THE RUIN HE CHOSE

THE REFLEX TEST

AURELIA.

I ducked and positioned the Glock 19 before me, pointing it towards him, wondering if he had already discovered I was here on another mission and was planning on eliminating me right there before registering the click the gun made.

It had no bullets in it?

I looked at him confused as I stood up, still pointing the gun at him.

He shrugged as if trying to show he was impressed and unimpressed at the same time.

“What the f**k was that?” I yelled.

“Wanted to confirm if you had quick reflexes. It's quite impressive,” he said, taking off his watch.

“Get changed, we have somewhere to be,” he said and walked away leaving me standing there with the pistol in my hand. I didn't know how I was supposed to find my way but I did. I wandered around until I found a door. I pushed it open and walked in. The room was basically empty. Just a wardrobe, a bed and a mirror. I walked briskly towards the wardrobe and pried the door open.

Different outfits were stacked in there, and underneath were a few shoes.I shuffled through until I finally reached an outfit that caught my interest. My makeup was still on so I didn't bother with that, not like I could make makeup anyways.

I changed out of the uncomfortable gown, put on the white pants suit I brought out and I wore it and slid out a pair of loafers, put it on and walked to the mirror. My cleavage was still visible, the vine tattoo curling out from above. I picked up the brush on the table and scraped my hair into a neat bun before taking one last look at the mirror, satisfied with the look. I walked towards the bed, picked up the guns and slipped it into the inner pockets.

I felt comfortable as I felt the bulge in my pocket. I walked out of the room and met Zayn sitting on the couch, a cigarette between his fingers. He looked at me, his gaze lingering on my cleavage again before he finally took in my full outfit.

Pervert.

He stubbed out the cigarette on the ashtray beside him and stood up. He was still in his tuxedo. He walked towards the table and picked up the wristwatch he dropped.

“You're wearing white, whatever we're going to do is going to involve a lot of combating, don't think that's a right choice.”

“You offered a wardrobe filled with dresses. I had to pick the one that looked more comfortable,” I replied curtly, my hands in front of me. He didn't reply anymore and headed towards the elevator. I followed him out and headed towards the car parked downstairs just to notice the driver wasn't in there.

“Who's driving?” I asked. Zayn didn't reply as expected. I sighed and got into the driver's seat. Starting the engine, I watched the gates pull up before I drove out.

“Mind telling me where I'll be driving to?” I asked with a grunt. He passed me his tablet and showed me the location, I placed it on the car’s gps and started driving.

“Send reinforcements, I'll be going inside with Z12.” He said into his phone. I looked at the review mirror and realized he was on a call.

“Who's Z12?” I asked.

Silence.

I sighed and continued driving. 20 minutes later, we arrived at the location. It was a massive hall.The grand driveway curved like a black ribbon under strings of golden lights, where a procession of sleek supercars and gleaming limousines purred forward and peeled away in constant motion. Valets in crisp uniforms darted between them, doors opening with soft thuds as waves of the city’s elite spilled out. Women dripped in diamonds and emeralds that caught every flicker of light, their laughter bright and practiced. Men in tailored tuxedos and watches worth small fortunes clapped shoulders and exchanged knowing smirks as they climbed the wide marble steps. Expensive fabrics whispered against skin, heels clicked, and the scent of rare perfumes mingled with night air and engine heat. I wrinkled my nose, finding all of these extremely unnecessary.

At the entrance, two broad-shouldered bouncers in black stood like statues, earpieces barely visible, eyes scanning every face with professional boredom. No one lingered. Everyone simply flowed past them into the warmth and noise beyond.

Inside, the ballroom was enormous, crystal chandeliers the size of small boats hung from a ceiling painted with frescoes of clouds and cherubs. Marble floors stretched out beneath hundreds of feet, reflecting the golden glow like still water. The air buzzed with overlapping chatter and sudden bursts of laughter that rose and fell in waves. A small orchestra on a raised platform played classical pieces, something elegant by Strauss or Chopin.

It was the kind of music that should have felt soothing instead, the notes coiled tight in my chest.

Zayn’s fingers brushed my ear as he slipped the earpiece into place. He looked down tenderly at me. Anyone looking would think he was romantically admiring my face but we both knew better.

It was sleek, almost invisible, matte black and flesh-toned at the edges. Unless someone stepped close enough to study me, it looked like nothing more than a shadow or a stray hair. I adjusted it with a subtle tilt of my head, the motion natural, like I was simply tucking a strand behind my ear.

“Once you see anything off,” he murmured, voice low and steady against the noise, “don’t hesitate to alert me.” he tilted my chin as he spoke quietly. My eyes clashed with his dark stormy eyes and I found myself staring, lost in the beauty and danger of his eyes. I could hear someone coo adorably nearby. I controlled the urge to not cringe as I broke our eye contact.

I gave the smallest nod. His arm slid around mine, warm and protectively m, the fabric of his tuxedo sleeve brushing my skin. Together we moved deeper into the crowd, stepping easily into the rhythm of the party. A round woman in a shimmering gown two sizes too small turned toward us, her cheeks flushed with champagne and her necklace straining against her neckline. The dress glittered aggressively with every breath she took.

“Zayn, darling!” she exclaimed, arms already opening wide. Her laugh was loud, infectious, and just a touch too sharp.

He guided me forward with gentle pressure, his expression not softening once.I kept my own face calm, scanning the glittering sea of people around us while the classical strings continued their uneasy dance in the background.

Zayn refused to go into the woman's open arms, staying glued to my side as he regarded her with careful eyes.

“Ms. Taylor, it's so wonderful to see you today,” he deadpanned on her. The woman chuckled awkwardly to cover her nervousness as dropped her arms.

With that tone of his, nothing was definitely wonderful.

Her smile faltered a little when they landed on me.

“Meet my fiancee, Celez.” He said curtly. The woman's head whipped around fast. I feared she might cut her skin against the edge of her jewelry which seemed to choke her. A waiter passed by and I made to collect a glass of wine from his tray when I noticed the kind of ‘off’ that might interest Zayn.