A month later, they were back in her office, analysing new satellite intel. Baran stepped out to take a call, leaving his secure tablet open on the desk. A notification pinged, briefly flashing an archived message summary she could close it. "Baran, source confirmed that the Layla plan was 100% compromised via your input."
Her world stopped spinning. The air left the room.
The words burned into her mind, merging with the memory of that gut wrenching devastation from a month ago. The source. His input. She clicked the message, her hands shaking so violently she could barely type the default access code he had shared with her just yesterday. The full message history unfolded like a nightmare. Reports of the lead, coordinates shared with an unknown general on the Turkish side, timestamps matching the night she had finalised the plan and shared it only with him.
The man she loved, the man who had mended her shattered trust, the man currently laughing down the hall on a phone call, was the spy. He hadn't just watched her crumble; he was the one who had pushed her off the ledge.
Layla's breath hitched. A cold, absolute fury settled over her. She knew in her bones that she was responsible for hundreds of lives now lost and for the betrayal she was about to orchestrate in return.
Layla didn't remember standing. One moment she was staring at the message on the screen, her pulse ricocheting against her ribs, and the next she was storming toward the door, every step furled by a trembling, volcanic fury.
The corridor felt too bright, too quiet. And then Baran walked in.
He froze when he saw her face. "Layla? What happened?"
"Don't." Her voice cracked like glass. "Don't you dare say my name."
Confusion flickered across his features real confusion, the kind she used to trust. She held up the tablet, shaking. "Your input. Your access code. The leak Baran, it was you."
His lips parted, breath faltering. "Layla, listen-"
"No." Tears blurred her vision, burning hot. "I trusted you. I let you in. And the whole time… you were reporting to them."
He stepped closer, slowly, palms up like she was a wounded animal. "I didn't mean for any of it to touch you. I swear to you-"
"I said don't." She backed away, voice breaking. "You killed them. All those people. You killed them with your lies."
He flinched as if she's struck him. "I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this to hurt you."
She shook her head and ran past him, past the corridor, past everything that still smelled like him. Her sobs echoed off the sterile walls, sharp and ragged.
It took her fifteen minutes to stop shaking. It took her twenty to march back into the command centre with two armed officers flanking her. Baran didn't fight. He didn't even speak. He just watched her with this hollow, devastated look that made something inside her twist painfully.
The metal door slammed behind him in the interrogation room.
Layla didn't sit. She didn't need to.
"You're going to talk," she said, pacing slowly around him like she was circling a trap. "You're going to tell me everything about your side, and you're going to do it now."
He lifted his head. "Layla- "
She struck the table with her palm, hard enough to sting. "Don't pretend you care. Your love was just another tactic."
"It wasn't." His voice broke-actually broke. "I regret everything I gave them. I regret ever agreeing to spy on this base. The only thing I don't regret is you. I haven't shared anything else. I planned to leave them. I told them I loved you, Layla. I told them I wanted out."
Her stomach twisted. A part of her wanted to believe him. That scared her most of all.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't expect anything." He lowered his gaze. "I just need you to know it was real. For me."
She swallowed hard, forcing steel into her spine. "Enjoy your cell. Because you're staying there."
He didn't fight as the guards dragged him away.
Hours later, the command centre buzzed with tension. Threats from the Turkish side flooded through encrypted channels-demands for Baran's return, thinly veiled aggression underneath. They wanted their spy back. Desperately.
Too desperately.
Layla's skin pickled. "He knows too much. That's why they're panicking."
That night exhausted and aching, she went home. She didn't even make it to the kitchen before her world snapped in half.
A gloved hand clamped over her mouth.
Another twisted her arms behind her back.
Two Turkish soldiers materialised from the shadows like ghosts, their grip cold and merciless.
"Layla- "
The voice behind her was low, accented, and terrifyingly calm. "Stay quiet. Do not make this worse for yourself."
Her breath punched against the glove over her mouth. She kicked backward, desperate, but the soldier behind her only tightened his grip, hauling her off balance.
"Easy," the second one hissed, dragging her toward the doorway. "We only need you alive."
Only.
