Leyla clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she glared at him. "You're a monster, Ozan."
Ozan smirked, unfazed by her words. "Maybe." He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I'm your monster."
Leyla's breath hitched as his touch lingered, his possessiveness suffocating her. "I will never love you."
Ozan chuckled darkly. "Who said anything about love?" His gaze flickered to her lips, his fingers trailing down her jaw. "You will stay by my side, Leyla. Whether you want to or not."
She tried to move away, but he caught her wrist, pulling her flush against him. His warmth, his scent—it was too much. "Let me go, Ozan."
He leaned in, his lips ghosting over her ear. "Never."
Her body trembled, not with fear—but with something she refused to name.
As the overwhelming weight of everything crushed down on her, Leyla's breath came out in shaky gasps. She wanted to scream, to cry—to let out the storm raging inside her—but no one would listen. No one would care.
Her hands trembled violently, her vision blurred with unshed tears. No, not here. Not in front of him. But her body betrayed her. The stress, the suffocation, the helplessness—it was too much.
Ozan's smirk vanished the moment he saw her sway, her knees buckling beneath her. "Leyla—"
Before she could hit the ground, his arms caught her. Her body went limp, her eyelashes fluttering as she fought to stay conscious. But darkness consumed her before she could hear the panic in his voice.
Ozan's grip tightened around her unconscious form, his heart pounding in his chest. What the hell just happened? He had seen Leyla furious, he had seen her rebellious, but this—this was different. The way her body had trembled, the way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears—she had looked... broken.
His jaw clenched as he lifted her into his arms effortlessly. Was it the wedding? Was it him? Or was it something else entirely?
He kicked the bedroom door open and gently laid her down on the bed. His fingers brushed against her cheek, feeling how cold she was. She needed rest. She needed comfort. But could he be the one to give it to her?
His possessive nature screamed that she was his. His bride. His woman. But seeing her like this—vulnerable, exhausted—something in him shifted.
For the first time, Ozan didn't just want to own her. He wanted to understand her.