26. Isla
CHAPTER 26
ISLA
By the time I made it back to the house, the evening was still warm and pleasant, but the sun was beginning to dip. Zayn’s house—clean lines, reinforced steel, guarded entrances, and all—still looked like a painting from a life that wasn’t mine. And yet…it could be.
If I wanted it to—at least, that’s what I was being offered. I really needed to talk to him about this, but I had other things on my mind that were taking precedence.
I let myself in, seeing no other cars in the driveway, but that meant nothing. They were like superheroes, and I had no doubt that Rye, at the very least, had a Batcave or something similar. Or maybe he just utilized the garage, unlike me.
The thought of Rye as Robin to Zayn’s Batman had my mind going down a dangerous path of what handy little gadgets Zayn would have for me in the bedroom.
Then I realized Zayn was definitely not superhero material; he was more likely the villain of the story, prone to tying me up rather than saving me, and that thought took my mind down a much darker, kinkier path.
Fighting the blush that I felt bloom on my cheeks, I left my tote on the console table in the hall and toed off my shoes, aware of the silence in the house. It wasn’t lonely—not quite—but the quiet settled on me differently tonight.
The man from earlier had unsettled me. All day, I felt as though I was looking over my shoulder, and the thought of being watched was even more disturbing without knowing who was watching me. Zayn had sent Jayden, and I knew there were others, but the man from today was definitely not one of Zayn’s men.
It had been such a brief, bizarre encounter; it wasn’t even threatening, just a reminder that I wasn’t invisible anymore. I hadn’t told Zayn. Not yet. Not because I wanted to hide it, but because I needed to understand it first.
What it meant.
What I would do if it happened again.
I made my way into the kitchen and pulled up short when I saw Rye seated at the breakfast counter, a tablet open in front of him, a mug of coffee in his hand. He wore a light-gray suit with the jacket beside him. His vest remained unbuttoned. He was never relaxed, always ready to go at a moment’s notice.
I had seen Zayn in casual clothes, but I had never seen Rye in anything other than suits. Did he sleep? What did he do to relax? He appeared to be a man who didn’t believe in comfort but had chosen to tolerate it for a few minutes by removing his jacket.
“You’re staring,” he said without lifting his eyes. “And you’re late.”
Busted. I walked into the kitchen, heading for the fridge. I was starving. “I wasn’t aware I had a curfew.”
“You don’t.” He sipped his coffee. “But you have eyes on you, and you should know when you’re being followed. ”
I pulled my head out of the fridge and looked at him around the side of the door. “Wh-what?”
Rye set his mug down. “Zayn told me to keep watch.” He shrugged. “You are shit at being subtle when you get spooked.”
I closed the fridge door and walked to the breakfast counter. I took a seat across from him. “You were watching me?” He didn’t respond, but I knew he was. “I don’t want to be watched, Rye.”
“Too bad. That’s not how this works.” He didn’t say it unkindly; rather, his tone was plain. The words fell heavily—like stones dropping into a well.
I struggled with what I wanted. I wanted this man to like me. Okay, he was never going to like me, but I would take tolerate me. I also wanted them not to feel like I needed to be watched.
The silence lingered between us, and then I asked, “You think I’m a liability, right?”
Rye narrowed his eyes slightly. “Yes.”
“Why?” I leaned forward. “No bullshit, Rye, tell me why I’m a liability.”
“You aren't suited for this.”
I made the same sound as a buzzer when the answer was wrong. “Try again.”
He leaned back, his eyes narrowed with focus. “Not a fan of the sound effects, Barnie.” He tilted his head slightly. It resembled the way Zayn did it so closely that I couldn't hide my surprise at how alike they were. “What’s wrong?” he asked sharply.
“No-nothing,” I stammered. “Try again.”
“You’re new to this,” he said without any preamble. “You’re new to the relationship you have with Zayn?—”
“I love him. ”
Rye didn’t miss a beat. “You’re in love with a man whom most people are afraid to stand next to. I think you’re smart enough to understand that comes with a cost.”
“I thought you were the cost,” I joked lightly, but it fell flat beneath Rye’s steady gaze. “I don’t want to be a burden to him.” I took a deep breath. “Or you.”
He didn’t respond to my inclusion of him. He finished his coffee and stood up. “Then don’t be.” His voice was softer, just a touch, but I noticed. “Learn the rules and pay attention. If you don’t want to be protected…then make yourself harder to reach.”
