5. Zayn
CHAPTER 5
ZAYN
When I walked outside, Rye was holding the car door open for Isla. The fact that she was hesitating about getting in the car made me want to praise her and yell at her at the same time.
Rye gave me a look that told me exactly how he felt about her hesitation, and I understood his frustration.
“You got better offers tonight?” I asked her as I came to stand beside them. Rye mumbled something under his breath, too low for me to hear, as he walked past me to get to the driver’s side, leaving me beside Isla. “Get in the car.”
She looked okay. Her clothes reflected how her night had gone with dirt and stains on them. Her face had a streak of dirt on it, the backs of her hands had dried blood on them, and her knuckles were scuffed up.
For a long, charged moment, we just stood there—the night air thick between us, the space between our bodies humming with tension.
She sucked in a breath. “Zayn?—”
“Not yet.” I jerked my head to the car door. “Get in quick. We’re leaving. ”
She looked between the open door and me. “I?—”
“I said get in,” I reminded her, taking hold of the door. “Unless you want to go back inside?”
Her eyes narrowed in anger. With a glare, she got into the backseat of the SUV, and we ignored Rye, mentioning his upholstery getting dirty. Once she was in, I closed the door and got in the front seat.
The rage I’d been trying to swallow was threatening to explode. I wasn’t angry at her. I was angry at the situation. At Patrick. At Julian.
“Get us out of here,” I instructed Rye softly.
Rye drove us out of the old industrial yard and headed back to Gracemont. The car was thick with silence, and I saw him glance at me more than once, no doubt wondering why I wasn’t saying anything.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
There it was. Rye pulled over to the side of the road, the doors unlocked, and Isla rushed out of the car.
Rye turned to me. “Zayn, what the?—”
“Wait.” I got out of the car and followed slowly behind, watching her gulp in huge breaths, her body bent over double, her hands on her knees as she coped with the realization she was free and unharmed.
She looked up as I approached her. “I’m fine.” She straightened as I got closer.
“You were taken.” The words came out sharp, rough. I inhaled slowly. “So, no, I’d say you were far from fine.”
I saw her flinch. Her mouth opened, then snapped shut.
Good.
Because I was one second away from putting a bullet in Patrick’s skull, and if I didn’t get her back in the car, I was going to do something I wouldn’t regret, but she might .
She looked past me, her eyes looking back the way we’d come. “I didn’t need?—”
I stepped into her space so quickly that she had to tilt her chin up to meet my eyes. “You didn’t need what?” My voice was low, dangerous. “To be pulled out of a hostage situation? To not be a fucking pawn in Julian’s mess?”
Isla’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t need you to be the one to do it.”
There it was. The resistance. The anger. I should’ve let it go. I should’ve walked away. She’d been through enough tonight. Instead, I leaned in, my voice low, lethal. “Too fucking bad.”
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t look away.
And neither did I.
Her temper flared, her emotions all over the place. She had a lot to deal with, but I’d take her rage any day. Her chest rose and fell too quickly as if she was holding back words she wanted to throw at me.
Good.
Because I wasn’t exactly feeling fucking charitable, either.
Her hazel eyes burned into mine, searching, challenging. She wanted a fight. I almost gave her one. Instead, I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands to unclench.
“Let’s go.”
Isla didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
“You just expect me to get in the car?” she asked, her voice sharp. “No explanation? Not one word of conversation? Just get in the car and go, like nothing happened?”
I arched a brow. “Do you want to walk? Go back to the warehouse?” I watched her lips press together, but she didn’t answer. “Exactly.”
I took a step back, giving her space. Giving myself space. Because the anger rolling through me was starting to taste like something else, something hotter, something more dangerous.
“Get in the car, Is,” I said, my voice rough.
Her shoulders squared. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
God-fucking-damn this woman. I let out a humorless chuckle. “Really? Because a few hours ago, you didn’t get to decide whether you were thrown in the back of a fucking car, but sure, let’s argue about me coming to get your ass out of a fucking storage unit.”
Isla faltered, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face before she masked it. Guilt curled in my stomach, but I ignored it. I didn’t have the luxury of making her feel better right now. She couldn’t break down here. I needed to get her in the car. I needed to get the fuck out of here, and we needed to stop standing in the middle of the goddamn road where Patrick or any of his men could easily pass us.
She straightened her jacket, and then, with a sharp exhale, she finally—finally—turned towards the SUV. I watched her yank the door open, sliding into the backseat with stiff, clipped movements.
