TWO MONTHS EARLIER

The twins stood in the middle of Samet's study, silently watching the display of anger before them.

Ada had folded her arms across her chest and was watching the leaves stirring in the wind beyond the window. She heard what her father was saying, but gave no sign that she was listening. Ege's hands were in his pockets. His head was slightly bowed, his attention fixed with unnecessary intensity on one of the geometric patterns in the carpet.

From behind his desk, Samet recognised both performances. He had known them since the twins were children.

Ada resisted through silence.

Ege by pretending none of it was serious.

"Enough."

Samet's voice split the heavy silence of the room in two. He set down his pen and looked first at his daughter, then at his son.

"Every time, I try to look the other way. Every time, I tell myself, 'They're young. They're having fun. It'll pass.' But the two of you behave as though you've received special training in testing a man's goodwill."

Ege spoke without lifting his eyes from the carpet.

"We never had special training. It's a natural gift."

Samet's gaze hardened.

"Open your mouth once more and I'll use that gift to write you out of my will."

Ege pressed his lips together. Something barely perceptible stirred across Ada's face, but she smothered the smile at the last instant.

Samet rose from his chair. Leaning against the edge of the desk, he planted both hands on the polished wood.

"I still haven't worked out the logic of making artificial snow fall over a forest in the middle of summer so you could go skiing. But I don't even bring that one up anymore. In time, a man learns to accept certain disasters."

"It was quite a success," Ada said without looking away from the window. "Someone from the municipality even considered building a resort."

Samet turned to his daughter.

"Do not mock me."

"I was providing information."

"Quiet."

Ada shrugged.

Samet drew a deep breath and pointed to the files before him.

"What possessed you to go to a stranger's wedding and pour a bucket of gold over the bride's head? Where do you find this money?"

Ege raised his brows.

"Technically, you know where we find it."

Samet's eyes narrowed.

"Two hundred and fifty people work here. They get up in the morning, come to this building and labour until evening. And because you were bored, you spent what amounts to a year's wages for some of them on a wedding prank."

"It wasn't a prank," Ege said. "The bride was delighted."

"The groom wasn't."

"The groom looked like a generally unhappy man."

Samet stared at his son for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples. He had first discovered the existence of his migraines thanks to his children. Over the years, they had reminded him of them countless times.

"What is wrong with the two of you?"

This time, some of the mockery faded from Ege's face. He looked at his father.

"We like having fun."

Samet lowered his hands from his temples.

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

"You're twenty-six years old."

"That's exactly what we were going to say," Ada replied. "We're twenty-six. We can make our own decisions."

Samet raised one finger.

"That kind of freedom does not exist. You still live in my house. You still spend my money. You still take the company's cars and send me the bills. So you still play by my rules."

Ege tilted his head.

"Do you have a written copy of those rules?"

"Ege."

"I was curious."

"When you move into homes of your own, earn your own money and build your own lives, then you may go and do whatever you please. Freeze the Bosphorus. Parachute off Galata Tower. But I will not be paying the bill."

For the first time, Ada turned from the window and looked at her father.

"Freezing the Bosphorus would cost more than you think."

Samet waited several seconds to stop himself from answering.

"I can't even think of punishments for you anymore," he said at last. "You've exhausted my imagination. I cancel your cards and you find new ones. I take away your cars and you roll another one out of the garage. I confine you to the house and you climb out of the window."

"Last time, we used the door," Ege said.

"Get out."

Samet dropped back into his chair.

"Both of you, out of my sight. I'll let you know when I've found a punishment worthy of you. Don't imagine you've escaped."

Ege took one step back, laid his right hand over his chest and offered a measured bow.

"Have a productive day, revered father. Our faith in your creativity is absolute."

Samet reached for the pen on his desk.

"Go!"

Ada opened the door. Taking into account the possibility of his father throwing the pen, Ege made a swift exit. Ada followed and shut the door behind them.

The moment they stepped into the corridor, they exhaled in unison.

"We got off lightly this time," Ada said.

Ege let his shoulders loosen.

"He hasn't announced the punishment yet."

"At least he didn't bring out the cane."

Ege grimaced.

"You think I could ever forget that cane? I can still feel it on the soles of my feet."

"What had we done?"

"We played football on the giant screen in Taksim Square."

"Without permission."

"A detail."

"You broke the screen as well."

"But it was a goal."

Ada did not answer. She knew there was no point arguing with her brother's absurd sense of pride.

As they neared the end of the corridor, Ege's steps slowed.

Ada had gone several paces before realising her brother was no longer beside her. She turned.

"What is it?"

Ege did not answer.

