Secrets (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 72

Zayns POV

"No!" I jump at the movement of Eric's finger against the trigger, and thank God that Jamie comes up in time to pull her chair to the floor.

The only con would be that it knocked her unconscious, but I can deal with that later. I can't deal with her having a bullet in her forehead.

"Jamie, now!" I shout at him, and take cover behind a row of boxes, as automatic guns go off at his command of a remote control. Bullets chip at the box I'm behind, and I back away even further behind them.

"You think this would save you Zayn? Honestly, I thought you were smarter than that." I hear Michael taunting me, and his voice only gets louder the longer I stay here.

I crawl on the floor, and find a dark space in the corner of the warehouse, and nervously wait to see his face pass by. My breath hitches as he walks right past me, slowly examining his surroundings and making sure he's not taken by surprise.

I carefully extract my gun from my back pocket, and lock a bullet into place. He whips his head around, but doesn't see my hiding in the shadows with the weapon pointed directly at him.

When he steps out into the open area, full of people running around searching for either Jamie and I, or the guns repeatedly killing plenty, I step out behind him and speak up.

"This ends now Michael." I spit, and press the gun between his shoulder blades. "I won't let you keep doing this to her."

He turns to me, and averts his eyes to the gun pointed at his chest. A wicked smile creeps on his face, and his gray eyes are wild and vicious.

"What am I doing to her exactly? You just traumatized her by taking everything she knew, and making her believe it was a lie. Which I'll be honest, you're a shitty actor. Even I knew how much bullshit that was." He cackles slightly, and reached for the gun but I quickly press my finger against the trigger.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."

He throws his hands up in surrender, and backs away a bit.

"Because you're not a killer Zayn. I am, but you're not. You'd never be able to live with the thought of blood on your hands."

I nod and contemplate and his words, but I'm not blind to the fact that he keeps inching closer to me. "And that's a huge difference between us. Because I can live with your literal blood on my hands now."

His fist connects with my cheek, striking the bruise that was already there and not healing well at all. I feel his arms wrap around my neck, and as I go to bite his skin in defense, he shoves his hand in my mouth.

"Lovely ring, doesn't look very important." With force, he rips the ring from my lip, tearing the skin apart.

"Fuck!" I scream in pain, and elbow him with all my strength in his crotch.

He collapses to the floor, and holds between his legs as he rocks back and forth.

"Did Ella teach you that? Fight like a man Malik!" He groans in pain, and I strike his face with my boot.

The pain I'm causing him feels so damn good, and I need to do more damage.

"No, I taught her how to fight like a man actually. Something you'll never be." I kneel down, and bring my arm back with my hand, into a fist.

"This is for her." I whisper, and punch him in the face so hard that my knuckles automatically feel sore and bruised.

"This is for your wife." I punch him again, this time breaking skin on my knuckles and also on his lips. Blood starts to trickle down the side of his face, and spreads out across the skin of my hand.