I didn’t let myself relax. Not yet. Getting back in the car, I exchanged a look with Rye. A silent warning. A promise. Rye pulled out onto the road, and silence once more wrapped around us.
A few minutes later, Isla spoke. “You didn’t have to come.”
I forced my voice to remain even. “You’re right. I could’ve let you sit there until they got bored of using you for a debt he can’t pay.”
I heard her lean forward, and I turned my head to look at her. “That’s not what I meant!” she snapped .
My fingertips pressed into my thigh as I fought the urge to grab her. “Then what, Isla?”
She held my stare. “I don’t know.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Then that makes two of us.” When it seemed she had nothing left to say, I turned to face the front.
We were all quiet until I heard a soft sigh. “I didn’t want you to be the one to fix this.”
I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. Like there had ever been another option. I turned back to look at her. “Yeah, well. Welcome to my world, sweetheart. Cleaning up other people’s messes is what I do.”
Isla swallowed, looking away, and I didn’t miss the way she pressed her nails into her palms, her tell when she was overwhelmed. I saw Rye giving me the side-eye, and I clenched my jaw to stop myself from snapping at him.
Turning back around, I asked her gruffly. “Did they hurt you?”
She shook her head slowly, her eyes wide, and I saw the fear begin to creep back in. “No.”
I nodded, forcing myself to remain calm for her. She needed me to be in control right now. My eyes dipped to her hand. “You’re bleeding.”
Isla looked down at her hands. “I did that myself. I was trying to find a way out, but it was dark…” She looked up at me, and I saw the unshed tears ready to spill. “They didn’t hurt me.” She rubbed her wrists. “A few bruises from when they grabbed me, I think.”
Thank fuck I wasn’t driving, because I’d be turning this car right the fuck around. Acting rashly in anger wasn’t the wisest move right now. I knew that. I just needed to keep reminding myself of it.
“It’s okay,” I told her, my voice low. “I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you.” I looked outside the car. “We’re almost there. Hold on a little bit longer.”
I wasn’t going to take her home. I wasn’t going to ask if she wanted me to. She might have thought she wanted to be alone, but I wasn’t giving her that option. Not tonight.
Gracemont blurred past as we drove, headlights muted in the brightly lit streets. Isla didn’t speak again, and I didn’t push her. Not yet.
It was anything but comfortable. The tension was thick and crackling, waiting for something to set it off. When Rye pulled into the underground garage beneath Elixir, she stiffened.
“Why are we here?”
Rye killed the engine, and I unbuckled my seat belt, my movements controlled. Deliberate. “Because we’re going to talk.”
Her laugh was sharp. Bitter. “Talk? You? Well, that’ll be a first.”
I turned to her, my jaw tightening. “You’re pissed? Good. So am I.”
She was shaking her head as she threw the door open, getting out of the car. “You don’t get to be angry ?—”
I was out of the car before she could finish, slamming the door shut and stalking around the hood until we were face-to-face in the bright garage lighting.
“I don’t get to be angry?” I asked her, my voice quiet. “You were taken . Used as a bargaining chip. And I don’t get to be angry ?”
Isla glared at me, breathing hard, frustration pouring off her in waves. “I didn’t ask you to fix this!”
“And yet, here we are,” I shot back, stepping closer. “Because there is no one else to fix this. ”
Her fists clenched, and she looked away. “So now what? You want me to tell you you’re my hero?” Isla scoffed. “Fuck that. And fuck you.”
Heat surged through me but not from anger. From her. From the way her chest rose and fell too fast. From the way she was practically vibrating with rage, resentment, and something she would never name.
I took another step forward, forcing her to tilt her chin up to meet my gaze. “Careful, little Isla,” I murmured. “You’re pushing me.”
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t move. Didn’t back down.
I wasn’t backing down either. Taking hold of her arm, I led her to the elevator. “We do this in the loft.” I felt her resistance. “Inside. Now.”
I felt her hesitate but only for a second, and with a sharp elbow in my ribs making me loosen my hold, she freed herself of me and stormed inside.
The ride up was stifling. Neither of us spoke, and the tension wrapped around us like a noose. I could feel the anger and adrenaline radiating from her as it pumped through her veins.
She wanted to fight. She wanted to lash out. And I was this fucking close to letting her. The doors slid open, and she strode into my loft like she belonged there. I followed, taking off my jacket as I did.
Isla turned to face me, eyes blazing. “So what now?” she demanded. “I’m here so you can tell me what a stupid idiot I am for getting kidnapped?”
