Chapter 7 #2
This beautiful, terrible creature is going to murder the man who's shown me nothing but kindness, who's offered to care for me and my child without asking questions. He's going to kill Sinan for the crime of existing in the space this stranger believes belongs to him.
The shadows tighten their grip, and Sinan's struggles grow weaker.
"Stop." The word tears from my throat, and both men freeze. I step forward, moving between them despite every instinct screaming at me to run. "Stop it. Please."
He looks at me, and I see something that takes my breath away—love.
Desperate, consuming, utterly devoted love mixed with such profound pain that it makes my heart clench in sympathy.
This isn't just possessiveness or territorial fury.
This is a man watching his entire world slip through his fingers.
"If you are truly my husband," I say, my voice steady despite the terror coursing through my veins, "then I will never forgive you if you kill him."
The effect is immediate and devastating. The stranger goes completely still, shadows freezing mid-writhe as if my words have reached some deep, untouchable place inside him. The cold fire consuming Sinan flickers and dims.
"You don't remember me," he says, his voice cracking with barely contained anguish. "You don't know who I am or what we were to each other. Why should your forgiveness matter to me?"
"Because," I whisper, tears streaming down my face for reasons I can't explain, "even if I don't remember, something inside me recognizes you. Something knows that losing my forgiveness would destroy you in ways I couldn't survive."
The truth of it hits me as I speak the words. This man, this beautiful nightmare, holds pieces of my soul I can't remember giving him. The thought of seeing disappointment in those dark eyes, of watching love die and be replaced by hatred, fills me with such terror that I can barely breathe.
For a long moment, we stare at each other across the space between us. I can see the war raging behind his eyes—the desperate need for vengeance warring against something deeper, more fundamental.
But slowly, infinitely slowly, the darkness begins to recede.
Sinan crashes to the ground, gasping and clutching his throat, but alive. Whole. The stranger's shadows pull back reluctantly, coiling around their master like disappointed children denied their favorite toy.
"You would protect him," the stranger says, his voice hollow with disbelief. "You don't remember me, don't know what we meant to each other, but you would protect the man who wants to take my place in your bed."
"I would protect anyone from being murdered in front of me," I say firmly, though my voice shakes with exhaustion and terror. "Even if you are my husband, even if this child is yours—I won't let you kill innocent people."
He flinches as if I've struck him. "Innocent," he repeats softly. "Yes, I suppose he is that. Unlike me."
"What's your name?" I ask quietly.
Surprise flickers across his face. "Kaan," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "My name is Kaan."
Kaan. The name resonates through me like a bell, awakening something that's been sleeping in the depths of my broken memory. I don't remember him—not truly—but I remember the shape of that name on my lips, the way it felt to whisper it in darkness.
"Kaan," I repeat, testing the sound. He shivers as if my voice speaking his name causes him physical pleasure and pain in equal measure.
Instead of retreating, he steps closer, and I instinctively move backward, my hand flying protectively to my belly. The gesture is automatic, primal—a mother shielding her young from a predator she doesn't understand but recognizes as dangerous.
He freezes at my movement. I can see the war raging behind those dark eyes—desperate love warring with possessive fury, the need to claim what he believes is his fighting against whatever shred of honor still exists within him.
"Leave," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Please. Just leave."
He laughs, but there's no humor in it—only bitter acknowledgment of an impossible situation. "Leave?" His gaze flicks to Sinan, who's still catching his breath but watching us both with wary attention. "I'm not leaving you with him."
The possessiveness in his voice makes something deep inside me shiver with recognition, but I force myself to stand firm. Whatever we were to each other, whatever claim he thinks he has on me, I won't be trapped between two men who want to make decisions about my life.
"Then you can both leave," I say, meeting his burning gaze directly. "Both of you. I don't need either of you to make choices for me."
Kaan's gaze shifts back to Sinan, and his smile turns predatory, all sharp edges and barely contained violence.
"A word of advice," he says conversationally.
"Stay away from my wife. What happened here tonight?
That was me being merciful." His dark eyes narrowed, shadows writhing around his feet like eager pets.
"Next time, I won't be nearly so generous with your continued breathing. "
Sinan's still pale from his ordeal, but a small amount of color bursts in his cheeks at the threat—anger or pride warring with the very real knowledge of what Kaan is capable of.
"Leave," Kaan commands, the single word carrying absolute authority. "Now."
Sinan glances at me, uncertainty and concern warring in his storm-gray eyes, clearly reluctant to abandon me with this dangerous stranger.
But I nod, not wanting to see my friend die tonight, not wanting to test the limits of whatever mercy Kaan might still possess.
With one last protective look, Sinan retreats into the darkness, his footsteps fading until we're alone.
Truly alone.
The silence that follows is deafening. Kaan stands there in the supernatural twilight, and I can feel,his attention sharp as a blade's edge against my skin
"You're afraid of me," he says finally, his voice carrying a note of something that might be pain if I didn't know better. It's not a question.
"Yes," I whisper, because lying seems pointless.
"You should be." His laugh is bitter, sharp-edged. "I am exactly the monster you should run from, Nesilhan. The fact that you don't remember why doesn't make it less true."
The name sends another shiver through me, awakening echoes of recognition I can't quite grasp. "Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Because it's who you are." He takes a step closer, and I fight the urge to flee into the cottage. "Elif is the name of a woman who doesn't exist, a lie you've built to hide from a truth too terrible to remember."
"And what truth is that?"
For a moment, something vulnerable flickers across his features. "That you loved a monster once. That you carried his child and chose to forget rather than face what that meant."
I want to deny it, to tell him he's wrong, that I could never love someone so dangerous, so obviously lethal.
But something inside me rebels against the lie.
Some part of me recognizes the pain in his voice, the way his shadows curl protectively around him as if they're trying to shield him from further hurt.
"I need to go inside," I say finally, my voice barely steady. "I need—I need time to think."
"Of course." But he doesn't move, doesn't step back to give me space. Instead, he remains exactly where he is, a dark sentinel watching my every breath.
"You said you weren't leaving the village," I continue, gathering what courage I can. "Where will you stay?"
His smile is sharp, predatory. "Close enough to hear you scream if anyone threatens you. Close enough to tear apart anyone who tries to touch what's mine."
The possessiveness in his voice should terrify me. Instead, it sends a shiver of something that might be recognition, might be longing, through my entire body.
"I'm not yours," I say, but the words sound weak even to my own ears.
"Aren't you? Your body knows me, Nesilhan. Your heart recognizes mine even if your mind has forgotten. You can deny it all you want, but we both know the truth."
I turn toward the cottage door, desperate to escape this overwhelming feeling and that voice that speaks truths I'm not ready to hear. But his next words stop me cold.
"Sweet dreams, hatun ," he says softly, and the endearment falls from his lips like a caress. "Try not to dream of me."
As if I could do anything else.