Zayn’s POV
The car ride with Alina’s father feels like torture. My chest is tight, my hands restless against my knees. Every second I spend here is a second stolen from her. She needs me. I should be at her side, not trapped in this silent car with him. Why wouldn’t she let me stay? Doesn’t she know I could take care of her better than anyone else—better than Naomi, better than anyone?
“You don’t have to worry. Naomi will take care of her,” her father says suddenly, his voice cutting through my storm of thoughts. For a moment, it feels like he can read me.
I force a faint smile, even though inside I’m screaming.
“Where are we going?” I ask, keeping my tone calm, flat.
“You’re an eyewitness to what happened to my daughter. Two police officers are waiting for us at the hospital,” he rep
