Chapter Fifteen
His smile immediately wiped off. She crossed the line. He mumbled under his breath.
He rushed out of the room, heading towards his car. Was she crazy? Why would she touch one of his men? She would be a fool if she thought he would let her go freely after sending him this. Knowing how twisted she was, he knew she was waiting for him to react and so help him God, he was already seeing red.
The drive was quiet as the street was the same. Most people were asleep.
In a few minutes, he was packing beside where he believed was the setting from the picture she had sent.
He got down, walking towards somewhere. If this was her plan to bring him to a quiet place to murder him, she had succeeded. This wasn't part of her property but he could care less about why she chose this of all the places she could've chosen.
His hand barely touched his gun when he heard a sound coming from one of the doors. He rushed to the place it came from, carefully looking around to see if there was a trap or not.
Ahmet pushed open the door, steeling himself for what lay ahead. The air inside reeked of blood and sweat. His gaze swept the room, locking onto the crumpled figure on the floor.
There, one of his men lay twisted, eyes sunken, skin pale. A jagged gash yawned across his chest, soaking his shirt crimson and his gut twisting.
He approached cautiously, dropping to one knee beside him. A faint wheeze escaped the man's lips, the only sign of life.
His eyes scanned his broken form, taking in the brutal beating. His jaw clenched.
The man's hand, trembling, held a crumpled note and almost soaked with his blood. Ahmet gently pried the paper loose, unfolding it.
'This should do it then.'
The words danced on the page, taunting him. His face remained impassive, but his mind was seething. How dare she? Since she had left a note, it meant she wasn't there.
The man's eyelids fluttered, barely seeing anything, trying to focus on his boss. A faint whisper escaped: "S-sorry... boss."
Ahmet's expression softened, his voice low. "Shh, let me take you to our infirmary?"
The man's lips moved, but only a faint hiss escaped. His eyes glazed, and his body relaxed, surrendering to the darkness.
Ahmet's grip on the bloody note tightened. This was worth punishing her and he wasn't even talking about a dance.
His eyes never left Benson's battered form as the medical team rushed him away. The door closed behind them, and Ahmet's expression transformed.
He dialed a number, his fingers swift and deliberate.
"I need to send a message."