Chapter One Hundred and sixty- Two
That irritated Aht and then he yelled, "She is my woman! Asli is my woman!" shit! Why did he say that aloud? It was only supposed to be a thought. His stomach dropped while he clenched his jaw, fury at himself burning hotter than the pain in his chest.
Now, there was silence for a few seconds. Cole turned slowly, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
Markus burst out laughing. "See? That wasn’t so hard."
Cole joined, "He spoke as if his life depended on it."
"You both planned this," Aht accused.
Markus shrugged. "Not really. Cole wasn’t convinced you cared about her. He thought you did sothing terrible to her and that’s why she shot you. I had to explain to him but still, he never wanted to believe . He first needed proof that Asli was soone you want to protect and not for show." Markus explained through laughs.
Aht’s fingers curled slowly, the urge to reach forward and strangle his brother sharp and imdiate. If Markus had not been in the front seat, he might’ve acted on it. Instead, Aht forced himself still, posture locked in place, making sure whatever dignity was left of him was intact.
He could not believe he had been played. He was tricked into calling her his woman out loud.
Hours ago, he was jubilating for fooling Marco, he did not know he was going to be fooled too.
Aht glared, pride stiffening his spine.
"I should have shot her back."
Now it was Cole’s turn to laugh. "She shot you," he said, amusent flashing in his eyes, "and she left you."
The words drove in deep, twisting his insides like a blade finding bone.
"Easy," Markus added, grinning. "The wound is still fresh."
Aht straightened sharply. "Wait," he said, suspicion cutting through the pain. "What is going on here? How did you even know this?" His gaze snapped to Markus. "Markus!"
Markus lifted his hands in surrender. "I don’t know how he found out. He just said he knew she was the one who shot you. Right, Cole?"
"With due respect, I do not report to any of you." He responded.
Did he finally rember he was supposed to respect them? Aht looked away, his jaw tightening. "Whatever." he wished he could speak more but decided it was better to leave the matter. He was sure Asli asked him to go and clean up the warehouse.
Why wasn’t Cole asking any questions concerning the two of them? It was obvious he knew about Asli and him.
"Alright. Back to the point of this eting," Markus said, sobering. "Now that you are convinced we care about Asli, may we proceed? You’ll be shocked! Now, look at this."
He pulled out his phone and turned the screen toward Cole, scrolling to the photos he’d taken of the notice board.
"Marco runs a prostitution warehouse."
"So? Every Mafia has a club." Cole was genuinely surprised that they thought Marco running a club was dangerous.
"That’s the point. They were forced. So even grood and the worst part, only n of influence went in there." Markus nodded as he noticed Cole’s interest.
"All these girls had two pictures," Markus continued. "One from when they were first marked. One from the day they were taken. But Asli..." Markus stopped, swiping slowly.
"She had more than seven. Soone was tracking her. Watching her."
He trailed off, smirking like so detective who just solved a murder case.
Aht rolled his eyes, irritation flickering. When was his brother going to be professional for even a second?
"This first picture was supposedly from when Marco ’rescued’ her," Markus went on, swiping again. "Then this one’s from when she finished high school. This is when she beca a celebrity. And this..." he hesitated, flicking to the next image, "...cos much later than the last. That’s it. No pictures pinned after these stages. Why didn’t they docunt the rest of her life?"
He looked up, the question hanging heavy.
Cole leaned forward, interest sharpening. He took the phone from Markus and studied Asli’s pictures more closely, flipping between them and the wider shot of the notice board, his expression tightening with every swipe.
"No, Markus," Cole said slowly. "Asli was brought in before I arrived. But one thing I’m sure of, this first picture isn’t from when Marco rescued her."
He tapped the screen.
"She’s barely two here. Maybe younger. And Asli was ’rescued’ when she was four."
Aht leaned forward at once, every muscle in his body going taut.
