THE RUIN HE CHOSE

THE TRIGGER

AURELIA

By the time I got back, Lorenzo had finished eating, he was wiping his mouth with a napkin when I sat down, without another word he stood up and left. Zayn was typing rapidly on his phone before he suddenly stood up.

“We have to leave now,” he said. He stood up and immediately forgot everything about being a sweet and lovely boyfriend. I bowed lightly to his dad and grabbed my purse, running after him in my heels. I could barely keep up with him. He got into an elevator and didn't even bother holding the door open. I increased my speed trying to catch up with him before the doors shut.

I gave him a nasty glare but he completely ignored me. We didn't say anything as we got into the car downstairs and drove out.

“Where are we heading to?” I asked after a long moment of battling internally with myself. I wasn't disappointed. He flat out ignored me and rapidly kept typing away on his tablet. I swallowed and tried to fold the edge of the gown as it still made me very uncomfortable.

The car ride was silent. The drive went on, my question was left hanging while I battled with my dress. Zayn was on his tablet busy with God knows what.

“Stop squirming around, it's getting on my nerves,” he snapped at me. I stilled. Something about his voice was so commanding I found myself submitting immediately. I stayed glued to my seat for a while until the driver finally pulled up in front of a penthouse.

He stepped out of the car and walked towards the house.I watched Zayn stride toward the entrance of the building, his shoulders squared like he owned the night itself. The city lights glittered coldly, but here on this private level, everything felt insulated, sealed off from the chaos.

He stopped in front of what looked like a sleek black panel, pressed his palm against it, then leaned in for a retinal scan. A soft blue light swept over his eye. After that came a numeric code tapped into a hidden keypad, followed by a quiet voice prompt that he answered with a low, clipped phrase I couldn’t quite catch. Only then did the heavy glass doors slide open with a whisper of hydraulics, revealing the dim interior beyond.

I grumbled under my breath, arms crossed tight over my chest. “All of this can be hacked, you know. Retinal spoofs, voice synthesis, cloned prints, give me twenty minutes and a decent laptop and I could probably walk right in.”

Zayn paused just inside the threshold and glanced back at me, one corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been amusement. Or warning. “That’s why I hired you, so you can protect me regardless of situations. Hackers, rivals, feds, doesn’t matter. I need someone who thinks like them.”

His words landed heavier than I expected. I realized that there were no bodyguards lurking in the shadows like the last house. No silent suits with earpieces, it was just him and me. The absence felt deliberate. Intimate, almost. Dangerous.

I stepped inside after him, the doors sealing shut behind us with a soft, final click. The penthouse was far smaller than I’d imagined for someone like Zayn but every inch screamed money and menace. Dark charcoal walls absorbed the low light from recessed fixtures, making the space feel smaller, like a predator’s den

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering sprawl of the city below, but the glass was tinted so heavily it turned the lights into blood-red smears. A low glass table held a crystal decanter of something amber and two heavy tumblers, nothing else. No photos, no clutter, no warmth. Just sleek metal accents, a few abstract paintings that seemed to twist into violent shapes the longer you stared, and the faint scent of gun oil and expensive cologne hanging in the air.

It felt like a place where people disappeared.

Zayn didn’t wait for me to finish staring. He walked straight toward a reinforced door on the far side of the room, pulled a keycard from his pocket, and unlocked it with a heavy electronic thunk. The lights inside flickered on automatically, revealing a compact arsenal that made my pulse kick up a notch.

Racks lined the walls, holding everything a man in his line of work would need. Sleek handguns in quick-access holsters. A couple of matte-black AR-15 variants with red-dot sights. Shotguns, short-barreled and brutal-looking. Even a few suppressed submachine guns and what looked like military-grade flashbangs and knives in a glass case. Boxes of ammunition sat neatly stacked by caliber.

I lingered near the doorway, taking it all in. The cool, dry air smelled of metal and lubricant. My fingers itched with old, familiar habits.

After a few minutes of letting me look, Zayn leaned against the doorframe, watching me. His voice was low and deep. “Select a gun you know you can handle easily. Something you can trust if things go sideways.”

I didn’t hesitate for long. My eyes kept drifted to two pistols that felt right. I picked up the first: a Glock 19, compact and proven, the polymer grip cool and familiar against my palm. Then the second was a dessert eagle.

“These,” I said, holding them up so he could see. “I’ve worked with them before. They won’t fail me.”

Zayn studied me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then he gave a small nod, like a pact had just been sealed between us.

For the first time since stepping into this dark little kingdom of his, I wondered exactly what I’d signed up for and how much of myself I’d have to become to survive it.

“I would have told you to put on the female bodyguard outfit but you'll have to deal with wearing gowns, you're following me everywhere as my lover so I'll expect you to dress like one.” He said.

“Why are we here?” I asked again.

“This is my personal space, I come here when I don't want disturbance from everyone. I would appreciate it if you don't ask further questions, you're going to irk me if you keep doing that.” He said curtly. He walked towards the collections and equally picked a pistol. Putting one in his inner pocket he put the other in his breast pocket.

Suddenly he turned around and pointed the gun at me. With a slight twitch of his lips, his fingers closed around the gun and he pulled the trigger.