I cross my arms, locking eyes with Zayan. I hate pulling rank like this—especially with him, considering where we come from. But I’ve had enough. He’s pushing too far.
And yet, even pulling rank doesn’t work. Zayan’s jaw tightens, the tension in his face barely masked, before his eyes flick to Vinicola, then snap back to me with that familiar fire.
“No. Not understood,” he bites out. “This is ridiculous, and you know it.”
My pulse quickens, heat rising in my chest. I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to stay upright, though every nerve in me wants to lash out. I’m just like everyone else here—quick toanger, especially when it comes to my authority or my freedom. And this moment happens to threaten both.
“Uh, Mr. Zayan, this is…” Vinicola’s timid voice cuts through the tension from somewhere behind me, quivering like a leaf in a storm. But Zayan cuts him off so fast, whatever he wanted to say dies between us.
“Quiet, Vinicola,” he growls. “You told me to be honest, and that’s exactly what I’m going to be.”
I don’t even know what he’s talking about. Being honest? What the fuck…?
But before I can even react, Fabien interjects. “Jealousy is a dangerous distraction, my friend,” he purrs.
Zayan steps closer, the air fuckingcrackling.“I am not your friend,” he hisses, his face inches from Fabien’s. “And you wouldn’t know anything about distractions. You’re the biggest fucking one I’ve ever seen.”
I can feel it—blood’s about to be spilled. It’s in the air, thick and charged, crawling under my skin. Zayan’s going to get us all killed. One wrong move, and this whole damn crew will turn on us for threatening their precious source of coin.
I take a step forward, ready to throw myself between them before this gets any worse, but—against all odds—Fabien surprises me. He steps back, lifting his eyebrows with a look that says this whole thing is beneath him. Then, he smacks his lips and gives a lazy roll of his shoulders.
“If you say so,” he quips, voice as raspy as ever, before sidestepping Zayan and strolling toward the exit, completely unbothered.
Then, just when I think I’ve seen it all, he does something even more unexpected—he glances back at Vinicola and gestures for him to follow. A simple wave of the hand, like he’s calling over a dog.
Vinicola, wide-eyed and torn, looks between Zayan and me, clearly unsure. He hesitates for a heartbeat, then rises to his feet and trails after Fabien without a word. The door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving behind a heavy silence.
And just as I’m about to turn to face Zayan, I hear another sound—a distinct, deliberate click.
That fucker locked us in.
I glance at the door, then back at Zayan, my blood thrumming with anger. The silent message is loud and clear: Sort out your shit, or stay locked inside.
“Perfect,” I mutter, storming over to the door and yanking at the handle. Of course, it doesn’t budge. I spin on my heel, my eyes locking onto Zayan. He’s just standing there, unaffected, like nothing’s happened—like he didn’t just drag us into this mess. There’s still only fury in his eyes.
“See what you’ve done?” I snap, my voice sharp enough to cut.
“At least now I can finally get you to talk to me,” Zayan says, an ugly smile tugging at his lips. “Otherwise, you’d keep running off, wouldn’t you?”
Ugh… what?
I bite back the retort burning on my tongue. The way he’s looking at me—this isn’t how we usually talk. This is something darker, and my patience for it? It’s hanging by a thread.
“What do you want, Zayan? What’s so fucking important you had to pull this shit?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe the fact that you’ve been avoiding me ever since I dropped everything for you. And now I find out you’re cozying up with our enemy?”
His words hit like a punch to the gut. I feel my muscles tighten, and the heat crawling up my neck.
I take a breath, trying to keep my voice steady, but the fury bubbling up inside me is impossible to control. “Is that whatthis is about? Your fragile ego? You think I owe you something because you made a few fucking reckless choices?”
“I put everything on the line for you, Gypsy,” he growls. “You—of all people—know what that means.”
“I didn’t ask you to do it.”
Zayan’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face—hurt, maybe? But he covers it fast with his usual bravado, stepping closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“Maybe you didn’t,” he says, his voice low, cold. “But you sure as hell didn’t stop me.”
