CHAPTER TWO: SECRETS AND SOFT LIES
1040 Words
Zayn’s world had always been black and white, targets and allies, enemies and strangers. But tonight, Aria Moretti sat across from him, smiling gently, and his heart melting for it. He could easily take her out, since he already knew who she was, but he didn’t know what held him back.
They both enjoyed their conversation alongside their drink, Aria sat carefree unaware that the man sitting with her had almost pulled a trigger aimed at her brother. Unaware that she was the reason he hadn’t. She was her brothers god.
“So, what do you do, Zayn?” she asked, leaning slightly closer.
He paused. “Security consulting.”
Not a complete lie. He’d secured lives and ended them.
“Sounds… dangerous,” she teased.
“It can be. Depends on the day.”
Aria chuckled, and Zayn found himself staring again. She was too soft to be part of a cartel family. Too kind, too open. Nothing like her father the deadly man who had bloodied half of Europe.
“Do you always talk to strangers in bars?” she asked.
“No. You’re the first in a while.”
“Lucky me,” she said, voice light. But her eyes studied him. “You’re not like most people I meet. You’re quiet.”
Zayn didn’t respond. He couldn’t tell her that silence was the only way to survive in his world.
Instead, he said, “You looked like you needed someone to talk to.”
Aria sighed. “You’re not wrong. My family’s complicated. I guess I needed a break.”
He nodded. “I get that.”
She smiled sadly, eyes dropping to her hands. “My father is… controlling. Powerful. He expects loyalty but gives nothing in return.”
Zayn’s heartbeat slowed.
She knew. Maybe not everything, but she wasn’t as blind as he thought.
“Sounds rough,” he said carefully.
“It is.” She looked up, meeting his gaze. “That’s why I keep my distance.”
Zayn wanted to ask more, but his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Unknown Sender
You missed your shot. We need to talk.
He muted it, not breaking eye contact.
“Sorry,” he said. “Work.”
Aria raised a brow. “Late hours?”
“Always.”
She leaned back. “Well, Mr. Security Consultant, would you walk me out? It’s late, and I don’t want to call my driver.”
Zayn wasn’t reluctant . Every part of his training screamed at him to walk away, cut ties, vanish.
But he stood. “Of course.”
Outside, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Aria pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as they stepped into the cool night.
“I used to love the rain,” she said. “When I was little, I’d sit by the window for hours. I thought it washed the world clean.”
Zayn glanced at her. “What changed?”
“I grew up.”
He understood that too well.
They stopped near the corner, where a black car was parked. She looked up at him.
“Thank you, Zayn.”
“For what?”
“For being kind.”
That word burned. He wasn’t kind. He was lethal. Cold. Calculated.
But somehow, with her, he didn’t want to be any of those things.
She reached for the door handle — and froze.
A black motorcycle sped by, too close, too fast.
Then
Bang!
The window behind them shattered, glass raining down like shards of ice.
Zayn’s reflexes kicked in.
He grabbed Aria and pulled her down behind the car, shielding her body with his.
Another shot rang out, this time from a rooftop.
“Stay down,” he hissed, eyes scanning the shadows.
He caught the glint of a scope across the street. Not cartel style, this was clean, professional. Someone like him. If his emotions couldn’t let him do the job someone else has to.
Zayn cursed under his breath. It wasn’t a warning. It was a message.
They knew he didn’t finish the job.
He looked back down at Aria. She was trembling, her eyes wide in shock.
“W-what was that?” she stammered.
“Drive-by,” he said quickly. “Might not be safe to stay here.”
Aria nodded shakily. “Can you take me home?”
Zayn didn’t want to. He shouldn’t. But he couldn’t leave her alone now, not when the people after him were willing to shoot in public.
“Yeah,” he said. “Come with me.”
The drive to her apartment was quiet. Aria clutched her purse tightly, eyes searching at every corner like shadows might attack her again.
Zayn drove with one hand, the other resting near the hidden pistol in his jacket.
He’d dealt with danger before. But never with someone else in the car. Never someone innocent.
“Is this normal?” she finally asked. “That kind of violence?”
“Not usually. But this city’s changing.”
She glanced at him. “How do you stay so calm?”
Zayn didn’t answer. Years of being numb did that to a man.
Her place was on the 14th floor of a luxury tower, sleek, modern, minimal. Everything screamed money, but nothing felt like home.
Aria stepped inside and sighed.
“You can sit, if you want. I’ll get you water.”
Zayn stayed near the door, eyes scanning the windows, the balcony, every possible entrance.
Old habits.
When she returned, he took the glass, even though he wasn’t thirsty.
“I feel like I should be thanking you,” she said quietly. “You saved my life.”
He looked at her. “Maybe someone else would’ve.”
“But they didn’t.”
Zayn shifted. “You should stay indoors for a few days.”
“Are you coming back?”
That question stunned him.
He should say no. Walk away. Let her live in peace.
But instead, he said, “If you want me to.”
She smiled softly. If you don’t mind you could spend the night.
And Zayn Cross the killer, billionaire, liar — didn’t know how to protect her from the one truth she didn’t know yet.
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