His gaze had caught on the young woman standing at the photocopier at the far end of the corridor.

She was gathering the pages as they emerged from the machine. Her light-brown hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and now and again she tucked a stray lock behind her ear. The sleeves of the white blouse tucked into her navy skirt were rolled to her elbows. When one of the papers slipped from her hand, she bent to retrieve it and smiled at the colleague beside her as she straightened.

It was not her beauty that first caught Ege's attention.

He had seen hundreds of people in this building and never looked twice at any of them. Yet there was a calmness in this woman's face that he could not explain. As if she observed everything around her with care while revealing nothing of herself.

The woman lifted her head.

Their eyes met.

A brief, senseless pressure tightened in Ege's chest. He forgot what he meant to say. For him, this was a rare condition. While most people searched for a reason to fall silent, Ege never needed an excuse to speak.

The woman's eyes were almost black.

Her gaze rested on Ege for a second, then returned to the papers.

Ege began to walk.

Ada reached for her brother's arm, but she was too late.

When Ege stopped before the photocopier, the woman looked up again.

"Hello," Ege said.

The ordinariness of the word sat in strange contrast to the bewilderment inside him.

After the briefest hesitation, the woman answered.

"Hello."

For several seconds, Ege said nothing.

The woman's eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Was there something you needed?"

"No."

Ege smiled.

"Not yet, at least."

She regarded him as though trying to solve the meaning of the sentence.

"Do we know each other?"

Ege's smile stiffened a fraction.

"You don't know who I am?"

"Should I?"

Her reply made Ege look not offended, but genuinely astonished. He drew his head back a little.

"I'm Ege."

No recognition appeared on the woman's face.

"Nice to meet you."

Ada came to stand beside them.

"What are you doing?"

Without taking his eyes from the woman, Ege gestured to his sister.

"And this is Ada."

The woman turned to Ada and met a pair of green eyes studying her carefully from behind their glasses.

"Ada," Ege said, "this is..."

He stopped.

Only then did he realise he did not know the woman's name.

"May I ask your name?"

"Miray."

"Miray," Ege repeated.

He said it as though committing the name to some private place. Miray's expression was courteous, but distant.

Ada looked at her brother.

"Rüzgâr is waiting for us."

Ege's shoulders sank slightly.

"Right."

It was obvious he did not want to leave. Even so, he stepped back.

"I hope we run into each other again."

A small smile touched Miray's lips.

"It's not a very large building."

Ege smiled too.

"I'll take that as a promising sign."

Ada hooked her arm through her brother's and forced him to keep walking.

After a few steps, Ege looked back. Miray had turned to the photocopier again. Yet as she gathered the pages, she raised her head and watched them go.

The moment the twins disappeared around the corner, the woman beside Miray moved closer.

"What did you talk about?"

Miray straightened the papers.

"Nothing. He introduced himself."

"Mr Ege introduced himself to you?"

Miray looked at the woman.

"Mr Ege?"

"The boss's son."

Miray's hands stilled for an instant.

"The other one is his daughter," the woman went on. "Twins. They're here a few times a week. And when they aren't, news of whatever they've done arrives instead."

Miray turned her head towards the now-empty end of the corridor.

The boss's children.

She had not known.

At least, she had not known in that first moment when she saw them.

Now, however, one of the doors she had been searching for so long had opened of its own accord.

Just as Ege hoped, this would not be their last encounter.

But not for the reason Ege imagined.

"What in the world was that?"

Once they had left the building and were walking along the street, Ada cast her brother a sidelong glance.

Ege pushed his sunglasses up into his hair.

"What was what?"

"That performance just now."

"I was perfectly normal."

"I'm certain you considered proposing to her before you'd even learnt her name."

Ege laughed.

"Don't exaggerate."

"You turned the fact that someone didn't recognise you into a personal crisis."

"I was only surprised."

Ada nudged her brother with an elbow.

"Do you like her?"

Ege considered the question for a few seconds.

The crowd flowed past them along the street. The harder he tried to drive Miray's face from his mind, the more clearly he remembered it.

"I don't know," he said. "But I want to see her again."

The teasing vanished from Ada's face.

"You learnt her name two minutes ago."

"You have to begin knowing someone somewhere."

"You usually begin by telling them your life story before you ask their name."

Ege smiled.

"Don't worry. I'm not abandoning you and running off."

Ada stopped.

"What does that have to do with me?"

Ege stopped as well and looked at her.

"That expression."

"My face always looks like this."

"No. This is different. You look as though you're afraid our order is about to be disturbed."

Ada was silent for a while. Then she looked away.

"It's not our order being disturbed," she said. "I don't like the way you trust people you've known for three minutes."

