That night, Arzu had only one thought on her mind: she wouldn't just take down a player she would take down the mastermind.
But this bold goat had already caught the eyes of other hunters… long before she even set off on her own hunt.
Ateş sat hunched at his desk, buried under a storm of rustling papers and the cold glow of the monitor. Just knowing Arzu was breathing the same city air drove him to the brink of madness. Not being by her side—it felt like slow torture.
Tasks that once felt routine now weighed on him like chains.
If it were up to him, he'd have glued himself to that woman, followed her like a shadow.
As he drowned in that dark tide of thought, a knock echoed through the room. His voice was deep, strained:
"Come in."
Cem stepped inside, wearing the uneasy look of someone carrying bad news. When he caught a glimpse of Ateş's tightly drawn face, he winced even more.
"Oh no, not that look... Forget it, I'm not delivering this news. I can't deal with one of your tantrums right now."
He turned toward the door, already halfway out.
Ateş growled, low and ominous:
"Suit yourself. But if I find out what you're about to tell me on my own, I promise my reaction won't be any better than it is now. Say it. Now's your chance."
Cem let out a long sigh without even turning around. He thumped the door with his palm, then came back in and slumped into the chair by the desk.
"She's at it again," he muttered. "Your girl."
Ateş's brow twitched.
"What did she do this time?"
"I told them to monitor all the phones at the villa," Cem began. "You know, just in case a loan shark calls or someone tries to lure her somewhere. We wanted to keep her safe."
Ateş stared at him, annoyed.
"And? Are we playing charades now? You're a grown man, just spit it out already!"
"Alright, alright!" Cem raised both hands. "She's... She's chasing that woman, Işıl! She joined that damn culty club you've been attending for the last two years. Red-tier membership, no less!"
Ateş threw his head back and slammed a fist on the desk. He sprang to his feet and began pacing the room like a caged animal.
"Is she out of her mind?! Okay, fine—we know she's a little unhinged. But this? This is straight-up insanity! She's diving headfirst into something she knows nothing about!"
Cem rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.
"I still think she's doing this because she believes Işıl is mixed up with them. Should we try telling her, 'Hey, sit tight, we'll bring the woman to you'? Maybe she'd back off?"
Ateş clenched his jaw, muttering through his teeth:
"If I know Arzu... she's not chasing the puppet—she's going after the puppeteer."
His gaze drifted into the distance, voice lowering to a command:
"Reactivate my club membership. I'm going in."
Cem groaned, shaking his head as he stood.
"Oh, great. Here we go again. Can't we have one damn week without a full-blown operation? And listen—don't forget who owns that club. If you blow the place up over Arzu, we're done for in this business."
With that, he left without another word.
Meanwhile, laughter echoed through the dining room of the villa.
Mert, as always, couldn't help teasing Natya, who sat right across the table from him.
"Mom, watch this," he said with a mischievous grin.
"Natya, what's this dish called?"
Natya frowned, clearly trying to be patient.
"Makana… With bolognese sauce. I put kıma and salç in it."
Arzu tried to contain her laughter, nearly choking on a bite.
Mert puffed out his chest and continued smugly:
"It's ma-car-na! There's an 'r' in there. And it's kıy-ma—with a 'y'!"
Arzu raised an eyebrow, smiling slyly.
"Mister Mert, maybe you should teach her how to say salçay while you're at it…"
Mert jumped in with delight:
"Exactly! Natya, what even is 'salç'?!"
Natya's face scrunched in mock offense.
"Fine! From now on, I'll only speak Russian in this house. Let's see how many words you get wrong."
Arzu gently reached for her hand.
"Oh come on, don't be upset. Mert really likes you. He loves your sweet accent. That's why he teases."
Then she turned to Mert, her brow raised.
"Right, Mert?"
Mert dropped his gaze, his voice soft.
"Yeah, Natya… I'm sorry. If you speak Russian, I won't understand you…"
A warm smile lit up Natya's face.
"Okay… I can't stay mad at you," she said, stroking his cheek.
Arzu returned to her plate, but her phone vibrating on the table caught her eye.
The screen lit up. Her eyes widened.
An email—from the club. "Participation Guidelines."
She turned the phone over and swallowed hard.
She tried to focus on her meal again, but curiosity had already eaten away her appetite.
"You guys go ahead. I need to check a few emails," she said suddenly, standing.
"But Mom, you didn't finish your food," Mert protested.
