Zayn’s POV
I push my hair back, frustration burning through me. I should be with Alina — not stuck in this godforsaken place that looks deserted as hell.
“They’ll be here soon,” the man beside me says. I roll my eyes.
“What the f**k am I even doing here?” I snap, annoyance threaded through every word.
“How am I supposed to know that? I’m just following the boss’s orders to bring you here,” he replies, his voice rough. My fist tightens. Then, in the distance, two jeeps roar up the dusty road. “They’re here,” he announces. Who the f**k is here?
The cars screech to a halt. Men jump out and drag three other men — beaten, barely conscious — and throw them onto the ground.
“Catch this.” One of them hurls a bag at me. “That’s for the boss. You can check it.”
I frown. What am I checking? I