Her pulse roared in her ears. She tried to scream nothing but a strangled sound under the leather. Her mind sprinted through every emergency protocol, every escape drill, every self-defence move she'd ever learned-but none of them involved being ambushed inside her own home.
They shoved her out in the alley, moonlight slicing across their uniforms. One of them pressed a gun to her ribs. "Walk."
She stumbled forward, heart thrashing.
Baran.
The thought slammed through her like lightening.
They're to trade me for him.
A truck awaited at the end of the street, engine idling. The back door yanked open. She felt the cold barrel against her spine.
"Get in."
She shook her head violently, tears pricking her eyes-not from fear, but fury. "My people will never- "
A fist collided with her stomach, knocking the air out of her. She crumpled, gasping.
"We said quiet."
They shoved her into the back seat and climbed in on either side of her. The door slammed shut, sealing her inside the darkness.
The car lurched forward.
Layla pressed her forehead to the window, watching the lights of the town blur past.
No one knew she was gone.
No one had heard her.
And somewhere in a cell underground… the only man who could find her was the man who had broken her.
Baran felt the shift in the air long before the guards said anything.
He sat on the edge of the metal cot, hands clasped, nails digging into his palms. Something was wrong. The base had a rhythm, even underground – footsteps, orders, radio chatter. But tonight, the silence pressed his chest like a weight.
"They're coming for her."
"I know they are."
He'd warned them. Begged them. But no one listened.
Footsteps thundered down the corridor. Not routine. Not calm. Urgent.
Baran stood before the door even opened.
Commander Dara stormed in first, flanked by two officers. Their faces were carved with something he hadn't seen before.
Fear.
"What happened?" Baran demanded, stepping forward until the guards shoved him back.
Dara ignored the outburst and turned to one of the officers. "Check her place again. I want every room swept, every exit monitored."
They're talking about her.
Baran's chest carved inward.
Minutes dragged like hours. He paced his cell, throat tight, fingers trembling. Every second that passed was a second Layla was being taken farther away.
Finally-
The officers returned.
Their expression said everything.
"Her house was empty," one reported, voice grim. "Signs of forced entry. No struggle."
Baran grabbed the bars, knuckles white.
"They took her."
Dara shut him a sharp glare. "Stay out of- "
"You think I don't know how they operate?"
Baran snapped, desperation shredding his voice. "You think I don't know what they'll do with her? They'll use her to drag out intel, to hurt you-hurt her-just to pull me back."
The guards stepped toward him, but he didn't back down. He slammed his fist into the bars.
"Let me out."
"No," Dara said firmly. "You're a prisoner. And a spy."
Baran's voice cracked. "I'm the only one who can get her back."
The room stilled.
He could feel all their eyes on him, weighing wether this was another manipulation – or something painfully real.
Baran took a breath, forcing the words out even though they scraped like glass. "They won't negotiate with you. They'll negotiate with me. They'll expect me to come. And I will."
His throat tightened, but he didn't look away.
"If you wait… she's gone."
Dara hesitated, jaw tight. He looked at his officers, then back at Baran – and in that split second, Baran saw it:
A crack in the wall. A shift.
Hope.
"Commander," one officer said quietly, "he may be right. "
Baran stepped closer to the bars, voice barely above a whisper. "Please. Let me bring her home… before it's too late."
The cuffs clicked open.
For half a second, Baran didn't breathe. Didn't move. He just stared at Dara, hardly believing the weight slipping from his wrists.
"This isn't trust," Dara muttered. "This is necessity."
Baran nodded once, sharp, almost painful. "I understand."
"You bring her back," Dara said, stepping closer, "and you come straight here. If you run- "
"I'm not running," Baran whispered. "Not from this."
They shoved a vehicle key into his hand, handed him back his jacket, and within minutes he was tearing across the dark road, heart hammering like it was trying to break out of his ribs.
"Hold on, Layla. I'm coming."
He pushed the accelerator until the engine roared.
The truck jerked suddenly, hard enough to slam her shoulder into the door.
"Why are we stopping?" One of the soldiers barked from the front.
The driver cursed. "Something's blocking the road- "
Layla lifted her head, breath catching.
A black vehicle sat sideways across the dirt road, headlights blazing like twin suns. The driver leaned out of the window, shouting.
