23. Zayn
CHAPTER 23
ZAYN
She looked as though she had been standing there for hours. The laptop was closed. Her work was pushed away as if it had scalded her, and beside the laptop, something caught my attention.
A flash drive.
I glanced at it and then at Isla, who looked between it and me as if it were a loaded gun between us.
And Isla? Isla looked like she’d just seen the monster under the bed—and realized he lived in her house.
“We need to talk,” she said.
Four words. So simple. So sharp.
I didn’t react. I simply walked into the room, ready for anything. A habit. A reflex.
A necessity in my line of work.
“Where did you get that?” My voice was low, calm, and practiced.
She didn’t answer. Not right away. Instead, she stepped back, folding her arms across her chest as if it could shield her from a truth she already knew.
“Julian came by. ”
There it was. The sour taste of his name bloomed instantly.
“He gave me that,” she said, nodding toward the flash drive.
I crossed the room slowly. “And what is that ?”
She hesitated. Her hands ran over her hips, smoothing the material of her pants—a nervous habit of hers. “Um…I’m not sure, but I think…” Isla cleared her throat. “I think it’s trouble.”
I closed my eyes just for a second. Just to keep the fury at bay. Not at her.
At him . At myself, maybe, for thinking she wouldn’t be involved with this part of my life. “And do you think he’s shown it to anyone else?”
It could be fucking anything. I had no idea what it contained, and I knew it didn’t matter, because she had seen it. And it had spooked her.
Her voice was quieter now. “I don’t know. He—” She looked up at me with wide eyes. “He said I should give it to you, and you would know what to do.”
That mattered. That meant I still had a chance to control this. Maybe. I walked past her and picked up the flash drive carefully. No emotion. No urgency. Just business.
But inside? Inside, I was calculating damage. Risk. Fallout.
And watching Isla—watching how she flinched when I picked it up, how she studied my every movement like she wasn’t sure which version of me would speak next—that cut deeper than I wanted to admit.
“You’re not going to ask me why I looked at it?” she asked suddenly.
I turned to her. Met her eyes. They were wary. Guarded. But she was still here. Right here. Confronting me even though she didn’t even know she was doing it .
“Because I already know,” I said. “It’s the same reason I know why Julian gave it to you, not me. Because you were protecting someone—probably both of us. It’s what you do for loved ones.”
Her jaw tightened. “Do you know what’s on it?”
I stepped closer. Not enough to touch her but enough that she felt the shift in the air. “I don’t.” My head cocked slightly as I watched her. “But I see how you’ve reacted to it, and I’ll tell you again what I’ve told you before. Everything I’ve done, everything I do , is to protect what’s mine, Is. And that includes you.”
She looked away. Down. At the laptop. At the flash drive that I still held. “You’re not going to ask me what’s on it?”
I shook my head once. “I don’t need to.”
She swallowed. “It’s a lot.”
I gave a quiet laugh. There was no humor in it. “I expect it is.”
Silence stretched again. She was waiting. I knew it. Waiting for me to reassure her. To tell her this wasn’t as bad as it looked.
But I didn’t lie to Isla. Not anymore.
“What you saw,” I said, “probably wasn’t even half of what it could be.”
Her gaze flicked up. Met mine. And she didn’t look away. That was the moment I knew—she wasn’t running. But staying would cost her—more than she understood.
“There are pictures of me,” she said softly. “I only saw one, but there could be more.”
And just like that, my fury erupted.
My grip tightened around the flash drive until the edges bit into my palm. I opened her laptop with slow, deliberate movements, trying to keep calm, but I jammed the flash drive into the port .
I scanned the list of spreadsheets; you didn’t need to be a genius to know what they were. Extortion .
I opened the subfolder titled Photos . I clicked. The first one was of me, and the next one was of Isla. So was the next.
Pictures.
Of her.
They hadn’t just taken her. They’d observed her. Cataloged her. Followed her as if she were prey. My jaw clenched so hard I felt the crack in my temple.
