Chapter 6: Shadows in Istanbul

The plane touched down at Atatürk Airport under the cover of night. Istanbul’s skyline shimmered against the Bosphorus like a city caught between time and myth. It was a place of secrets a city that remembered everything and forgave nothing.

Aria Vale stepped onto the tarmac no longer Aria Vale. Selene had returned. Her sleek black bob was gone, replaced with a warm chestnut dye cut to jawline precision. Colored contacts turned her eyes from green to a stormy gray. The crisp designer pantsuit she wore in New York was replaced by a long camel coat and scarf wrapped around her neck in the modest fashion of a Turkish businesswoman.

But the change was more than cosmetic. Inside, she buried Aria’s softness beneath Selene’s blade-edged calm.

A black car waited beyond the private customs checkpoint. Claire had arranged the safe house an old Ottoman-style villa in Cihangir, once owned by an art collector with ties to MI6. Now it was wired with state-of-the-art surveillance, motion-activated shutters, and panic vaults that could hold out for hours.

Aria sat in the back seat of the car, fingers wrapped tightly around a burner phone. One message blinked on the encrypted line. No sender. Just two words: Welcome home.

She felt it then that sick rush of adrenaline she thought she’d buried long ago. Istanbul was the city where she learned to lie, to kill, to vanish. It was also where Lucien had first carved her into something useful.

As the car snaked through the narrow backstreets of Cihangir, she peered out at the city. Men smoked under flickering streetlights. The smell of roasting chestnuts drifted through the air. Laughter echoed from a nearby café terrace.

It all felt too normal too alive to hold the kind of ghosts she carried. But Selene knew better.

The safe house loomed ahead tall stone walls, iron gate, and no obvious sign of life. The driver unlocked the door with a silent nod. Aria stepped out and scanned the windows before entering.

Inside, it was dark and cold. Perfect. She set down her bag, pulling off her coat. A soft chime sounded from the corner. Motion sensor. Armed.

Claire’s voice buzzed in her earpiece. “You’re in.”

Aria nodded. “Everything clean?”

“For now,” Claire said. “No known surveillance within two blocks. We’ve jammed the local network. But Lucien doesn’t play digital games. He’ll use people. Watch for local agents.”

“I know,” Aria replied.

Claire paused. “And Dominic says to remind you not to be reckless.”

Aria smirked. “Reckless is half the point.”

She turned off the comms and moved to the wall safe. Inside: a Glock 19, two suppressors, cash in three currencies, and a sealed envelope marked: Selene Only.

She opened it. Inside was a photo. The same three figures as before herself, Lucien, and the unknown man. But this time, the face was clearer. He had dark eyes, olive-toned skin, and a crescent-shaped scar near his right ear.

A name was scribbled on the back: Rami Al-Karim.

She whispered it. “Rami.”

A chill crawled up her spine. He’d been dead. Hadn’t he? Selene remembered blood. Flames. Rami shielding her from a sniper’s bullet in Lisbon before disappearing in the chaos.

But if this photo was real and recent he hadn’t died. Which meant Lucien had lied about more than just his own death.

She didn’t sleep that night. Instead, she watched the city from the rooftop terrace, fingers on the trigger of her Glock, senses razor-sharp.

At dawn, a drone buzzed above. Silent. Fast. She didn’t flinch. Claire’s voice returned. “Drone sweep picked up movement at the Galata ruins. It pinged a thermal ghost matching Lucien’s height and gait. The signal faded. Either it’s a lure or he’s baiting you.”

“Good,” Aria said. “Let him try.”

She dressed in black jeans, boots, leather jacket and made her way through the winding alleys of Beyoğlu toward Galata. Her steps were confident, but her eyes scanned every reflection, every rooftop.

She arrived near the crumbling remnants of Galata Monastery, tucked behind centuries-old stone and fig trees. A figure stood in the shadows of the broken archway. Not Lucien. It was a woman. Turkish. Mid-thirties. Wearing a vendor’s apron.

She looked up, locking eyes with Aria. “Selene?”

Aria nodded. “Who are you?”

The woman handed her a matchbox. “He said you’d

Aria opened the matchbox, her fingers moving with precision. Inside, a small piece of paper was folded into a tiny square. She unfolded it, her eyes scanning the message.

"Tonight. Süleymaniye Mosque. Prayer Hall. Midnight. Come alone."

Aria's eyes locked onto the woman's, her expression unreadable. "Who sent this?" she asked, her voice low and even.

The woman's eyes darted around, as if checking for potential witnesses. "A friend," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Someone who wants to help you."

Aria's gaze narrowed. "What's in it for you?" she asked, her tone skeptical.

The woman hesitated, her eyes flashing with a mix of fear and determination. "I have... information," she said. "Information that could help you take down Lucien. But I need to be careful. He's got eyes everywhere."

Aria's expression softened slightly, her eyes searching the woman's face. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Ayşe," the woman replied, her voice barely audible.

Aria nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. "Meet me at the Süleymaniye Mosque tonight," she said. "We'll talk then."

Ayşe nodded, her eyes darting around nervously. "Be careful," she whispered. "Lucien's not to be underestimated."

Aria smiled, a cold smile. "I know that," she said.

As Ayşe turned to leave, Aria caught her arm. "Wait," she said. "What makes you think I'll be there?"

Ayşe's eyes locked onto hers, a small smile playing on her lips. "Because you're Selene," she said. "And Selene always shows up when the stakes are high."

Aria's eyes narrowed, her grip on Ayşe's arm tightening. "What do you know about me?" she asked, her voice low and menacing.

Ayşe's smile grew wider. "I know enough," she said. "I know you're not just any ordinary woman. You're a ghost. A shadow. And Lucien's going to do everything in his power to catch you."

Aria's eyes flashed with anger, but she controlled her temper, her face a mask of calm. "We'll see about that," she said.

As Ayşe disappeared into the crowd, Aria felt a sense of anticipation building inside her. She knew that tonight would be a turning point, a moment that would change the course of her life forever.

She made her way back to the safe house, her mind racing with possibilities. She knew that Lucien was playing a game, but she was ready to play along. For now.

As she entered the safe house, Dominic looked up from his position on the couch. "Anything?" he asked, his eyes locked onto hers.

Aria nodded, her expression serious. "A message from Lucien," she said. "He wants me to meet him at the Süleymaniye Mosque tonight."

Dominic's eyes narrowed. "That's a trap," he said. "We can't trust him."

Aria smiled, a cold smile. "I know that," she said. "But I have a plan."

Dominic's eyes locked onto hers, his expression skeptical. "What is it?" he asked.

Aria's smile grew wider. "Let's just say that Lucien's going to get a surprise tonight," she said.

Dominic's eyes flashed with concern, but he knew better than to question Aria's judgment. She was a professional, and she knew what she was doing.