor might offer a better view, a chance to scope out an exit, or even spot Damien. The gun is still in my hand, a reminder that I'm not defenseless.
As I reach the top of the stairs, I pause and listen. The sounds of the conflict seem closer here, more immediate. I steel myself for what's ahead and step onto the first stair, ready for whatever comes next.
I am filled with a mixture of fear, hope, and determination as I ascend the staircase, each step more challenging than the last; my resolve is tested with every move I make. The staircase opens up to a hallway, and through the windows at the end, I see a path leading outside the compound. Freedom is tantalizingly close, just a few strides away. I can make a break for it, run into the night, and never look back.
But a distant voice shatters that tempting thought. A guard's voice, carrying through the corridors, utters a single word that changes everything—Damien. The rest of the sentence is in Turkish, indecipherable to me, but it doesn't matter. That one word confirms my deepest hope and greatest fear. Damien is inside the compound, risking everything to rescue me.
I can't leave this place without him. The thought of running away while he fights his way through this hell for me is unbearable. Tearing my gaze away from the view of freedom, I turn back the way I came, my steps quick, driven by a newfound urgency.
I go back down the stairs, my mind racing with scenarios of what I might find. Each corridor I pass ramps up the tension inside me, forming a growing knot of anxiety in my stomach. I come to a door that I believe could lead me to where Damien is, and I hesitate for just a moment before opening it, gathering my courage.
I push the door open and step through, only to be greeted by the most horrible sight I can imagine. I find Ahmet inside, the man responsible for all this terror. He stands a few feet away, his presence commanding and sinister.
My heart sinks and for a moment, I'm frozen in shock and fear. Ahmet's eyes lock onto mine, a cold, malicious smile playing on his lips. He's like a predator who has just spotted his prey, and I'm acutely aware of my vulnerability.
“Going somewhere, prenses?”
The gun in my hand suddenly feels useless, almost foolish. I'm no match for him, not in skill or brutality. But as I stand there, facing the man who's turned my life into a nightmare, a fierce determination is ignited within me. I won't allow myself to be his victim, not anymore.
With trembling hands, I grip the gun tighter. My thoughts flash to Damien. He’s somewhere in this compound, fighting for us. For a fleeting second, I wonder if this is how he feels when he faces danger, this mix of relentless fear and deep resolve.
"Where's Damien?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
Ahmet's smile widens, but he doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. His silence speaks volumes, and a chill runs up my spine. Damien is close, and Ahmet knows it.
Ahmet's taunting words echo in the room, his threat chilling me to the bone. "You and Damien will meet soon," he sneers. "Potentially in the afterlife, if you don't play your cards right." His voice drips with malice, each word carefully chosen to instill fear.
But fear isn't what rises in me—it's a surge of defiance. Without a second thought, I raise the gun and aim it straight at him. My heart leaps to my throat as I pull the trigger, but the gun merely clicks, silent and harmless. Ahmet's smile widens. There’s a look of cruel amusement in his eyes.
He strolls over to me, casual and confident, and easily plucks the gun from my stunned hands. "I didn't take you for a killer," he muses, examining the gun with an expert's eye. "I'm impressed."
His words are a mockery, a patronizing pat on the head for a child who's tried and failed. He clicks off the safety with a flick of his thumb. "Always check the safety," he says, almost kindly, a teacher giving a lesson.
Without warning, he grabs me, pulling me tight against him. The cold barrel of the gun presses against my temple, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. A paralyzing and raw terror takes hold of me.
