salute [h.s]

the one where zayn meets perrie

"Looks like we'll be trapped for a while..."

Zayn knew the moment he stepped into his flat that something wasn't right. He'd always had really good instincts — it was what made him good at his job. He could read people and situations very well and he trusted his senses. So when he stepped into his flat and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, he was immediately alert.

He tucked his keys back into his pocket instead of putting them in the bowl by the door like he usually did. He had a Glock in the front hall drawer and he drew that out right away, clicking off the safety. Shutting the door as quietly as he could, he slid the deadbolt in place so that he was trapped in his flat with whoever was waiting for him. He knew all the secret exits — his assailant didn't.

One thing Zayn had always been especially good at was keeping silent. He didn't make a sound as he crept down the hall, stopping beside the door to the kitchen and then spinning into the doorway with his gun raised. The room was clear and he moved further along toward the sitting room at the end of the hall.

He repeated the pattern but this time, when he stepped into the doorway, he immediately noticed the shadowy figure sitting on the couch despite the room being dark.

"Give me a reason I shouldn't shoot you," he muttered warningly, keeping his voice flat and even.

The light beside the couch clicked on, flooding the room with dim light. When he got a good look at who was sitting there, he chuckled under his breath and kept the gun steady.

"Was that supposed to stop me from shooting?"

"I can explain," she said as she nodded toward the chair to her left.

"You're a member of a mercenary group on Interpol's most wanted list," Zayn countered smoothly, trying his best to keep his voice even. He wasn't nervous or frightened — he'd stopped being frightened of anything a long time ago — but he was quite confused and didn't know what was going on and that was a feeling he didn't like. "What's left to explain?" he asked her.

"I'm not who I seem."

"You're not Perrie Edwards?"

She let out a sigh, her shoulders sinking forward. "I am, but there's more to the story, I promise."

He watched her carefully for a moment, trying to get a read on her. Her hands were resting carefully on her knees — he was sure it was her way of showing she didn't have quick access to a weapon. He was confident there was a weapon on her somewhere but she wasn't pulling it. She was letting herself be vulnerable in front of him. It was what kept him from shooting out her knee, just in case.

She was staring right back at him as he appraised her, her vibrant blue eyes locked on his. Eye contact was one of the best ways to tell whether someone was lying or not — liars couldn't keep straight contact — but training could teach someone to get around that. But there was something about Perrie's eyes that seemed very genuine and Zayn decided to give her a chance.

"Alright then," he said though he refused to lower the gun, "explain."

"I'm part of a black ops group, similar to One Direction."

"How did you know about that?" Zayn interrupted sternly, his voice dropping to a lethal hiss. Perrie raised her hands defensively.

"I was briefed on you and your partners because we were supposed to be introduced to you later in the week. Like I said, we're part of a black ops group posing as a mercenary group and we're supposed to be doing a joint mission later in the month to get the leader of the Mizerak Cartel."

Zayn remembered El mentioning something about the Mizerak Cartel when he'd dropped by HQ earlier in the week but he still wasn't convinced.

"If you're black ops, you worked for an organization before. What was it?"