Ege's smile softened.

"I don't trust her."

"You're captivated."

"That's different."

"For you, it never is."

Ege draped an arm over his sister's shoulders.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to lose my mind over a woman."

Ada raised her brows.

"Too late."

Ege was about to reply when a small stone dropped onto the pavement ahead of them.

They both fell silent.

The stone had come from the narrow gap between two apartment buildings. It was a passage cluttered with rubbish, old boards and abandoned construction materials, a place even daylight entered reluctantly.

Ege's arm slid from Ada's shoulders.

His gaze turned towards the darkness.

"Did you see it?" Ada asked.

"I saw it."

"Could be a child."

Ege gave a slight shake of his head.

"No."

Ada's expression changed. The woman who had been teasing her brother moments before disappeared, replaced by someone harder, more watchful.

"The Blacks?"

Ege looked at the wall beside the mouth of the passage.

Near its base was a small black stain, like ink smeared there in haste. To anyone else, it meant nothing.

To them, it was an invitation.

Or a threat.

"The Blacks," Ege said.

Their enemies had earned the name from their black suits, their ink marks and the traces they left behind.

The Blacks.

The name they gave to anyone who stood against the Butterflies.

Ege started towards the passage.

Ada caught his arm.

"Let's call Rüzgâr."

"He's already waiting."

"All the more reason to call him."

Ege looked into the dark passage.

"If we aren't out in three minutes, you call."

Ada frowned.

"While you're still inside?"

"Yes."

"That is not a plan."

"No," Ege said. "But I'm curious."

Ada muttered a curse under her breath.

They both knew she would never let Ege go in alone. She pulled her phone from her pocket and woke the screen. Keeping Rüzgâr's name ready beneath her thumb, she entered the passage beside her brother.

The heavy smell rising from the rubbish had sharpened in the midday heat. Broken glass crunched under their feet, the sound multiplying between the narrow walls.

After several steps, Ege stopped.

"Come out," he said.

No answer came.

He raised his head slightly and looked around.

"We haven't got all day."

Ada heard the faint scrape from the entrance before Ege did.

They turned at the same time.

Three men in black suits had blocked the way they had come. Despite the summer heat, their clothes were immaculate. The man in the middle wore no expression at all. The other two kept their hands beneath their jackets.

"So you're still this comfortable," the man in the middle said.

Ada's gaze swept over all three: their shoes, their hands, the distance between them. Not one of them was there by chance.

"Who sent you?"

The man tilted his head a fraction.

"Sami."

Ege raised his brows as though someone had mentioned an old acquaintance he had not heard from in years.

"Big Sami."

Contempt curled one corner of the man's mouth.

"So you remember him."

"Not a man one easily forgets," Ege said. "Certain physical details stay with you whether you want them to or not."

Ada gave her brother a brief look and did not allow the joke to continue.

"Sami is in prison."

"Not anymore."

Some of the ease left Ege's face.

Ada did not take her eyes off the man in the middle.

"Did he escape?"

The man did not answer. His silence was answer enough.

"How?" Ada asked.

"That need not concern you."

The man in the middle drew a pistol from beneath his jacket. The others moved with him.

Three barrels turned towards the twins.

Ege released a slow breath.

There was nowhere to run in the narrow passage. A high wall stood on one side; on the other, boards and rubble had been piled one atop another. The way ahead was entirely sealed.

Ada shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet. She was calculating the distance between herself and the men, the angles of their weapons, the nearest wrist she could reach with her first move.

Ege noticed a faint tremor in the right-hand man's gun hand.

"There are three of you," he said. "You have guns. And yet, instead of pulling the triggers, you're talking."

The face of the man in the middle hardened.

"To give you the chance to say your last words."

"No," Ada said. "To make sure."

The man's finger settled on the trigger.

"You place too much faith in luck."

Ada did not look away from the barrel.

"I don't believe in luck."

"How else do you explain still being alive?"

Ada's lips thinned into a line.

"I believe in my brother."

Ege looked at her.

Ada continued.

"Whatever happens, he finds some ridiculous way out."

A faint smile appeared on Ege's face.

"Pressure makes me creative."

The man in the middle raised his weapon a little higher.

At that very moment, something struck him hard from behind.

The gun fired.

As the bullet buried itself in the wall, the man stumbled forward. His pistol hit the ground and skidded to a stop several metres away.

Miray stood behind him.

She was gripping a thick length of timber taken from the construction site by the entrance. Her face was bloodless. Her arms shook and her breathing came in broken gasps. Even so, she did not let go of the makeshift club.

Ege's surprise lasted only an instant.

The man on the right swung his weapon towards Miray.