"Move!" The soldier ordered, banging the dashboard.
But the figure in front of them didn't move.
He stepped forward, light cutting across his face.
Layla's heart exploded in her chest.
"Baran."
The soldier beside her muttered, "No. No- he's supposed to be locked up."
The passenger door of the truck flew open from the outside-Baran yanked it so violently one soldier didn't even have enough time to draw his weapon. Baran slammed his fist into the man's jaw so hard the crack echoed. The soldier collapsed instantly.
The driver lunged behind him, reaching for his gun-but Baran was faster. He grabbed the man, ripped him out of the truck, and the two crashed into the dirt. Layla heard grunts, punches, the scrape of boots in gravel. A shot fired into the air.
Then another.
Silence.
Baran rose to his feet, chest heaving, blood splattered across his cheek-not his, she hoped-but his hands shook as he turned toward her.
Her breath hitched.
He climbed into the back seat where she still sat, wrists bound, her hair stuck to her face with sweat and dust. For a heartbeat, he just stared at her like she was the only real thing left in the world.
And then-
He broke.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, voice wrecked.
"Layla-God, I'm so sorry."
Tears spilled down his face, hot, uncontrolled. He dropped to his knees in the cramped space of the truck, taking her bound hands gently between his shaking ones.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he whispered.
"I regret every single thing I did to them. I should've left sooner. I should've told you the truth. I should've protected you." His chest shuddered as he sucked in a breath.
"Please… forgive me."
She stared at him, stunned, her heart twisting in ways she wasn't ready to face.
He reached for the rope around her wrists, cutting through it with trembling fingers.
"I'll help you take them down," he said, voice low, fierce, desperate. "All of them. I'll help you win this war-whatever it costs me. Just… just don't look at me like I'm a monster."
Her hands fell free.
Baran bowed his head, crying silently, like he didn't even think he deserved to look at her.
Layla swallowed, throat tight, pulse roaring as the weight of everything crashed into her.
He saved her life.
But could she let him save her heart?
Baran still knelt there, shaking, breathing like every exhale might break him apart.
Layla didn't think.
She moved.
Her hands cupped his face, pulling him up, and before he could whisper another apology, she kissed him.
Hard. Desperate. Real.
He froze for a heartbeat – then melted into it, gripping her waist like she was the only thing keeping him alive. Their breaths tangled, tears warm between their cheeks, his hands trembling as if he couldn't believe she was touching him at all.
When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against his.
"You're an idiot," she whispered. "But you're my idiot."
His breath hitched. "Layla- "
"You're forgiven," she murmured. "But you don't-ever-betray me again. Or disappear. Or lie. Understand?"
He nodded against her skin, voice barely a rasp. "I swear. On my life."
She squeezed his hands once. "Good. Now let's go home."
The moment they walked though the doors of the command centre – Layla supporting Baran, Baran refusing to let go of her hand – chaos erupted.
Commander Dara strode toward them, fury and shock all wrestling on his face. "You brought him back? You didn't follow protocol- "
"He saved my life," Layla shot back. I'd be across the border if not for him."
"That doesn't erase what he did."
Baran stepped forward. "I'll accept any punishment."
Layla grabbed his arm. "No-he's proven himself."
Dara lifted a hand. "He still goes back to prison."
"What?" Layla's voice rose. "He just risked everything- "
"And he gets credit if he proves he's truly on our side," Dara said. "But until we win this war and his intel helps us do that… he stays where we can see him."
Layla's stomach twisted. "He's not a threat anymore."
Dara met her eyes. "Then prove it. Both of you."
Guards moved toward Baran. She held onto him until the last second, fingers slipping from his.
"Layla," he said softly as they took him, "I'll earn it. I promise."
Three months later
Prison became their office.
Every day, Layla arrived with files, maps, encrypted messages. Baran analysed patterns from behind bars, decoding Turkish transmissions, predicting troop movements, exposing sabotage plans. Sometimes they worked until dawn, voices hoarse, heads bent together across the metal table.
He never complained.
He never asked for freedom.
He only asked, "what's our next target?"
And slowly… painfully… with Baran's help, the tide turned.
Until one morning, the war was over.
Won.
Because of them.