“I’ll kill them,” I said, my voice like steel dragged through gravel. “One by one. I don’t care how far it goes. I don’t care what it costs.”
She flinched—not from fear but from the force of it.
The heat of it.
I dropped the flash drive back on the table and paced, my blood pounding. I couldn’t sit still. Not with the image in my head—Isla, caught mid-step in a grainy photo, someone on the other side of a lens thinking she was leverage.
That she was disposable.
She wasn’t.
Not to me.
I stopped at the far end of the room, my hands braced on the back of the counter. Breathing hard.
“I told myself keeping you hidden was best for you,” I said quietly. “That the less you knew, the safer you’d be. But you’ve never been safe.” I turned to look at her, seeing she was still watching me, silent, wide-eyed, but steady. “You were never going to be just some girl I left on the outside,” I said. “Not before they took you. Definitely not after I got you back.”
She took a step towards me. “Before they took me? When we were done? You never fought for me. You let me go.”
I met her gaze steadily. “Did I? ”
Isla swallowed, uncertainty in her eyes. “Julian gave us up,” she whispered, unshed tears in her eyes, her throat thick with them. “He was here. He told me he told them…things.”
I didn’t speak for a second. I wanted to lie. Wanted to give her something softer than the truth. But I respected her too much for that now. “I know.”
Accusation flashed in her eyes. “You didn’t tell me.”
“What do you want me to say, Is? The guy you trusted with more than your life stabbed you in the back?” I scoffed. “You’d have called me a liar.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t.” She wiped her eyes angrily. “They used him.”
My snort was loud. “Did they?” I walked back to the laptop and put the flash drive back in, when it was opened, I clicked on the first spreadsheet. “See this?” I looked at her, and she nodded. “Look at the date, Is.” I watched as she realized what I had shown her. “That isn’t Patrick or anyone else. That is Julian.”
Isla stepped backwards. “What? What are you saying?”
I straightened. “I’m saying that my friend Julian Turner has been collecting a dossier on me for years.” I shoved my hands into my pockets to prevent myself from grabbing her and shaking her when she stubbornly shook her head in denial.
“No.”
“ Yes .” I watched her as she struggled to accept it. “I have no reason to lie to you, Isla.”
“But you’re friends.”
“We were friends a long time ago,” I told her softly, hating to see her struggle with this. “Then it changed.”
Isla looked up. “How? What happened?”
It was my turn to look away. “You did.”
Her stupefied stare almost made me laugh. “You came to a college party and asked me to help our friend.” I rolled my shoulders back as I recalled that night. “We both know what a bastard his father was. We both know how he used to beat the shit out of him.”
“You killed him.”
This time, I did laugh. “No, babe, I didn’t.” I ran my hand over my hair. “All I did was help bury the fucker in a shallow grave.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Julian?”
“I didn’t get there in time,” I admitted. “Damage was done.”
The heavy silence lay between us, which was strange, as I felt lighter for the confession.
“Then why did your friendship change because of me?” she asked quietly. “I didn’t do anything.”
I huffed out a laugh. “I knew he was going to do something stupid.” I walked to the fridge and pulled out a beer, unscrewing it and taking a deep pull. “He asked me to help him.” I placed the bottle on the counter and looked over at her. “I said no.”
Isla bit her bottom lip. “Oh…”
“But you showed me the bruise on your arm that his father gave you. When he hurt you . I didn’t say no to you.” I took another drink. “I’ve never been able to say no to you, have I, Is?”
She looked so tortured. “Zayn?—”
I waved off her concern. “Don’t worry, I’ve killed plenty of men since then, so you can still think of me as the killer you’ve always believed me to be.”
“That isn’t helpful.” Her tone sharpened. “And don’t you think we’re past that? Past those stupid little comments?” When I didn’t reply, she looked at the laptop. “All of this is Julian? ”
“Nah, some of it. The rest will be that fuckhead Delaney.” I gripped the bottle tighter. “The pictures of you, the surveillance of you, that’s all that shady bastard.”
