Fikret Örnek looked carefully at the restaurant, men posted outside of it, and searched for a trap. Burak Bayar wouldn't try to trick him. Not at the first meeting.

Still, Fikret didn't doubt Burak's capacity of putting a trap somewhere. Only an idiot would trust a man like the one he was about to see in the restaurant. Burak was a liar and a backstabber.

Fikret had to listen to what the man had to say before doing anything. He had to wait before Burak made his move. Only after he would be attacked could Fikret make his own move.

Otherwise, he would be seen as a backstabber himself. Fikret had come there to make peace, to end the blood feud between Burak's family and his own. To make peace with the son of his grandfather's killer. Had it been someone else, Fikret would have been inclined to listen. But it was Burak, a man so known for his trickery it was a surprise that he still had business partners.

Checking his watch, Fikret opened the car door and started walking towards the restaurant, four men behind him. The place had been decided to be common ground, and both had promised not to shoot in there.

"The guns stay here," one of Burak's men said. "And the bodyguards."

Fikret nodded, handing his gun to one of his own men. He would normally have a knife in his boot but had decided against it this time. He didn't want to be accused of breaking the deal.

Walking inside the restaurant, he immediately spotted Burak. A short man with brown hair and dark green eyes, dressed in a blue suit. He was clean-shaven and seemed to be reading the menu.

As Fikret moved closer, Burak rose his gaze from the menu, surprised to see him. Fikret had no idea why. It was six o'clock. That was when they had decided to meet.

Burak rose from his chair and shaked Fikret's hand. "Welcome to Adana," he said. "Please, take a seat."

Fikret sat, while Burak asked him if he wanted to drink anything. He refused. He wanted to handle this as soon as possible and was in no mood for pleasantries with the man who was responsible for his brother's death.

"We both know this feud ending is for the best," Burak started. "So, why don't we end it? Let us leave everything in the past!"

"Leave everything in the past? How?" Fikret asked, faking interested. He had no thought of doing so, and he never will.

"Your father killed my grandfather. My father killed your brother. Our cousins killed each other. There has been enough bloodshed."

Fikret stopped himself from laughing. Burak's dead father killed his brother? How easy it was to put the blame on the dead!

"It wasn't your father that killed my brother," Fikret said in a diplomatic voice.

"My father gave the order. He was responsible."

Serdar might have given the order, but Burak had the gun. They had killed Osman together.

"Let's say I agree. What, then?"

"You return to Istanbul, I stay here. We can do business, if you'd like. Or we can simply ignore each other for the rest of our lives."

How could he do that? How could he ignore the pain in his aunt's eyes? Elif had raised both Fikret and Osman after their mother died. She had loved them as if they were her own children. Losing Osman had almost destroyed her.

"The idea isn't that bad," Fikret agreed. "But I will remain here for a few weeks. We can discuss business before I leave."

He would give Burak the opportunity to try to kill him. If the man tried, Fikret would have a reason to attack him. He would have a reason to avenge his brother.

Where would it end? The blood feud? The bloodshed? He had no idea. But he did not have the strength to let Burak live. He did not have the strength to spare his brother's killed. Maybe, one day, someone would end the war. A better man. But Fikret wasn't that man.

"Perfect! We can–"

Burak was interrupted by his own phone ringing. Checking to see who was calling, he excused himself, saying it was important.

Fikret thought about what he knew about Burak. His father had died after a heart attack. His grandfather retired and was still alive. He worked closely with the Apaks, being married to their only daughter. They were powerful allies, the Apaks. One of the richest families of Adana, if not all Turkey. An empire built on trafficking.

Still, Oguz Apak wouldn't continue the blood feud, and Fikret doubted the man would jump into Burak's war. No. A man as smart as Oguz would not involve himself in something like that.

Burak had younger siblings, and his brother would probably continue the family business as Burak had no children. Fikret wouldn't destroy the Bayar family. He wouldn't stoop to Burak's level and kill a child.

"My apologies," Burak said. "It was my lawyer."

The look in Burak's eyes told Fikret he realised his mistake. He could say nothing. He could let Burak think he hadn't done something stupid.

"Is there some problem?" Fikret asked.

He hoped so.

"Something personal. Nothing related to business."

Fikret nodded. For people like them, everything was related to business, even their personal lives. Still, he decided to let Burak be. He wouldn't ask more questions.

"If that is all," Fikret said. "I'll be on my way."

Burak nodded, and Fikret got up, heading towards his car.

It was good to know Burak had problems. Maybe he will be able to solve them before he signed his execution papers. A single choice, and Fikret would have a reason to avenge his brother.

A single choice could alter a life. A mistake could cost a life. Or a family. Choices and mistakes were dangerous. They could take everything a person had. Wealth, status, family, even one's life.

Burak had made his first mistake the day he shot Fikret's brother. Still, he had to have made countless others. His allies' influence was the only reason people still made business with him. Otherwise, none would throw a look in the direction of that backstabber.

In his car, Fikret heard his phone ringing and looked to see who could be. It was an unknown number. He still decided to answer.

"Fikret Örnek?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

It was a woman's voice. Not very young, not a child, but also not an old woman.

Whoever was calling him hesitated. Maybe she would hang up. Fikret wouldn't be surprised. Still, he was curious about who would call him at that hour right after his meeting with Burak. It was someone who knew who he was. The woman probably knew more than just his name.

"Someone who can help you."

"How?"

Could it be a trap set by Burak? Fikret wouldn't be surprised. Burak had his number. Had he given it to this woman and asked her to set a trap? Possibly.

"Not on the phone. We need to talk face to face."

"Where?"

"There is a restaurant. I'll give you the address."

She did as she said, and Fikret made sure to memorate it. He would write it down when he got to the house he had rented. Better to be sure.

"Meet me there tomorrow. At ten o'clock."

"Very well."

The woman hung up.

Fikret was aware that it could be a trap. But that was what he wanted. He wanted Burak to make another mistake. He wanted a reason to kill the other man without seeming a backstabber.

And if it wasn't... Well, that would prove to be interesting. Very interesting.