Volkan Vorante

P.O.V. OF Volkan Vorante

The atmosphere is cold like chilling ice in my vast luxurious office, the evening glow casting for the high ceilings windows, the soft rustling of curtains, the sound of my taping fingers at my chair armrest, my eyes closed like I was pondering. But my mind is relentless, my dark heart is in fire. I feel like, lost. Even my outer surface is calm silent, dangerous. It's be week now, a damn week. And still nothing! Nothing useful to get to her! My wife. The only one who holds over my heart. Now she is GONE. She RUNAWAY for me!! For her tormenter. For her master. For her HUSBAND. Where she is? Why she run away? She feel danger for me? My mind is full of thoughts but I don't let it consumes me. I will find her, bind her, lock her in cage if I have to. She is mine. MINE.

I have to run, no matter what happens. I don't care I get caught, but my child. "Mommy, why we are here?" I look at my son, our son Leron, his soft voice with wide same bloody red eyes like him, I look at him. I give him soft smile. "Baby, we are here for some reason. Okay? Be good and don't look outside." Even my heart beating fast but my expression cool and calm. My sister Clara, who is helping me escaping, she sits at backseat. I'm driving the car. My mind keep recalling the scene again and again. And why I was escaping my intense, madman husband. It has reason, there was reason behind. EVERYTHING.

•A week ago before HER ESCAPE•

The sharp glace of my mother-in-law Siya Vorante the mother of my husband, she looks at me like I'm some cheap thing stuck at her expensive heel. Her hair is styled elegantly in bun, the pearl necklace shining as it's caught the light of chandelier. Her sharp nails is painted, ready to tear my throat apart. And next seat beside her is Islina Mortari, she is my husband's childhood friend and of course not want you think (Childhood sweetheart.) She always around my husband when they are kids and my mother-in-law always wants her as her daughter-in-law. Not me. Islina is blonde beauty with bouncy long curly hair, innocent looking green eyes, a sweet smile on her doll like porcelain skin. She looks like beautiful angle but Nah. Never trust in her angle like look. Because, she is venomous snake. She will do anything and everything to get whatever she wants. Even deceiving anyone. She always has secret love on my husband, but she doesn't know how my husband intense personality is. How he became madman whenever I just glace at someone, it make his blood boils in possessive dark fury. Volkan Vorante is my husband name. "Hand over Leron to Islina." Siya say with sharp nonenegotiation tone. My jaw clutch as my son name come for her mouth, how dare she. "Why would I hand my son over to her?" My voice is a low simmer, a stark contrast to the ice in Siya’s eyes. I pull Leron closer to my side, my fingers brushing his hair—so like his father’s, yet untainted by that madness. Siya scoffs, a sharp, ugly sound that vibrates against her pearls. "Because, dear, you are clearly... overwhelmed. Islina has the temperament, the pedigree, and the discipline to ensure a Vorante heir is raised correctly. You are merely a distraction Volkan hasn't tired of yet." Beside her, Islina leans forward. Her green eyes shimmer with a false, saccharine sympathy that makes my skin crawl. "Oh, let me help, truly," she coos, reaching a manicured hand toward Leron. "He needs to get used to me, don't you think? Since I’ll be around so much more often now." The implication hangs in the air like a guillotine. They aren't just trying to take my son; they are already auditioning my replacement. "Don't touch him," I snap, the command cracking through the room like a whip. Islina flinches, her "angelic" mask slipping for a fraction of a second to reveal a flash of pure, venomous hatred. "You forget yourself," Siya hissed, her sharp nails digging into the velvet armrest. "Volkan may be obsessed with you, but obsession is not the same as respect. If he knew the thoughts you’ve been having—the way you look at the gates—do you think he would let you keep the boy? Or would he put you in the cellar and let Islina play mother?" That was the moment. The moment the chill in my blood turned into a resolve of steel. I realized then that I wasn't just a wife in this house; I was a prisoner whose sentence was about to get much, much worse.

•The night she escaped•

I don't care what happened with me, I can fight, I can handle myself but I don't let my son dragged in this. My husband is not home, yet. He probably at his meetings, I already changed the angles of camaras and I know the path which help me like. "Mommy, you look worried..." Leron tiny voice, pause me for a moment. He would be 5 years old kid but he exact copy of his father. The dark hair and those bloody crimson red eyes, exactly like him. But he is utterly untainted by the madness of his father. Nothing hide for him like his father. I took deep breath, calming myself as I say in soft tone. "Yes, baby. I was worried. If your dad come we couldn't leave." I scoop him in my arm and walked through the hidden door in estate, this door once a moment of freedom for both of us. He always took me outside alone in midnight when I feeling unwell because of my pregnancy. But now this door will help me escape. I have problem with my husband's mother and that snake (Islina, I mean.) My son couldn't be safe here. I can talk about this with my husband but he? Doesn't care about his own son. He only wants me, and once he found out I'm gone he burn everything just to find me. Clara was waiting for me, I already told her. "Hurry!! We have to leave before anyone could found us!! What about your crazy husband? He doesn't find anything suspicious, right?" She whisper in caution. I only give her quick nod and get in the car.