“Then why would Julian include the stuff he had on you?” Isla asked me in confusion.
“To remind me that he can.” I finished the bottle of beer.
Isla clicked on a few more files, and I saw her frown deepen. “This is fucked up.”
My grunt said more than words could.
She closed the laptop, looking back at me as I stood across the kitchen from her. “What now?”
The silence hung between us.
Her voice was low but tight, and she was angry when she spoke again. “You made yourself a target the night you came to get me.” Her fingers drummed off the countertop. “You should have just sent Rye.”
“Rye probably would’ve left you there.”
Her lips twitched in a smile that was gone as quickly as it came. “He knew they were going to take me.” Her head dipped. “He made me bait .”
I crossed the room, my finger sliding under her jaw, tilting her head up to look at me. “Hey, you are not bait. I am most definitely not a fucking target. I am a weapon. Your weapon. No one will hurt you. I will wreck this town if they try.” I lowered my head until our lips were a breath apart. “No one is safe if they hurt you, Is.”
She swallowed, lips parting like she didn’t know what to say. Like part of her wanted to argue and another part—the one I could see shaking in her hands—understood.
“I didn’t want this for you,” I said, my voice softer now. “But I can promise I will protect you. And if you want…” I almost choked on the words. “If you want to choose differently. If you want to walk. I’ll do my best to respect it. ”
Her eyes shone. But she didn’t cry. She nodded once, looking up at me. “I’m not walking away,” she whispered. “I don’t know what this makes us now…”
“Neither do I,” I admitted. “But I know what I won’t let us be.”
“And what’s that?”
“Over.”
Isla’s hands slid up my chest, curling around my neck. “The world’s gone mad, or maybe just me, but that could be the hottest, sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
My hands circled her waist, pulling her closer. “I want you to know everything,” I admitted. “So if you stay, you need to choose me , the real me, not some version of me you’ve made up in your head.”
Her breath hitched, and she stepped back, breaking my hold on her. I didn’t reach for her. Didn’t push. This, us, had to be her choice.
She reached out and intertwined her fingers with mine. “I choose you. I chose you, Zayn, the moment I plugged in the flash drive and understood that whatever was in it I would take to my grave.” Her voice trembled, but her grip remained steady. “I just didn’t realize what that really meant...until now.”
I squeezed her hand slightly, gesturing to the laptop. “This is going to be a fallout. A big one.” I watched her closely. “Blood needs to be spilled.”
Isla looked away before she looked back at me, her gaze steady. “Not Julian…”
I dampened down my rage. “He let them take you.” Reaching over, I flicked through some of the pictures. “You think Delayney’s idiots know where you buy your groceries?”
“They were following me, they could have?— ”
“For fuck’s sake, Is! Open your eyes.”
She flinched, but I saw the defeat in her eyes. “Maybe…maybe I don’t need to know the details of the…retaliation.”
Reaching out, I grabbed her and pulled her into me, holding her tight as her body shuddered against mine. I kissed the top of her head. “You don’t need to know,” I murmured against her hair. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you, but I’ll keep you away from it all.”
I heard her stifled sob, and I hugged her closer. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I know I need to be stronger.”
“You’re doing fine,” I whispered, kissing her forehead. “It’s a lot, I know.” I stepped back. “I do need to look at this closer.” I reached out and tapped the laptop. “You don’t need to stay.” I brushed a light kiss over her lips. “The bath in the main bathroom has a jacuzzi.”
Isla narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re sending me for a bath?”
“I am.” I didn’t care how misogynistic that made me appear. “He wanted me to see this for a reason, and I don’t want to find that reason while you’re within hearing distance…” I told her honestly.
“Or he wanted to scare me away,” she said with a guilty look that she tried to hide.
“Yeah.” I smiled. “It isn’t working though, is it?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m staying with you.” She sighed, her gaze drifting back to the laptop. “You think you’ll be angry? At whatever you find.” She looked at me and corrected herself. “Angrier?”
