In his crossfire

CHAPTER TWELVE:*Blood & warnings*

The old train yard was silent, the air thick with rust, oil, and secrets that never died.

Zayne stepped into the alley behind the old train yard , pulling his hoodie tighter over his head. His hands were already balled into fists—he wasn’t here for a reunion.

The cold bit at his neck, but he didn't flinch. He moved like he belonged in the shadows -Like he was part of them

They were already there.

Three figures were waiting, silhouettes in the flickering streetlight. Same faces. Same arrogance. Only this time, the stakes were different.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to show up,” said Rocco, flipping his butterfly knife between his fingers like he’d been rehearsing for this moment.

Zayne didn’t respond. He just stared, cold and still.

“You’ve been ghosting us, Crossfire,” said the tall one—Vince. “Skipping calls, dodging meetups. You think just because you put on a school uniform you’re clean now, pretending you are not part of us ".

Rocco grinned. “Word is, he’s too busy playing tutor with some sweet little science partner. What’s her name again? Amara?”

Zayne’s eyes flicked—just once. That was all they needed.

Rocco’s grin widened. “Touchy subject, huh?”

“You don’t say her name,” Zayne muttered.

“Oh, so it’s like that?” Vince chuckled. “Guess what, Crossfire—we did some digging. Her last name rang a bell. Real familiar.”

Zayne tensed.

“Her parents,” Rocco continued, stepping forward, voice low, “they used to mess around in places they shouldn’t. Trying to expose people. Clean up the gangs. Real noble stuff. Thought they were brave but they bled like everyone else"

"You really think you can save her?, you couldn't even save her parents ".

He paused, letting the silence stretch.

“Until their car mysteriously flipped off that hill on the outskirts. You remember that crash, don’t you?”

Zayne’s stomach twisted. He remembered it too well.

“We didn’t even know she was that Amara,” Vince added, fake sympathy coating his voice. “Funny how life loops around, huh? The orphan girl now clings to the only guy who could end up getting her killed again.”

Zayne stepped forward. “You touch her, I swear—”

“You’ll what?” Rocco’s smile faded. “You’re already in too deep, Zayne. You don’t get to walk away from us. And if you try…”.

"One wrong move and she bleeds too"

He pulled something from his coat—an old photo. Crumpled. Faded.

It was Amara… and her parents.

Zayne’s chest tightened. “Where did you get that?”

“We never forget faces,” Rocco said, voice venomous. “If we couldn’t get to them… we can always get to her.”

Zayne lunged.

The fight exploded into chaos—fists flying, bodies slamming into rusted containers, grunts echoing through the yard. Zayne didn’t hold back. This wasn’t about proving strength. It was about warning them.

Don’t. Touch. Her.

When it was over, Vince lay groaning on the ground, Rocco stood with a bloody lip, and Zayne’s knuckles were raw and dripping.

Breathing heavily, Rocco wiped his mouth. “That anger won’t save her.”

Zayne’s voice was low. “If anything happens to her, I’ll burn everything down. Starting with you.”

“Too late,” Rocco whispered. “This is bigger than you now. You can’t protect her forever. Not when she’s already marked. We are watching every move you both make ".

Zayne stood in the silence of their retreat, chest rising and falling, Amara’s face flashing through his mind—her smile, her laugh, her stubbornness.

He had to choose.

And he already had.

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