to lose everything;

to lose everything;

Arzu tightened. Nerves, fury, disappointment washed over her in waves. She found it hard to draw breath. “Perfect,” she replied with sarcasm, venom lacing her tone. “So you’re Işıl’s man. Knowing what kind of devil she is, how can you still stand by her?”

Bora laughed a deep, cold, insincere sound that echoed through the room. “I am no one’s man, Ms. Arzu. Işıl is merely a messenger owl to me… From what I’ve heard, you’re the little bird.” He set his glass down, letting it tap the crystal table. He walked toward her; the floorboards creaked with each step.

Arzu recoiled. She sensed the danger in him. This man was not like Ateş. He was of a different breed colder, more calculating, more unpredictable.

Bora halted and, with the tip of his finger, brushed Arzu’s lips. His fingertip was warm and gentle, yet threaded with menace. “What did Ateş tell you?” he murmured, his breath against her face. “That you’re a little sparrow, aren’t you?”

Arzu shuddered and shoved him away. “Keep away from me!” she cried. Her voice trembled, but her anger overpowered her fear. Her hands remained on Bora’s chest, trying to push him.

“Look,” she said breathlessly, her voice breaking and her eyes filling. “I have a little boy. Mert. He’s there alone without me. Please…” Her voice quavered. “Please take me back. Işıl could hurt him. I’ll give you whatever you want, I have no money, but I can find something. Just don’t let anything happen to my son!”

Bora stepped back, sliding his hands into his pockets. His expression did not soften. There was no compassion in his eyes. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, little bird,” he replied flatly, as if commenting on the weather. “Ateş will find you soon enough. The king of the Games of Desire is currently on our trail.”

Arzu’s heart tightened. Her chest constricted. “Then why?” she demanded. “Why did you kidnap me? Just to anger Ateş?”

Bora’s face hardened. He moved to the fireplace and stared at the flames; their glow lit his face and the shadows danced. A long silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the fire and Arzu’s quick breaths. When he finally spoke, his voice had shifted: heavier, more bitter, painfully personal.

“Years ago,” he said quietly, still watching the fire, “I was to enter into a marriage much like yours. A diplomatic marriage, you might call it. A business marriage. An agreement between my family and our partners. The girl was beautiful, graceful, from a noble family. I didn’t love her at first, perhaps, but I respected her. Over time… I fell in love. We might have been happy.”

He paused and gripped his glass so tightly his knuckles whitened. His voice grew harder.

“Two weeks before the wedding,” he continued, breath growing heavy, “she was with Ateş Yamanoğlu. For one single damned night. Then she came to me and…,” he stopped and closed his eyes, “’I don’t love you. I love Ateş,’ she said. To my face. With cold composure.”

Arzu felt her stomach drop. Suddenly everything made sense, the pain in Bora’s eyes, the rancor that had fermented into hatred.

Bora turned to her, his gaze filled with malice and the echo of his hurt. “The wedding was called off. My family was disgraced. The partnership collapsed. I was humiliated, publicly. And that woman…” His voice wavered; he drew a deep breath. “After a week of playing with Ateş, she was cast out of his life. She had been nothing but amusement to him. Entertainment. But for me? It was the end of my life. The end of everything.”

Arzu swallowed; her throat was dry. “I understand,” she said softly, voice trembling. “But I’m not that girl. And I don’t even think Ateş truly cares for me, I’m just another woman trying to get to him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bora cut in sharply, his tone rising. “You are his woman. You are his little sparrow. And I… I will take his woman from him.” His smile returned, darker now, more dangerous. “I will make him feel what it is to lose his most precious thing. He will learn what loss tastes like. He will feel the same pain.”

Arzu recoiled further. Fear mounted. “You’re insane,” she whispered. “Ateş will kill you. You know that, don’t you? When he comes he’ll tear you apart.”

Bora shrugged as if unconcerned, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. “Maybe. Maybe he will kill me. But at least I will have given him that pain. At least he will know what loss is.”

He lifted the glass, drained the last of his whiskey, and looked at her again. “Until he comes, let me tell you the history of these games, little bird.” He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.”