“Isla, you have no idea how fucking furious I am.”
“I’ll go soak in the tub,” she said with a dramatic roll of her eyes, her intent to make me smile, which worked. Rising up, she kissed me softly, and when she went to pull away, I grabbed her hips and dragged her closer, taking over the chaste kiss and making it more.
“I’ll be up later,” I promised as we separated.
She reached up and cupped my face. “I’m upstairs if you need me. Okay?” She hesitated. “Don’t hurt him,” she whispered. “Please, Zayn.”
I kissed her palm and didn’t promise her anything. When she left the kitchen, I turned to the laptop and the flash drive. The anger that had been simmering, that I had hidden from her, began to boil once more.
“Right, motherfucker, let’s see what you’ve got.”
I was still standing in the same spot when Rye let himself into the house a while later. No knock, no announcement—just the soft click of the door and the sound of his heavy boots crossing the threshold as if he belonged here. Because he did; he was the only person besides me who considered this house a home .
Julian had rarely come here, and as I clicked through file after file, I was grateful for it. Even though we’d changed the codes, I liked knowing how few times he had been.
Rye took one look at me, and his face darkened. “What’s happened now?” he asked with a sigh, seeing the empty beer bottle on the counter. He craned his neck to look into the living area. “Where’s Barnie?”
“Bath.”
He opened a beer, handed it to me, and opened his own. “That her laptop?” He looked closer. “Are you looking at a flash drive?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” he asked curiously, stepping closer, and I let him look over my shoulder. He gave out a low whistle. “What the fuck is this?”
I didn’t answer. He already knew. I stepped aside as he replaced me, flicking through the files quicker than I did. Pausing on the images of Isla, his face grew darker and darker as he clicked.
“This is a shit show.”
I leaned against the counter, eyes down, as I thought about my next move. “I know.”
“You were supposed to be smarter than this.”
I lifted my eyes slowly. “Careful.”
“Pretty late to be careful, your fucking business is on that.”
The words jarred, maybe because they were true, maybe because I didn’t want them to be. “You think I don’t know that?”
“This is a fucking problem.” He paused, his jaw tight. “Julian?”
I moved away from him, needing distance, needing something to do with my hands. I opened the fridge, grabbed a water bottle, and didn’t drink it.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “Julian gave her this, gave her to fucking Delaney, and let them drag her into the deep end, and now I’ve got the sharks circling.”
“And you’re bleeding,” Rye muttered.
I glanced up. “You think I don’t know that?”
“No, I think you’ve accepted it.” He pushed off the counter. “I think you’re ready to drown for her, but you’re not fucking fighting. Why is this asshole still walking?”
I stepped forward. Just once. Enough to close the space. “I will deal with Julian when the time comes.”
He didn’t flinch. “The time has come,” he said, quiet now. “You’re holding back because of Isla.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. “Maybe,” I said finally. “But trust me, I will handle this shit. I don’t need lectures. ”
“How will you handle it?” he demanded.
My look was hard, and final. “My way.”
Rye’s eyes narrowed. “Then you better be ready to break the whole fucking chessboard. Because they already know what she means to you, add in this crap and you’re a sitting fucking duck.”
I waited until he was finished and then I waited a little longer. My head cocked to the side and as I watched him, and Rye ran his hands through his hair. “You done?”
He shook his head as he looked away. “Yeah, I’m done.”
“You sure?” I moved closer. “You still look like you want to bitch some more.”
“I’m done.” He shot me a dirty look and I grinned.
“Do you trust me, Rye?”
“With my life, motherfucker, you know that.”
“Then trust me, Rye.” I held his gaze. “I’ve got this.” I saw his shoulders slump as he relaxed, taking in how confident I was, how sure I was. This shit was nothing I couldn’t handle. He knew that; he just needed to remember it.
“All right.” Rye took the bottle of beer I offered him and twisted off the cap. “Tell me what you need.”
The atmosphere in the kitchen changed from charged to comfortable. We both knew—the war wasn’t coming.
It had already started.