The guard bounced slightly in response, just enough to distract Griffin.The baby stayed quiet—still confused, but not crying.Yet.It was a fragile silence.One wrong move, one sharp sound, and all that tension could burst into a full-blown scream.
Then she felt Zayn’s strong arms circle her waist, his lips brushing the top of her head.“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, his voice steady.
Azlyn didn’t know how he could say that so confidently.All the signs pointed to chaos—violence, even.And the fact that no one would explain why only made it worse.Was this because of her?Was someone targetingher?
Zayn had lived most of his life under protection.He’d been relatively safe.But this hadn’t started untilshecame into the picture.That was no coincidence.
Still, the timing made no sense.She wasn’t working on anything controversial.Her current projects were tame.One was a fluffy interview with a couple of celebrities.The other?A documentary on a singer who’d risen out of the NYC projects.Even theNighthawkpiece seemed like a dead end.The company just moved coins—literal spare change—for stores.Her contacts in the criminal world had laughed it off.“Not worth the effort,” they’d said.
So why now?Why this sudden escalation?
She kept her hand on Griffin’s head, stroking gently, trying to keep him calm.Meanwhile, Zayn’s arms stayed locked around her, as if he could physically hold the danger at bay.
She wanted to turn and reassurehim, sensing the tension radiating off his body like heat.But what could she say?She had no idea what they were facing.Any comfort would be a lie.
The lead guard spoke quietly into his mic.Instantly, the others tensed.Every muscle coiled, every weapon raised.
“We’re exiting on the second floor,” the lead guard announced over his shoulder.“Garage level is clear, but we’re not taking chances.”
Azlyn swallowed hard.
She wanted to ask what was happening, but instinct kept her silent.The men were focused, locked in.This wasn’t the time for questions.
When the elevator doors slid open, no one moved.
Even Zayn’s arms around her went rigid.
One guard stepped out, sweeping the hallway and standing sentry to the left.Another followed, mirroring him to the right.The rest filed out with precise coordination until only Azlyn, Zayn, and the guard holding Griffin remained.
The man with Griffin gently patted the baby’s back.Griffin gurgled softly, momentarily soothed.Somehow, this massive, stone-faced man had a natural touch with babies.It eased something tight in Azlyn’s chest.
Then came the hardest part—stepping out.
“Keep your hand on my shoulder,” the guard told her, glancing back for confirmation.
She did, and Zayn fell in behind her, his palm pressing into the small of her back.It wasn’t a romantic touch—it was grounding.Reassuring.“I’m here,” it said.“I’ve got you.”
They moved quickly and quietly, flanked front and back by armed men, their weapons drawn and eyes scanning.The only sounds were the soft clicks of boots and the occasional murmured Arabic over communication devices, words she couldn’t understand.
“We’re clear,” Zayn translated finally.
She exhaled.“Good.”
When the stairwell doors opened into the parking garage and she saw the sleek black SUVs idling with their doors open, it felt like spotting a lifeboat in the storm.
“Almost there,” Zayn whispered.
Azlyn kept her grip on the guard’s shoulder, matching his pace.Zayn’s hand never left her back.
They reached the vehicle, and Azlyn started to climb into the middle seat—then heard it.
Pop!
She didn’t recognize the sound, but instinct screamed one word:gunfire.
Chaos exploded.
The guards moved instantly—shouts, motion, steel-on-concrete.Azlyn wasn’t allowed to climb.She wasthrowninto the backseat by Zayn, who dove in behind her.The guard with Griffin didn’t hesitate.He launched himself on top of all three of them, turning his body into a human shield.
