Chapter 8

19 1 0
                                    

I bang the door shut of my room angrily, like why can't I have peace in my life? I could have found my bike but no, my brother had to check on us, like why would you today, just do it as he does it on other days, come late or spend the nights with his bitch girlfriend. With my bike gone it's like a piece of me missing. I don't know when I fell asleep while rolling on my bed in frustration, thinking about how? what to do with that dark brown-eyed, the next time I met. 

We had class today so I reached the university early to get some intel on the one who took my bike. Probably, there is a bikers club here, right now run by 4, who go by the names ASLAN, NOA, TURGUT AND EMIR. Aslan is the one who posted the photos, he wasn't present when we encountered them so it's not him so he is one of the 3 left. I had time before Lale reached, so I decided to visit the so-called biker club THE SYNDICATE. 

Ouch, watch where you are going!

unknown: sorry my bad, here 

he hands me a flyer and says: do come, it's going to be fun. (winks and leaves) 

The flyer was about a motorbike race event inviting to join it as  viewer or supporter  

I smile and move toward the club place. It looks like they are having some sort of meeting the way all were standing in the circle. Before I could push the door open full, a black beauty caught my eye. I moved and was about to touch it when 

I would suggest you, don't touch it.

I move my head instantly in the direction of the voice  and say while running my fingers on the big scratch on its top 

Sibel: and why would you suggest that?

the instant I saw him, I felt like I saw him somewhere, oh yeah 

did you scratch it ( while moving his eyes where my fingers are on the bike ) 

I move toward him while getting my knife key chain from my jacket pocket. I flip it open and while blocking him, before he could react. I bring the knife toward his neck.

Where is it?

what! ( he says while arching his neck )

My bike (I say through gritted teeth)

 He did it, we just helped. ( he says relaxing while casually moving his hands in his pockets )

He who? I ask.

You scratched his bike, you would know ( he arches his eyebrows ) 

I move the knife an inch closer.                                                                                                                              Don't you dare to give me a cut?                                                                                                                              this time I arch my brow 

Fine! ( he blows the air from his mouth to move some hairs which have fallen on his face ) Turgut, you parked in his spot, and he doesn't like it when anyone takes something that's his, whether it's his clothes or his parking space. 

Okay. Is he inside? (I point towards the door)

Obviously ! his bike didn't come on its own ( now he says getting pissed ).                                                 And you are? I ask again ? before he can say anything                                                                                      ASLAN OZTURK, KNOWN AS AARK (I turn my head to my back and see Lale standing with her arms crossed in her front.

I moved and entered the club room, and saw him talking to his friend whom I remember from last night. I go straight towards him and stand in front of him. 

SLAP! THIS IS FOR TOUCHING ME 

 EVERYONE HALTS whatever they are doing, their eyes fixed on the scene.

SLAP ! ( I Slap him again right across again)  THIS IS FOR STEALING MY BIKE!

SLAP! AND THIS IS FOR!, I say through gritted teeth. 

he doesn't move an inch after the first two slaps but after the third, he steps in close _ so close that I feel his breath. My breath catches in my throat, the air between us shifting to almost unbearable.

AND THIS WAS FOR? he demands, his voice dangerously low, that sends a shiver down my spine. When I hesitate to respond, his hand moves with intentional slowness, capturing my chin between his thumb and index finger and forcing me to look into his eyes. The intensity in his eyes makes my knees go weak, but I try to stand firm.  It's true, even though I don't know why I slapped him for the third time, I could lie but the way he is hovering above me, it's impossible, to even think straight forming an answer would be an achievement.

"You can slap me again if that's what you want to do," he whispers, his breath so hot against my skin, each word laced with a dark promise. "But understand this..." He pauses, and his thumb brushes against my lip in a way that makes my pulse race and gives me goosebumps."The next time you lay a hand on me," he murmurs, his voice like velvet,  and so seductive, "it won't be so simple to walk away.  And I'll make sure of that." His eyes bore into mine, filled with fire and threat.

I finally form the courage and try to keep my breathing stable and ask  " And why is that ? ". He smirks "Because once you start something with me... you don't get to stop until I say so."

The crowd watches, but all I can feel is him—his presence, his power, the undeniable pull that makes it impossible to tear my gaze away from his.


Beneath the helmetWhere stories live. Discover now