Ege hurled himself at him and seized the gunman's wrist in both hands. The man squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew through an open window in one of the buildings, followed by the crash of glass from inside.

The man drove a knee into Ege's stomach.

The air left Ege's lungs. His fingers loosened. Just as the man was about to wrench his arm free, Ada stepped in and struck his wrist with the outside of her foot.

The pistol fell.

The third man turned on Ada.

His first punch passed beside Ada's head. She ducked, then rose with her elbow buried in his jaw. The man reeled but did not fall.

Before Ada could strike again, someone caught her from behind. The man on the right had locked an arm around her throat.

"Ege!"

Ege was still fighting for breath. Even so, he saw the foot reaching towards the fallen gun and kicked the weapon out of reach. Then he grabbed the arm around Ada's neck.

The man was stronger than Ege.

He flung out an elbow and threw Ege off.

Ege's back struck the wall. When the back of his head hit the hard surface, his vision went dark for several seconds. He sank to his knees with a sharp ringing swelling in his ears.

Ada gripped the arm at her throat with both hands. She threw her weight forward, drew the man onto her back, then used her hip to break his balance.

The man lurched forward.

Ada drove an elbow into his ribs. As she completed the turn, her fist landed on his nose.

His hands went slack.

Ada put him on the ground and kicked his gun into the rubbish.

The man Miray had first struck was beginning to recover. Holding his head with one hand, he pushed himself upright. Miray still stood a few steps behind him, frozen with the length of timber in her hands.

He lunged towards Miray.

Miray tried to retreat, but collided with the pile of rubble behind her. With nowhere left to run, she took the timber in both hands and swung with all her strength.

The wood struck the man's temple.

His knees gave way.

He fell face-first to the ground.

The club slipped from Miray's fingers.

The sound of wood striking stone seemed to stop every movement in the passage at once.

Using the wall for support, Ege pulled himself to his feet. One hand was pressed to his stomach, and he struggled to hold his head upright.

Ada did not give one of the men on the ground the chance to rise again. She locked his arm behind his back and planted her knee between his shoulder blades.

"Don't tell Sami we're dead," she said between breaths. "We'll deliver our own message."

The man swore.

Ada bent his arm a little farther.

"Tell Sami this: if he sends men after us again, our next conversation will be face-to-face."

Pain twisted the man's features.

Ada released him.

Ege gathered the pistols from the ground. He threw the magazines one way and the empty weapons another, then nudged one of the barrels deep into the rubbish with his foot.

Miray was still staring at the motionless man on the ground.

"Is he dead?"

Her voice barely emerged.

Ada went to her and crouched, pressing two fingers to the man's neck.

"He's alive."

The tension left Miray's shoulders, but the fear remained in her face.

Holding his stomach, Ege came over.

"Are you all right?"

Miray looked at him.

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Someone just pointed a gun at you."

"I noticed."

Miray's gaze dropped to Ege's hand against his stomach, then moved to the back of his head.

"Are you all right?"

"I won't be walking upright for a while, but otherwise I feel remarkably charismatic."

Ada cut in, her voice hard.

"What are you doing here?"

Miray turned to her.

"Your phone."

She took a mobile phone from her pocket and held it out to Ege.

"You left it in your father's office. I tried to catch you in the corridor, but you'd already gone. I saw you from the window, walking down the street."

Ada took the phone from Miray's hand and checked the screen.

"And then?"

Miray hesitated briefly.

"I followed you."

"Why didn't you call out?"

"I saw you at the end of the street. Then the two of you came in here."

She glanced towards the dark mouth of the passage.

"I thought something was wrong. When I came closer, I heard them talking. When I saw the men draw their guns..."

She looked down at the length of timber on the ground.

"I searched for something I could use."

Suspicion remained in Ada's eyes.

"Most people run the other way when they see three armed men."

Miray looked at the man lying on the ground. Her lips trembled, but she tried to keep her voice steady.

"I wanted to run too."

She raised her head and met Ada's eyes.

"But if I left, they were going to shoot."

Sirens began to rise in the distance.

Someone nearby must have heard the first gunshot.

Ege looked towards the entrance.

"We have to go."

Ada surveyed the men on the ground.

"If the police find us here, the explanation will take too long."

Ege took out his wallet, removed some money and left it beside the fallen men.

Ada looked at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Hospital expenses."

"They tried to kill us."

"Yes. No reason they should lose their faith in the healthcare system as well."

Ada closed her eyes and gathered what remained of her patience.

"Move."

Ege headed for the entrance.

After watching Miray for several more seconds, Ada followed her brother.

Miray cast one last glance at the men on the ground.

Then she followed them.