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I’d finally learned that there would be no running. Not because I only had one leg but because Cem would never let me go.
Not now.
Not after.
I would die down here, but I would die as Aslan Avci, not Aslan Kara.
“I am not your son,” I grunted. “And I will never rule in your stead.”
He hissed and jerked backward. “Again,” he snarled at the guard operating the machine.
I went to inhale—
Too late.
A sizzling arc of execution sliced through my organs, bones, and brain. I turned rigid. I bit my tongue. I jerked and seized, but I didn’t care anymore.
There was no preparing for this type of persuasion.
No enduring it or accepting it.
Each shock was as agonising and as blistering as the first.
It felt as if a thousand men punched me all at once. As if rats clawed at my flesh and ants burrowed in my blood. And by the time the current ceased turning my body into a pyre, I had nothing left.
I was just a pile of body parts, gasping and twitching on the chair.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Cem asked softly, shoving his hand beneath my face. “How many?”
I blinked back the haze and willed my tongue to work.
This was another one of his games. He said he borrowed the brainwashing tactics from the book 1984. He sounded rather enamoured by that tale and the ministry that managed to convince people of impossible facts and outlandish laws.
“Three,” I gasped, still twitching a little as residual sparks erupted in my veins.
He tutted and curled away the three fingers he’d been holding up. “Again.”
I groaned as another shock slammed into me.
On and on.
Hotter and hotter.
Broiling and defibrillating, flaming me alive.
I slumped as the current stopped.
I couldn’t hold my head up anymore. My bones were noodles. My muscles nothing more than tenderised meat.
My father waited for the electricity to fully leave my system before cupping my chin and raising my eyes to his. “How many fingers am I holding up, Aslan?”
He held up all five.
I blinked and fought the urge to sob.
What the fuck does he want me to say?
I tell him the right number, and he doesn’t accept it.
“Five,” I moaned.
Shaking his head, utmost disappointment clouded his dark stare.
He let me go.
I was able to keep my eyes on him, barely.
Clasping his hands together, he murmured, “I spoke to Neri again last week.”
My scrambled heart hopscotched. I licked my lips. I had questions, so many questions, but I didn’t have the strength to ask any of them.
Is she okay?
Does she still think of me?
Has she moved on?
Cem gave me a sad smile. “She’s killing herself.”
What?
“She can’t accept that you’re gone, and it’s making her mad.”
Neri...
Fuck, I’m so sorry.
“She’s learning Turkish.” He smiled. “She almost sounded native on the phone.”
I’m so proud of you.
I wish I were there to listen.
To talk to you.
To kiss you.
Love you—
“I told her that you’re nothing but ash and to forget about you.”
I hate you.
I’ll kill you.
One day, I’ll—
“Oh, and by the way, the answer isn’t five. One day, you’ll learn what I’m truly asking.” He stiffened and commanded, “Again.”
Electricity swamped my thoughts.
I forgot my name, Neri’s name...everything.
*
Two years, two months...
*
“Promise me you won’t forget me.” Neri pressed her mouth to mine, forcing her tears and fears into my mouth.
I shook my head and crushed her in my arms. “Never. It’s an impossibility. I’ll forget myself before I forget you.”
She crawled onto my lap and snuggled into my arms like the siren did into the mane of my tattoo. I wrapped myself around her. I rocked her close, all while my eyes stayed locked on the door before us.
Any second now, they were coming.
To take her away.
To sell her.
Because of me.
Because of who I was.
Because of the excellent trade I’d negotiated.
I’d gotten a high figure for her.
A fabulous number for her sale.
The income I’d earned from selling her would look so pretty in my records and would fit so nicely into my overflowing bank accounts.
“Aslan...please don’t do this.” She rained kisses along my throat. “You don’t want to do this.”
I pressed my cheek against her frangipani-smelling hair. “You’re right. I don’t want to sell you, but it’s already done. I have to, don’t you see? I have to because this is business, and you are merely a transaction. You now belong to someone else because it makes my father happy, and I am my father’s son.”
“You’re not his son. You’re nothing like him.”
I pulled away and looked into her tear-wet eyes. An awful confession poured out of me. “But I am, Nerida. I am him. I am a Kara.”
“No, you’re mine. You’re a Taylor. Take my name if Aslan Avci is dead. Take my parents’ name. Take me, Aslan. Take me and run. We need to run.” Her tears turned to sobs. “We need to run. Before it’s too late. Run, Aslan. Run, run, RUN!”