“You’re right,” I admitted. “I do want to understand more. I don’t want to be in the way. If I can…help or something.”
Rye’s eyebrow lifted. “You want to help?”
Did I? Five minutes ago, I would have said no. Now? Now I felt the change. “Yes, I want to know what it costs him to maintain this lifestyle. Only then will I understand if I can pay it too.”
Rye studied me for a long moment, and I wondered if he also felt that we’d had two very different conversations in this house today.
“Zayn won’t tell you everything.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for everything,” I said quickly, noticing the flash of impatience across his face. “Not from Zayn,” I added. “But I thought maybe you could tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because you won’t sugarcoat it.”
“Neither would Zayn.”
I looked down at my folded hands and took my first step in trusting Rye. “I don’t lie beside you at night,” I said softly. “If you tell me, I can separate the two, and it will ease me until I don’t need to separate them.” I looked up at him and met his unwavering gaze. “Baby steps. Rye style. ”
Rye picked up his mug and walked over to the sink. I watched him as he reached for his suit jacket and put it on, buttoning it quickly. He looked around the kitchen, making sure he had everything. “Lock up after me. Turner turns up tonight, the door stays closed. Right?”
“Right.”
He nodded and turned to leave, but before he left the room, he looked over his shoulder at me. “I’ll think about it.”
And in Rye speak, that might as well have been a handshake.
Later, I was curled up on the couch with my laptop beside me, reading an email and watching the clock. I knew I needed an early night for my early wakeup the next morning, yet I stubbornly stayed up, aware it would come back to bite me in the ass in the morning. I looked up when I heard the front door open.
I remained where I was, listening as I waited for the weight of his footsteps to find me.
And they did.
Zayn paused at the entrance of the living room, his top button undone as he loosened his cuff links, rolling up his sleeves.
“Hey,” I greeted quietly. “Long day?”
“Yeah, and it’s not over.” He crossed the room, bending to press a kiss to my forehead. “You okay?”
I swallowed. “I guess.” My nose scrunched. “Not really?”
Zayn pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “Tell me.”
“I…” I was at a loss for words. I felt like a silly schoolgirl with her first crush. Zayn straightened and took a step back; it was such a simple action, completely unrelated, but it felt as if he was stepping out of reach, and I blurted out everything I wanted to say. “I want to know what we are, Zayn.” Despite my panicked outburst, my voice didn’t shake. “Because I’m not just hiding here anymore. I don’t want to be passing through or staying until I’m over what happened in that warehouse the other night. I need to know if I’m building something with you or if I’m completely mistaken and this is just…just.” I sighed. “You know…”
His expression was unreadable. He sat down beside me, tapping my legs until I lifted them, and then placed them over his. After a long moment that felt like thirty million years, he sniffed. “I thought I made it perfectly clear.” He was so matter-of-fact. “You’re mine.”
I blinked. “That’s not?—”
“You’re mine ,” he repeated, his voice firm, his fingers tracing circles over my calf. “And I’m yours. That’s what this is. It’s not simple. It’s not safe for you, and I am sure you could do a hell of a lot better. This is real. We are real , Isla.”
My breath caught.
“Rye told me you talked,” he continued, still not looking at me. “If you’re in, you’ll have all of me.” He glanced at me, and I wanted to kiss him so badly when I saw the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “You’ll have me, not just the part that fucks you until you scream or kisses you goodnight.” When he noticed my blush at his crudeness, I saw the familiar smirk I’d come to love. “You want to know what it costs? I’ll show you. But once I do, there’s no pretending anymore.”
I didn’t hesitate. Pulling my legs from his and sitting up, I pushed myself to my feet, rising from the couch. Kneeling between his spread legs, I sat back on my ankles while looking up at him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been pretending with you,” I told him honestly .
His eyes searched mine, and whatever he saw made him lean forward, his hand circling the nape of my neck. He pulled me in and pressed his lips to mine. He was not rough, not greedy, just solid.
Certain.
The kind of kiss that answered questions I didn’t know how to ask.
He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine. For a man who conducted deals in the shadows, Zayn’s silence was louder than most people’s shouting. It filled the space between us and demanded honesty.
“I told Rye I wanted to help not be such a burden,” I whispered. “I don’t want to be watched. I want to be able to protect myself.”
Zayn didn’t flinch. “He tell you that was a bad idea?”