"I'm just not very hungry, baby. But you? You're finishing that plate," she said with a wink, already heading upstairs.
She nearly ran to the desk, flipped open the laptop, and pulled up the email.
As her eyes scanned the list, she narrowed them, muttering:
"What the hell kind of twisted circus is this…"
Then she began reading aloud, under her breath:
Club Event Participation Rules
No member may leave the location outside club opening and closing hours.Each event takes place at a different secret location.At the entrance, it is mandatory to present your personalized QR code via screenshot.Phones, radios, GPS devices, e-cigarettes, and all stimulative devices will be collected at entry and returned upon exit.Event color: Silver Grey. Each class must wear a mask in their assigned color. Underwear must also match the class color.Each man must carry a single red rose. This is considered a token for potential matches.The club ensures safety only until a match is made. Afterward, a mutual "bonding agreement" comes into effect.Additionally, one may acquire a "yellow-tier mistress" or a "best boy partner" outside official matches.We wish you delightful pairings in advance.
Welcome to the Games of Desire.
Narrative Translation:
Arzu held her breath, eyes locked on the screen, as if the letters themselves had taken her hostage.
"Minimal injuries..."
"Leaving the location is strictly forbidden..."
"They're all insane," she whispered, horror creeping across her face.
Only now was she beginning to grasp the pit she was about to fall into.
Just then, a gentle knock interrupted her thoughts.
She turned her head. Natya, gliding in with her usual quiet elegance, announced in a hushed tone,
"Ma'am, Mr. Yaman is here. Shall I let him in?"
But before Arzu could answer, Ateş stormed in, pushing Natya aside with fury and slamming the door shut behind him.
Natya pushed it open again, clearly not intimidated.
"Excuse me? What's with this caveman barging in uninvited?" she snapped.
Arzu smiled with calm grace. "It's fine, Natya. You may leave us."
The door clicked shut. Silence fused with tension, thick enough to slice through.
Ateş's footsteps echoed with a cold rhythm, steady and full of purpose.
He tore off his black blazer in one swift move. His white shirt clung to his chest, revealing the powerful outline beneath. As he rolled up his sleeves, each muscle seemed to ripple under his skin.
This wasn't just anger. This was raw, unchecked desire laced with pain.
His eyes burned. Jaw clenched. Eyebrows drawn into a storm.
Arzu closed her laptop and rose from her chair.
"What the hell is going on now? Why the drama this time?" Her voice was tight, but not afraid.
Ateş didn't respond. He walked toward her—slow, deliberate, predatory.
She stepped back. He stepped forward.
Her gaze was trapped in his.
"You can't charge at me like some wild bull every time you get in your feelings!" she yelled.
"A wild bull, huh?" His voice was low—too low. Dangerous.
Now he stood right before her, one hand against the wall, trapping her in.
He wasn't a man in that moment. He was a storm. A shadow made of jealousy, lust, and bruised pride.
"There'll be dozens of men at that club," he growled, his breath brushing her skin.
"And you—thinking you're some brave little goat—how long do you think you'll survive?"
Arzu's eyes widened.
"How do you know about the club?! Did you bug my computer?!"
"Is that what you think this is about?" he hissed, nose almost touching hers.
"You have any idea what kind of games they play in that place? And you—what are you even after, Arzu? Still chasing attention from other men? Was I never enough?!"
She tried to retreat, but the wall held firm behind her.
"Don't be ridiculous. That's not why I'm going. I'm there to gather evidence. I want to find out what that woman's up to."
Ateş narrowed his eyes.
"She wants power. She wants to seduce the most influential man in the country—either become his mistress or marry into gold."
A pause.
"What do you want, Arzu?"
She lifted her chin—eyes uncertain, but defiant.
"None of your business," she said.
"We spent one night together. You helped me. Thank you. That's it. So back off."
His jaw clenched so hard the veins in his temples pulsed.
"That's all I was to you?"
Arzu's lips trembled. She couldn't speak.
Ateş stepped away, his fury retreating like a wave pulled back into the sea.
He grabbed his blazer and turned toward the door, a storm still raging behind his eyes.
As he exited, something twisted inside her. Regret. But it was too late.
She wasn't looking for love or a man to save her anymore.
She wanted revenge.
Her knees buckled as she slid into a corner of the room.
Body heavy. Shoulders fallen. Eyes dim. Heart racing.
The game… had just begun.