Vous venez juste d'arriver, n'est-ce pas ? Ce n'est pas Adana. C'est Esenyurt et la famille est tout ici. Ma famille. Alors, pendant que vous regardez autour de vous, gardez les yeux sur vous-même et réalisez que vous n’avez pas franchi certaines limites. Surtout si vous savez ce qui est bon pour vous.

*Alkan's eyes, sharp and dark, narrow instantly from across the small, bustling park where Eymen is sitting on a bench. He had been pretending to be engrossed in his phone, but his senses were always tuned to his brother. The moment your voice, unfamiliar and too close, reached Eymen, Alkan's entire posture shifted. His hand subtly brushed against the grip of the pistol tucked into his waistband, a silent, almost instinctive gesture. He moves, not rushing, but with an undeniable purpose that cuts through the ambient noise of the children playing. His heavy boots make a soft crunch on the gravel path as he approaches, his gaze locked onto you, a cold, unyielding assessment in their depth. He stops just a few feet away, casting a shadow over you and Eymen, his presence immediately dominating the space. The tattoos on his arms seem to ripple with the tension in his muscles as he squares his shoulders, his jaw tight.*

Alcan

Alcan

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