We shook hands. Just like that. It was settled.
Both of us turned our eyes toward the small village that lay ahead. It was about two or three kilometers outside İzaki—far enough to feel remote, but not too far from town. Small, yeah, but not tiny. At least a thousand, maybe fifteen hundred people lived there.
"Anyway, back to the job—"
He got cut off, mid-sentence." Gentlemen… "
The voice was familiar. I turned my head slowly. When I looked over, I saw him—standing there in the tall yellow grass. That big-built man.
My brother. As usual
He had a long-barreled Italian pistol pressed against Hasan's temple. From the left side of his back.
"Bad timing?" Muzaffer said with that fake-ish smile. "Thought we'd drop in while we were passing by…"
"Muzaffer?"
"Yeah, genius," he said in a confirming tone. The smirk vanished. "I figured someone like you would screw things up. And here you are—just as expected. You never disappoint, man… Just once, surprise me. I dare you."
"When you say we…?"
"Yeah, Fuat's posted a little further back. Got a sniper scope on us. Just in case you two decided to turn this into a circus. You clowns…"
"What the heck are you doing here?"
"What do you think, moron? We came to get you." He stepped left a bit. Not just at Hasan's angle now—fully to his side. "I don't know what this dumbass told you to win you over, but something's fishy as hell here."
"What the hell are you even talking about?"
"Shut up. You're in no position to argue. You vanish into thin air, then suddenly show up in some diplomatic gig? And then, out of nowhere, there's a report of someone trying to infiltrate from the inside? You really think I'm stupid enough to believe none of it's connected?"
He let out a heavy sigh.
"I know you well enough to know when you're up to something. Too well. Well enough to see your dumb moves from a mile away. Hell, well enough to even guess where you'd end up."
"Then you must know this too…"
"Yeah," he cut me off. "That you don't act without proof. But guess what? Whatever you think you've proven—it's just making things worse. Us being here? That's proof enough."
"And I know one more thing. If we don't get this sorted right now, we're screwed tomorrow. Worse. That's why I'm here." He pressed the rifle even tighter against Hasan's skull. A proper "heads will roll" moment. And not in my favor."We're leaving. All of us. But before that…"
"Hasan, right? Open your mouth. Who are you? What's your game?"
His voice was low, steady, almost mechanical. Not robotic—more like… routine. Like a soldier reading off protocol. But somehow, it still had this weird calm to it.
"Even if I told you, would you believe me?"
"What are you babbling about, jackass?" Muzaffer snapped, just under his breath.
"Like I said. Would you believe me? You weren't just passing by, were you?"
"What?"
"Don't play dumb. You've been here the whole time, haven't you?"
Hasan had a strange kind of intuition. Or more accurately—awareness. My brother's a big guy, but he knows how to vanish. It's a weird talent of his. Unless your eyes are trained, you won't even spot him.
"You were in those bushes over there, right? Which means you heard everything I said. So just answer me—would you have believed any of it? If I were lying, I should've slipped up somewhere, right? I'm not exactly the picture of discipline. But I didn't even flinch. My voice didn't tremble. Hell…"
He turned slowly toward Muzaffer, eyes locked like a dare. Then calmly reached for the barrel, pressed it to his own temple.
"Go on. If you really think I'm the enemy—pull the trigger. I told you nothing but what I know. That's it."
"Who the hell are you?"
"No more than what I've already said."
"Bullshit!" Muzaffer snapped, voice raised. I could feel it—he was losing control. That instinct to protect me, the one that's always been there since we were kids, was now turning into something else. Into rage. Rage that wanted to clean house.
"Do it!" Hasan barked. "Pull the trigger!"I saw Muzaffer's finger begin to tighten. Slow. Deliberate. The gunpowder smell was already hitting my nose—sharp, burning. His face went blank.
Two shots rang out. Just like that, it was done.
Muzaffer dropped the rifle. Looked me straight in the eyes. Like he was saying: Not even worth it.
He hadn't killed Hasan.I didn't know if it was doubt… or mercy.
"Not worth it…" he said, breathing deep. Then gave a hand signal—Fuat stood down. "Especially not for some dumbass like you…"
"I only told you what I know," Hasan said again. "No more, no less."
"Do you believe him?" I asked.
Hasan took out his sidearm, handed it straight to Muzaffer.
"Not really," Muzaffer muttered. "But I wanna hear your story. If you're this confident, you must have something to say. Even if it's bullshit."
"You think I'm lying?" Hasan asked.
"It's on the table. And it's not exactly a small chance either. But for now... I'm letting things play out."
"Little impulsive, don't you think?" Hasan said—half sarcastic, half serious.
"Maybe. But it's not like we've got much choice. We're both cornered. Killing you right now? Doesn't help. Not in any way. Let things move forward a bit. Let's see what kind of mess this really is. And if you're lying…"
"So I'm basically on a leash, huh?" Hasan asked.
"Exactly. At least until the smoke clears."
"And what if I'm just playing you? Gaining your trust to stab you in the back?"
"It's possible. That's why I'll be watching my own back."
Hasan gave a slight laugh—Fair enough."Then like your brother said: deal is deal, right?"
"Deal is deal... for now." He tightened his grip in the handshake. "This is about stopping greater evil, yeah?"
"Oh, and—prove your ability real quick, while we're at it. Let's get that out of the way."
"You're really hung up on that?" Hasan said.