I smiled faintly. “He told me that I was a liability and needed to learn the rules.”
Zayn huffed in amusement. “Sounds like him.”
“I’m serious, Zayn.” I pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to be shielded from everything. I don’t want to be tucked away while your world keeps spinning around me.”
His jaw ticked. “It’s not about hiding you, Isla. It’s about keeping you out of the line of fire.”
“I’m already in it,” I told him softly. “I don’t want to stand on the outskirts of the fire that burns around you while you walk through it.”
He watched me, his gaze guarded as he listened, but I knew as soon as I spoke the words that I truly meant them.
I reached for his hand and brought it to my chest, pressing his palm against my racing heart as if he were the only thing keeping it there.
“I’m scared,” I confessed, rising to meet his gaze. “Not of you,” I quickly clarified. “I’m afraid of what loving you might cost me.”
Zayn remained still as his hand reached out, his finger tracing a line down my neck while his thumb brushed softly against my collarbone. “You’re not the only one afraid.”
My breath hitched.
“I’ve never had anything I wasn’t willing to lose,” he admitted softly. “Until you.” His hands tugged at my waist, and I leaned in, resting my head on his shoulder, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.
We stayed that way for a while. There were no more questions; there were still uncertainties between us, but they didn’t feel like they were separating us.
It was just us.
Just skin, breath, and silence—the intricate simplicity of two people getting to know each other piece by piece, discovering how to love and trust in a world shaped by sharp edges and betrayal.
Eventually, I felt his arms wrap around me tighter, pulling and lifting me from the floor, tucking me into his body to hold me close. My head rested on his chest as he leaned his cheek against my hair, offering an unspoken promise in his own language.
He didn’t have to say he loved me. In the silence, I knew.
I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, tangled together on the couch, the hum of the house filling in the words we didn’t need to say. My muscles ached, not from exhaustion but from the tension I had been holding on to for days.
Weeks maybe.
I shifted slightly and felt his grip loosen but not release me. “Come to bed,” I said quietly, barely above a whisper.
Zayn didn’t move immediately. He simply watched me for a moment before nodding once, allowing me to pull him off the couch. There was no urgency, no heat behind it—just something weightier, something real.
He followed me down the hallway, both of us moving as if we were afraid to break the fragile stillness between us. We climbed the stairs in silence. In the bedroom, I slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash the day off my face. When I came out, he had pulled back the covers.
He was on his side of the bed. His. Mine. I felt my heart begin to race.
The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of the hallway light spilling through the crack in the door. I climbed in and allowed the sheets to settle over me as he slid in beside me, fully clothed except for his watch and belt, both placed on the nightstand.
I faced him. He lay on his back, gazing at the ceiling. After watching him for a moment, I whispered, “What are you thinking?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he spoke, his voice was firm and steady. “That you’re still here.”
My heart twisted. “Were you worried I wouldn’t be?”
“Good things tend to disappear from my life.” He turned his head to look at me. “Are you the exception?”
I reached out, my fingers brushing against the inside of his forearm. His skin felt warm and solid. H u man . “I’m not going anywhere, Zayn.”
“The jacuzzi was that good?” he asked, and I laughed at his playfulness.
“It was perfect.” I snuggled into his side. “Almost as perfect as being here with you.” I looked up at him. “I’m not leaving.”
“I know,” he said though he still sounded as if he were convincing himself. “I have to go back to the club,” he murmured softly. “But I’ll wait for you to fall asleep first.”
“I’d like that.”
We lay there like that, the silence comfortable between us. I inched closer to him, my head tucked against his shoulder, one leg hooking over his as if I’d done it a hundred times before. He adjusted slightly, pulling the blanket higher over my shoulder, then he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
Just as I was drifting into sleep, I heard his soft murmur. “I would give you the world, Isla.”
I felt him pull away, and my fingers caught in his shirt, stopping him. “I don’t need the world, Zayn,” I told him, my eyes heavy with sleep and my body relaxed. “I just need this.” I released his shirt. “I just need you.”
Lips pressed into mine, soft and gentle, before he pulled away.
In the darkness, I heard his voice, low and rough. “You’ll always have me.”
I heard the door close, and sleep enveloped me, pulling me into a deep, comfortable slumber.
I would stay with him even though his life was filled with fire and danger. When you loved someone and their world burned with danger at every turn, you learned to survive in the ashes.