•Current scene•

I was running for this place to that. In this one week I changed atleast 5 places, since he found me. But this time I hand Leron to Clara, I trust her. Volkan only wants me now. Clara help me hide Leron somewhere safe. And I have to hide alone. In those week, I escape with not just different places but I changed my disguise also. I crossed paths with him in my disguises. Each time I crossed paths, each time my heart beating faster and faster. I'm alone now, Leron is with Clara at somewhere safe, in between I set fire in the car, we are driving so he don't found us. The smell of smoke still clings to my hair. I watched the car—the one Clara and Leron were supposed to be in—tumble into the ravine and bloom into a violent orange flower of flame. To the world, and hopefully to Volkan’s scouts, we are ash. But I know him. He won't believe I’m dead until he sees a body, and even then, he might try to command the soul back into the shell. I am in a small, damp apartment in the industrial district. My "disguise" today is a drab, oversized mechanic’s jumpsuit and a short, jagged wig of ash-blonde hair. My porcelain skin is smudged with grease. I look nothing like the "Lady of the Vorante Estate." My chest aches. It’s a physical weight, the absence of Leron’s small hand in mine. Giving him to Clara was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but those red eyes of his—those beautiful, cursed eyes—are a beacon. Volkan would spot them from a mile away. The memory doesn't just surface; it claws its way out of my subconscious, dripping with the scent of expensive bourbon and the metallic tang of fear. To Volkan, I wasn't a wife. I was a vital organ he had ripped from the world and placed inside his own chest.

• Flashback: The Nursery Confrontation

Six Months Ago•

The nursery was bathed in a soft, dim light, the only peaceful room in the entire Vorante fortress. I was rocking a feverish, four-year-old Leron in my arms. He was crying, his small body shaking with a chill. I was humming a low tune, my heart aching for my son. The door didn't creak; it simply ceased to be closed. Volkan stood in the threshold, his shadow stretching across the floor like a giant's shroud. He hadn't even taken off his overcoat. He smelled of the cold rain outside and a dark, suffocating power. "Put him down," Volkan commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it had the weight of a falling mountain. "He's sick, Volkan," I whispered, my eyes stinging. "He needs me. He has a fever." Volkan walked into the room, his heavy boots silent on the plush carpet. He didn't look at Leron. Not once. His crimson eyes were fixed on the way my arms were wrapped around our son—the way I was giving my warmth to someone else. "I said, put him down," he repeated. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around my upper arm. His grip was a fraction away from bruising, a silent reminder that I belonged to him, body and soul. "He is your son!" I hissed, trying to pull away. "Your heir! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Volkan leaned down, his face inches from mine. The intensity in his eyes was a physical heat, a dark sun that threatened to incinerate me. "He is a biological necessity for the Vorante name," Volkan growled, his voice vibrating against my skin. "But he is a thief. Every second you spend weeping over him is a second you are not looking at me. Every ounce of love you waste on that child is stolen from my hoard." I gasped, horrified. "You're jealous of your own child?" "I am jealous of the air in your lungs if it doesn't carry my name," he whispered, his hand moving from my arm to my throat, not squeezing, but possessively cupping the pulse point. "I didn't bring you into this house to be a mother. I brought you here to be mine. If he dies, I will build another heir. But if you turn your heart away from me for even a moment... I will burn the nursery to the ground just so there is nothing left to distract you from my face." Leron let out a small, pathetic wail. Volkan’s eyes flickered to the boy for the briefest second—a look of pure, clinical coldness—before returning to me with a hunger that was bottomless. "Leave him," Volkan ordered, his thumb tracing my jawline with terrifying slow precision. "The nannies will deal with the fever. You are coming to my wing. Now. I haven't seen your eyes in four hours, and I am losing my patience." I looked at my son, then back at the madman who held my life in his hands. I realized then that Leron wasn't a person to Volkan; he was a rival for my attention. A rival Volkan was barely willing to tolerate.

•Volkan: The Predator’s Instinct•

I stare at the tablet on my desk. A charred wreck in a ravine. A report of a "tragic accident." I don't blink. I don't breathe. My fingers stop tapping. "Sir?" my lead security detail whispers, his voice trembling. "The fire was intense. Recovery will take—" "She isn't there," I say, my voice a jagged edge of ice. "She is too smart to die such a clumsy death. She is mocking me." I stand up and walk to the window. My reflection looks back at me—eyes like fresh blood, burning with a fire that matches the one she set in that car. She thinks she can burn her way out of my life? She thinks she can hide behind grease and shadows? "Seal the city," I command. "I don't care about the car. I want every woman between five-foot-four and five-foot-six questioned. If they don't flinch when you mention my name, they aren't her. But if their heart skips a single beat... bring her to me."

•The Near Miss•

I’m walking through a crowded market, clutching a bag of cheap groceries. Suddenly, the air changes. The crowd parts like a sea. A black SUV screeches to a halt ten feet away. The door opens, and he steps out. Volkan. He doesn't look like a man in mourning. He looks like a god of war. He scans the crowd, his crimson eyes cutting through the civilians. My heart hammers against my ribs—a frantic, trapped bird. Don't look at him. Don't look up. I keep my head down, hunched over, mimicking the gait of a tired worker. He walks past me, so close I can smell his expensive cologne—the scent of cedar and cold rain. The air around him is freezing. I feel his gaze sweep over my back. I stop breathing. I wait for the hand on my shoulder, for the "MINE" he’ll whisper in my ear before dragging me back to my cage.

•Back to the Present• I snap back to reality, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I'm standing in a dirty alleyway, the grease on my hands feeling like the phantom touch of Volkan’s gloves. He doesn't want Leron back because he loves him. He wants Leron back because the boy is a leash he can use to pull me back into his cage. If he finds us, he won't just punish me. He’ll remove the "distraction." He’ll take Leron away forever just to ensure my eyes never leave his again. Suddenly, a shadow falls over the entrance of the alley. A tall figure in a dark coat, his silhouette unmistakable. "I told you," a voice echoes, smooth and terrifyingly calm. "I can smell your heartbeat, little bird. Did you really think fire could hide you from me?" I freeze. The air in the alley turns to ice.