In his crossfire

CHAPTER NINE:*Watching from the shadows*

The hallway was mostly empty.

Zayne stood near the second-floor railing, a perfect vantage point over the front steps of the school. From up there, no one noticed him — which was how he preferred it.

Below, he saw them.

Amara and Eli, walking side by side, talking. At first, it looked innocent. Friendly. But then Eli leaned in a little closer, smiling like he knew something she didn’t. His hand brushed her arm, and Zayne’s jaw tightened.

He saw the way Amara paused, caught off guard — not pulling away, but not leaning in either.

Then Eli hugged her.

Quick. Casual.

But Zayne didn’t miss the way Eli’s eyes lingered afterward, like he was claiming something.

His fingers curled around the cold railing.

He hadn’t meant to care. He never did. Caring made people weak, made them vulnerable. But with Amara… it was different. He’d noticed her the moment she stepped into class — the sharpness in her eyes, the quiet strength in her voice. She didn’t pretend. She didn’t play games.

That’s what scared him most.

Because even now, watching her walk away with someone else, he felt that pull — the one he couldn’t explain or ignore.

A voice broke through his thoughts.

“You watching her again?”

Zayne turned slightly to see Jayden, his friend and only real confidant, leaning against the wall beside him.

“I’m not watching,” Zayne muttered.

Jayden smirked. “You’re staring at her like she’s the only damn star in the sky.”

Zayne didn’t respond.

Jayden glanced down at the path Amara had just taken. “You gonna say something? Or let that Eli guy charm his way in?”

Zayne’s expression darkened.

“I’m not worried about Eli,” he said flatly. “Guys like him always show their true colors eventually.”

Jayden raised an eyebrow. “And what about you? What color are "you"showing?”

Zayne didn’t answer.

Because the truth was — even he wasn’t sure yet.

The library was unusually quiet that afternoon. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long golden streaks across the study tables. Amara sat at one end, laptop open, books spread out. Zayne arrived late — as usual.

She didn’t look up when he slid into the seat across from her.

“You’re late,” she said curtly, eyes fixed on her screen.

Zayne leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. “And you’ve already done half the work without talking to me. So we’re even.”

She glanced at him now, brows furrowed. “I messaged you twice. You ignored both.”

Zayne scoffed. “Didn’t know I had to check in with you like some intern.”

Amara’s expression hardened. “Maybe if you cared even a little about the assignment—”

“I do care,” he cut in, voice low but sharp. “Just not about impressing everyone with perfect answers and fake smiles.”

Amara blinked. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

He shrugged, eyes distant. “Isn’t that what people like you do? Stay polished. In control. Untouched.”

The words hit her like a slap. She stared at him, shocked.

“You don’t know me,” she said, voice trembling.

“Exactly,” he replied. “And yet you act like you know me.”

Silence stretched between them like a razor wire. Neither moved.

Amara finally stood, packing her books with rigid movements.

“This was a mistake,” she muttered. “Next time, just send your part through email.”

Zayne didn’t stop her as she walked away.

An hour later, the hallway echoed with laughter.

Brielle’s — high-pitched and smug — and Zayne’s, quieter, but undeniably present.

He stood against the lockers, Brielle pressed in close, her hand on his arm as she whispered something. He smirked. She laughed louder.

A few students passed, whispering. Amara included.

She didn’t stop. Didn’t look. But her stomach twisted.

Across the hall, Zayne noticed her.

He said nothing.

Did nothing.

Just let Brielle step even closer.

If ignoring the ache meant pretending he didn’t care — then fine.

Let her think he didn’t.