Not no.
Just won’t answer.
I close the distance slower this time. Deliberate. Careful. Every instinct in me screaming to grab her, pin her down, force the truth out of her before she does something fucking stupid and disappears again.
Instead I stop in front of her and set my hands on her shoulders.
Gentle.
As gentle as I can manage.
She’s trembling.
“Ayla.” Her name comes out low. Raw.“Please.”
I hate how it sounds.
I hate that I mean it.
“Don’t make me fucking beg to kill whoever did this to you.” My thumbs shift once against her shoulders, barely there. “Just tell me.”
Her mouth parts.
For a second I think she’s not going to say it.
Then, so quietly I almost miss it, she says, “Gabriel Kaya.”
Everything in me rearranges around the name.
Gabriel.
My mind goes exactly where it shouldn’t.
My enemy. So thisretaliation.
A message.
Because ofme.
I see her face again and something brutal starts building in my chest. I force it down just enough to think.
“Why?” I bite out. “Does he think hurting you gets to me? Do you owe him money? Were you running for him?”
Her head jerks once. “No.”
She’s breathing harder now. Too fast.
I tighten my grip on her shoulders, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep her with me.
“Then tell me.”
Her eyes go glassy.
“Tell me, Ayla.”
Her lips tremble once. She swallows hard enough for me to see it.
Then she says, “He’s my…” Her voice catches. Breaks. “My brother.”