I shook my head, taking my cuff links off and dropping them on the table beside me. I rolled my shirt sleeves up. “No.”
“Then why?—”
“Because I needed to see you.” I cut her off, my voice raw, unfiltered. “I needed to know for sure that you were okay. That they hadn’t—” I stopped myself, dragging a hand through my hair.
Isla’s face screwed up, her throat working. “I told you. They didn’t hurt me.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t need to fucking see it with my own eyes.”
Her breath stuttered, her fingers curling into fists at her side as she bumped them off her thighs uncertainly. I was pushing her. But she’d been pushing me too.
For a long, unbearable moment, we just stood there watching each other. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us looked away.
And then she moved. Quick and sharp, like she’d made the decision in an instant. She shoved me. My chest barely moved with the force of it, but I don’t think she noticed.
Her voice cracked. “I hate him for this.”
Julian .
I exhaled slowly. “No, you don’t.”
Isla shoved me again, harder this time. “I hate that you’re the one who came. It’s always you. You always show up. You always make me feel—” Her voice cut off, her lips parting on a shallow breath.
My pulse was hammering in my ears. Waiting. Daring her to say it.
Isla watched me; she was panting like she had run a race, her pupils blown wide. And then she did the one thing I hadn’t expected.
She grabbed me and kissed me.
She kissed me like she hated me for it. Fierce. Desperate. Like she was trying to punish me and herself in the same breath. Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt, yanking me closer, and I let her—for a second .
Just one fucking second, I gave in to her.
Then, I took control.
I grabbed her wrists, twisting them behind her back as I walked her backwards, forcing her into the nearest wall. She gasped against my mouth, but I didn’t stop. Didn’t let her think too much.
Didn’t let myself think. She was here. In my arms.
Safe.
My grip on her tightened as I deepened the kiss, tilting her head back with my thumb under her jaw, pressing just enough to let her know—I had her.
I had her. She was here. She was mine.
And she could lie to herself all she wanted, but she wasn’t fighting me on this anymore. Isla’s body melted into mine, the heat of her seeping through my clothes, her breath ragged against my lips.
My hands ran down her sides, gripping the curve of her waist, memorizing the way she felt. Because no matter what happened after this, no matter how much she tried to push me away again, I wasn’t letting her go.
I dragged my mouth down the column of her throat, her pulse hammering beneath my lips. Fast. Frantic. Just like mine.
“Zayn,” she whispered, her voice barely there.
It was a plea. A warning. It was everything unsaid.
I pulled back just enough to see her face. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, her breathing steady. Her eyes locked on to mine, dark and burning with the need I knew she didn’t want to admit.
She was uncertain. With me. With herself. At whatever the fuck this was between us.
I smirked, running a slow hand down her side, fingers pushing under her shirt, touching her flesh. “Still wish it wasn’t me?”
She broke eye contact, but she didn’t answer. That was all I needed.
My lips traced her ear. “I don’t care if you hate me, Is.” I nipped at her earlobe. “Take what you need from me.”
A shudder ran through her, but before I could claim her mouth again, she yanked her arms free, pushing me back.
“Where’s Julian?”
I froze and then stepped back. “I don’t care.” My gaze raked over her. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’s far away from me. From you.”
Isla’s hands were shaking, but her voice was firm. “You don’t mean that.”
I gave her a small, mirthless smile. “Want to bet on it?”
Her eyes flared with anger, indicating she was as angry with him as I was. “Does he know… Does he know I’m okay?”
I snorted as I walked over to my kitchen, pouring us two tumblers of Scotch. I handed her one, and she downed it in one gulp. “Rye will have told him we retrieved you.” I followed Isla’s example and downed my drink, pouring us both another.
Isla hesitated, then drank her Scotch in one smooth motion. “I’m not good with spirits,” she confessed.
“I remember.” I sipped my drink. “You need to shower?” She didn’t look at me but nodded. “You want company?”
She met my gaze, wetting her lips. “No. I think that’s a bad idea, don’t you?”
“No.”
Isla looked down at the empty glass, pushing it back to me. When she looked up, her expression was closed off, the steel in her spine back in place. The walls were back up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That”—she waved to the wall—“was a mistake.”
I dragged a hand over my jaw, exhaling hard. I’d never been this close to losing control before.
Fuck, I was a mess.
She did this to me.
Only her.
I laughed, low and dark. “You sure?”
She didn’t answer right away. Because she knew. She fucking knew. This wasn’t a mistake.
This was inevitable.