"He took pictures of her before he ever brought her in," Aht said, the realization snapping into place. "The others had a pattern: the first was when they saw them, then the final one before they were taken. But Asli was adopted." His jaw tightened. "So why was her picture on that board at all? Unless Marco already knew she’d lose her parents. Unless he planned to take her."
The pieces refused to settle cleanly, scraping against each other in his mind.
"Unless there isn’t a pattern," Markus said slowly. "Maybe the photos aren’t chronological. First capture, last capture... or maybe they were pinned at random."
"No," Cole said sharply, shaking his head. His fingers tightened around the phone until his knuckles blanched. "No. That bastard didn’t just find her. He probably killed her family and took her." His jaw worked as if he were grinding his teeth to dust. "If they tried to steal her and her father fought back..." He broke off, breath coming harder. The rest didn’t need words.
For a mont, he said nothing more, staring at the images like they might bleed if he looked long enough. Whatever restraint held him in place was thin... dangerously thin.
Markus drew a slow breath. "There’s more." His voice had lost its usual lightness. "She was never registered in the logbook. Which ans he never planned for her to last." He glanced up. "My guess? He intended to kill her around the ti they stopped pinning her photos. If I’m right..." His mouth tightened. "Marco could make his move any mont now."
Cole nodded slowly. "Aside from Asli, I don’t recognize any of these won. Our female assassins aren’t on the board." He dragged a thumb across the screen, stopping at the colored markings. "So faces have red crosses. So green. Others blue. But hers..." His hand stilled. "Nothing. There is no mark at all."
The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating.
Aht felt sothing dark coil in his chest, colder than rage, and heavier than pain. His jaw locked as his gaze fixed on the images, a faint pressure building behind his eyes. It was an unfamiliar, and unwelco weight. Marco’s careful cruelty revealed itself piece by piece, and each one settled like a personal insult.
Markus’s humor evaporated completely. His shoulders stiffened, breath asured now, as though holding himself back from saying sothing that might fracture what little restraint remained. His fingers tapped once against his thigh, sharp and restless.
Cole exhaled slowly, the sound tight, controlled. Realization hit him as disgust flickered across his face, quick but vicious, like a blade catching the light. When he spoke again, his voice was low and stripped bare.
"I second it," he said. "Marco didn’t rescue her the way he made her believe." His eyes hardened. "He stole her."
"And I think she might be..." Aht began, then stopped. The words seed to weigh sothing now, heavy enough to demand care. Markus and Cole watched him, waiting. "Asli ca from a Mafia household."
Markus lifted a brow. "Which one?" He asked it knowing Aht wouldn’t have an answer.
Aht ignored him. "Cole. We need dates. How old is she?"
Cole shook his head. "I don’t know. She never spoke about herself much." After a pause, he added, "But I’ll find out whatever I can."
He hesitated, then went on, slower this ti. "There’s sothing else. I don’t know how it fits yet. Demir, he was never away like we thought. I saw him with Marco after they returned last night. Asli wanted to know what the eting was about. He was here. Running the warehouses. He never left this country."
The words landed like a final blow, heavy and damning.
Markus’s eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. "What? The sick bastards."
Aht’s stomach dropped. "Demir knows about the warehouses? I knew it!" His voice went tight. "Even the prostitution one? Christ! I assud he knew so but not... not... Evil bastard! No wonder I never liked him." The word tasted foul on his tongue.
Cole’s jaw clenched. When he spoke again, his voice was edged with sothing dark. "That’s the worst part. The prostitution warehouse was his favorite." He paused, swallowing hard. "I heard him telling his uncle he’d kill both of you once he recovered what you took. Told him not to forget that the prostitution warehouse was the one he loved most."
The air in the car curdled, thick with revulsion and the promise of violence yet to co.
"Wait a damn minute. If Demir were in charge, that warehouse would be his favorite. Could it be that Asli was grood for him?" The words churned Aht’s stomach.
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