Zayn’s POV
I pulled her closer, my arms locking around her like I could fuse us together if I just held on tight enough. Letting her go wasn’t an option—not now, not ever. She came rushing here because she was worried about me. That meant something. I had to use this moment, twist it if I had to, to make sure she didn’t walk away again.
“Zayn, let me go,” she said, pushing back until the warmth between us broke. My hands dropped, but my eyes stayed fixed on her, searching for something to keep her rooted here. Blackmail wasn’t pretty, but desperation made you ugly in ways you didn’t care about.
“How did this happen?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.
I didn’t answer right away—just kept staring, letting my expression soften into something pitiful, something that might pull her s
