07| No One Disrespects You.

Quenten Yilmaz:

As I park my Mercedes in front of the Kincaid residence, I kill the engine and stare straight ahead. “Go inside and ask your baba why you are being forced to marry me.”

I can see her reach for the door in the corner of my eye, and when she pushes it open, she turns her head to look at me. “You’re not going to follow me?” She asks with hesitancy.

“I’d rather walk on a bed of rusty hot nails barefoot than face your killer baba,” I respond without looking at her.

“You’re not worried I’ll take off around the back?”  

Exhaling through my nostrils, I reach into my ankle holster and place my gun on top of my thigh with my finger resting on the trigger. “You run, they all die,” I mutter, exhaling harshly once again.

She stares at me for the longest time, horror bleeding over her face as she digests what I’ve just said to her. Slowly, she blinks before she exits the vehicle, and power walks up the stairs. The faint sound of her knocking on the door draws my attention to her when no one answers it. Before she can knock again, someone yanks the door wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Her anne screams as her eyes grow wide with fury. “Did you run away? You selfish little bitch! How dare you come here and put your brother’s life in danger once again?”

“I… I…” My soon-to-be wife stammers, and before I know it, I’m unclipping my belt and exiting the sedan like it is about to blow up.

“You aren’t welcome here, Mia. You belong to the Yilmaz family now. You need to get it through your head that you are no longer a Kincaid, and we aren’t family anymore.” Carmen, the heartless cow, continues to scream at her before she slams the door in her heartbroken kiz’s face.

Standing behind my timid wife-to-be, I raise my hand above her head, knock on the door twice, and when Carmen opens it for the second time, running her mouth, I stick the tip of my gun between her flapping lips.

“If you desire your life, you’ll hold your tongue in the presence of my wife-to-be, and you will never slam the door in her face again. Blink twice if you understand.” Carmen remains frozen in place as she stares at me with wide, terrified eyes.

Eyes that most likely resemble my future wife’s right now.

 For a brief moment, I remove the gun from her mouth, aim it at the wall behind her, and pull the trigger to demonstrate to her that I am not playing around.

The shot rings through the atmosphere, causing Mia to startle in front of me as a scream is torn from her throat, and she quickly covers her ears with her hands.

Placing my left hand on her shoulder, I gently move Mia behind me, protecting her, and I return the gun to Carmen’s mouth as I stand toe-to-toe with her.

The doorway suddenly fills with the rest of the Kincaid family with fear-stricken eyes staring back at us.

“The next time I pull this trigger, it will blow your fucking brains out. I am a Yilmaz and you should know by now that we don't like to be disrespected. Now, blink twice if you understand me.” I give her the courtesy of one final warning.

Not only because she is the anne of my wife-to-be, but because I didn’t wake up this morning and choose violence. Violence chose me the moment she disrespected the future Mrs. Yilmaz, and no one, I mean absolutely no one, disrespects a Yilmaz, ever.

Carmen quickly blinks twice, and I reluctantly remove my gun from her mouth, wiping it on her shoulder before I slip it into the back of my track pants.

I slowly meet the infuriated, confused, and shocked gazes of everyone around me. “Now, your kiz has come here to find out why she is being forced to marry me, and you will answer her truthfully,” I say in an authoritative tone. “Make her upset, and I will not be held accountable for my actions.”

“Mia…” Julian cries for his kiz.

I turn to face my soon-to-be wife and gently take her chin between my fingers, tilting her head back so she has no choice but to look me in the eyes. “No one is ever allowed to disrespect you,” I say in a dark and authoritative tone, holding her gaze. “Understand?”

She bites her lower lip, weighing the tension in the air, and despite the fear I instilled in her seconds ago, her gaze remains locked on mine.  For a beat longer than I expected, she stares at me in silence, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and a sudden heaviness settles in my chest.  The intense desire to draw her near and promise her that all will be well compels me to retract my hand from her face, stopping me from resting it over my heart. For doing so would mean confronting this strange sensation that is bound to become my most significant vulnerability.

“You have five minutes. Don’t try to run either. If I have to turn the city upside down to find you, I won’t be happy.” I inform her before I turn away from the house and return to my vehicle.

Instead of waiting inside the sedan for her, I lean against the hood, facing the house, and take my phone out of my vest pocket. Scrolling through my contacts, I find Stuart’s number and press the green phone icon.

“Good morning, Quen. What do I owe the pleasure of your call at this ungodly hour of the morning?” My best friend/lawyer answers my call with a sarcastic tone.

“Have you filed for the marriage license I spoke to you about yesterday?” I am direct and concise.

I hear him sigh, “Are you certain about this, brother?” He asks, his tone turning serious as he uses his lawyer voice.

“Hayir (no), but that doesn’t matter,” I reply honestly.

“It does matter, Quen. This is marriage we are talking about. It’s a lifetime contract. A commitment that can turn ugly.”

I take a moment to digest what he has said, and before I can change my mind, like I have a choice. “I’m certain,” I reply in a firm tone, swallowing thickly.

“In that case, the license should be on my desk by this evening. When it arrives, I will personally stop by and drop it off.”

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” I mutter before ending the call and shoving the phone back into my pocket.

Bok...

By this time tomorrow, I’ll be preparing myself to sign my own life sentence by binding myself to the kiz of my parent's murderer on a dotted line. I gently close my eyes, creating a serene space away from the world, as I turn my attention to the rhythm of my breathing.

The thought alone has me feeling like I've been shot in the damn stomach.