Chapter 8: Blood between Us
1679 Words
Layla’s body finally gave out — too much pleasure, too much emotion. She drifted off in Zayn’s arms, feeling safer than she ever had in her life.
But Zayn stayed awake, his fingers lazily tracing her bare back, his mind racing with things he could never tell her.
Until now.
He pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering against her skin.
“I’ve been watching you for a long time, Layla,” he confessed in a low voice, almost too soft for her to hear.
“Before you even knew I existed… I was there. Protecting you. Hunting anyone who dared even look at you the wrong way.”
A dark, broken chuckle rumbled in his chest.
“You thought it was coincidence you never got mugged in that shitty neighborhood?” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her face. “It wasn’t. I had men tailing you. Cameras following you. I tore apart anyone who even thought about hurting you.”
Layla stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
Zayn’s jaw tightened as he stared down at her delicate face.
“You were always meant to be mine, little dove,” he whispered. “You just didn’t know it yet.”
He stayed there for a while longer, holding her close, until his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Zayn cursed under his breath when he saw the message: It’s done. Get rid of the mess.
He carefully eased himself out from under Layla’s body, dressing quickly, strapping a gun to his side. One last kiss to her forehead, and then he was gone — swallowed into the night.
Layla stirred awake to the distant creak of the front door.
At first, she thought it was a dream — the house was so massive, it made strange noises at night.
But then she heard heavy, uneven footsteps, almost dragging across the floor.
A chill ran through her body.
Still naked, she quickly grabbed one of Zayn’s shirts from the floor, slipping it on and padding barefoot down the hall.
The sight that met her at the top of the stairs made her heart stop.
Zayn stood in the grand foyer — blood staining his shirt, his jeans, his hands.
He was breathing heavily, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. His dark hair was a mess, his knuckles split and raw.
He didn’t see her at first.
He ripped off his bloody shirt in one violent motion, tossing it onto the marble floor. Then he braced himself against the wall, head bowed, like he was trying to hold himself together.
Layla’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Zayn…?”
He stiffened.
Slowly, he turned — and when his eyes met hers, they weren’t the warm, hungry eyes she knew.
They were cold. Dark. The eyes of a man who had just killed.
Layla stumbled back a step, instinctively hugging herself.
“What… what happened to you?” she whispered, her throat tight with fear.
Zayn didn’t answer right away.
He just stared at her — at the way she looked in his shirt, her legs bare, her hair messy from sleep.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said finally, voice low and dangerous. “Go back to bed, Layla.”
But she didn’t move.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
“You’re covered in blood, Zayn. You think I can just pretend I didn’t see this?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“You don’t need to know,” he said roughly. “You’re not part of that world.”
“You dragged me into it the moment you took me,” she snapped back, voice cracking with emotion. “You made me yours. You don’t get to hide who you are now.”
Zayn’s eyes flashed with something dangerous.
“I killed for you,” he growled. “Everything I do — everything I’ve ever done — was to protect you, Layla.”
Layla shook her head, tears stinging her eyes.
“I didn’t ask for that! I didn’t ask for any of this!”
“You think you could’ve survived without me watching you?” he barked, taking a step forward. “You think the world out there would’ve spared you because you’re sweet and innocent?”
She flinched, her back hitting the wall.
Zayn immediately stopped, his fists clenching at his sides, forcing himself to stay back.
“You have no idea what monsters exist outside this house,” he said, voice lower, rougher. “I’m the only thing standing between you and them.”
“And what are you, Zayn?” she whispered brokenly. “A monster too?”
For a moment, the world seemed to stop.
Zayn’s expression shattered — all that icy control slipping for just a second.
He looked at her like she had stabbed him straight through the heart.
“Yes,” he said finally, his voice hollow. “I am.”
Tears blurred Layla’s vision.
She didn’t know if it was fear, heartbreak, or something worse that made her chest ache so badly.
Zayn took a shaky breath, raking a bloody hand through his hair.
“I tried to hide it from you,” he muttered. “Tried to keep you in a different world, untouched by all this s**t. But you’re here now, Layla. You belong to me.”
He moved closer again — slower this time — giving her a chance to run if she wanted to.
But Layla didn’t run.
She stood there, trembling, staring up at him — at the man who had destroyed for her, killed for her, loved her with a dark, terrifying kind of devotion she couldn’t even understand.
“Go ahead,” Zayn rasped, his eyes burning into hers. “Hate me. Be afraid of me. But don’t you ever think you can leave me.”
He grabbed her face between his bloodstained hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“You’re mine, Layla,” he breathed. “Even if it destroys us both.”
Layla’s lip quivered.
Her heart screamed at her to run.
But her body — her soul — stayed rooted to the spot, helpless against the dark gravity that was Zayn Morelli.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring his face.
She hated him.
She needed him.
She didn’t even know who she was anymore when he looked at her like that — like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
Layla swallowed hard, forcing her voice to steady.
“I need… time,” she whispered, barely able to breathe the words out. “I need space, Zayn. Away from you. Just… for a little while.”
The air between them snapped taut, the tension sharp enough to draw blood.
Zayn’s expression darkened instantly.
“What did you just say?” he rasped, disbelief flashing across his face.
Layla backed up a step, wrapping her arms around herself.
“I can’t think when I’m around you. I can’t even breathe right. I need… to settle myself. Somewhere away from this house. Away from you.”
Zayn’s whole body stiffened — like she’d hit him harder than any bullet ever could.
His fists clenched at his sides, the blood on his knuckles stark against his skin.
“No,” he said low and dangerous. “No, Layla. You’re not going anywhere.”
Her chest tightened painfully, but she forced herself to hold his gaze.
“I’m not leaving forever,” she whispered. “I just… need a few days. To think. To understand what’s happening to me.”
“To us,” she added brokenly.
Zayn shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t even process the words.
“You think I’m going to just let you walk out of here,” he said, voice low, lethal. “After what we are?”
“You can’t keep me trapped here,” she said, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You can’t control how I feel.”
The words seemed to physically hit him.
For a split second, the cold, ruthless Mafia boss cracked — and underneath, Layla saw the man.
The broken boy who didn’t know how to love without gripping so tightly it hurt.
He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, battling himself.
When he opened them again, they were softer — but still burning.
“You want space?” he growled. “Fine.”
He stepped back, putting a deliberate distance between them, though it seemed to cost him.
“You’ll stay in the guest house,” he said sharply. “On the property. Guards posted everywhere.”
Layla blinked.
“I meant… maybe at my apartment, just for a little while—”
“You think I’m letting you out of my reach?” Zayn’s voice cut like a whip. “Out of my sight? After what just happened tonight?”
His eyes gleamed dangerously under the low light.
“You’re crazy if you think I’d risk losing you. I’d burn this entire f*****g city to the ground before I let that happen.”
Layla’s knees weakened at the raw, terrifying devotion in his words.
But she lifted her chin stubbornly.
“I need this,” she said firmly, even as her voice trembled.
Something shattered in Zayn’s eyes.
But he nodded stiffly — once — like he was carving the decision into his own flesh.
“Tomorrow morning,” he said, voice like gravel. “You move into the guest house.”
He paused, then added, softer but no less dangerous:
“But Layla… don’t ever think distance is going to change what you are to me.”
“You’re mine,” he breathed. “Even when you hate me.”
Layla bit her lip to hold back the sob rising in her throat.
Without another word, she turned and fled upstairs, the weight of Zayn’s stare burning into her back the whole way.
And for the first time since this whole twisted story began…
Layla wondered if she would ever truly escape him.
Or if a part of her didn’t want to.
- Writer
