Chapter 6 Good Decision
Alina’s POV
Two figures loomed over Zain’s unconscious body, kneeling to check his pulse before a low, muffled murmur passed between them. My blood ran ice-cold.
Before I could even draw breath, one of them drew a sleek pistol, pressed the barrel right against Zain’s temple, and pulled the trigger. Oh, my fucking Satan.
What kind of underworld syndicate did Zain get mixed up with? Who the hell had he crossed? I watched, as the men retreated. A heavy door slammed, followed immediately by the screech of rubber and roaring engines tearing away from the compound.
I crept forward, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear. When I saw no one, I rushed to grab my clothes—only to find the innocent fabric completely torn to shreds by Zain’s frantic hands. I scooped up the pieces anyway; I wasn't about to leave my DNA or my clothes sitting right in the middle of a fresh murder scene.
Desperate and naked, I bolted into his bedroom, grabbed a pair of his oversized sweatpants, and yanked them on. Right at that exact second, the wail of sirens cut through the night air. Jesus Christ. Who called them? Did Zain trigger a silent alarm when he rushed to the kitchen?
I sprinted down the stairs toward the living room, but a heavy, violent fist hammered against the front door. Fucking shit! My brain stalled completely, refusing to give me a single coherent thought until my gaze snapped toward the kitchen.
Yes. Fuck yes. I dashed across the tiles, threw open the back door, and slipped out, checking every corner before sprinting into the alleyways. After running for what felt like miles, I risked a glance back. Zain’s house sat in the distance, already illuminated by the flashing red and blue lights of two police vans parked outside.
Panic clawed at my throat. I had almost been caught trapped alone with a bullet-riddled corpse. What would the cops have said if they found me there? They would have pinned the murder on me and thrown me straight into a maximum-security cell to rot. Fucking imbeciles!
I stared down at the torn fabric in my hand, marching over to a massive dumpster and tossing the my torn cloth deep inside. With my heart hammering against my ribs.
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. How the hell did I let that blonde get inside my head so badly? Just because I wanted to prove to myself and everyone else I was straight, I had walked right into a literal slaughterhouse.
Cursing out loud at my own stupidity, I marched out to the main road, flagged down a passing cab, threw myself into the back seat, and rattled off my home address.
What a completely fucked-up life I was living. Tell me why the hell I always had to go hook up with guys right before they ended up dead. Sure, I hadn't known, but I’d always heard stories about people getting a gut feeling, a warning telling them to stay away from a place.
Me? I never felt that shit. I never got a single warning bell in my head. Every instinct I had only ever egged me on, whispering encouragement to chase the thrill. I swear, even my own brain secretly hated me.
I let out a sharp hiss when the cab abruptly jerked to a halt. I looked up, ready to tear into the driver for his terrible driving, only to realize he had pulled up right outside my apartment building.
I scrambled out, shoved some cash from my wallet into his hand, and jogged up to the front door. I knocked twice. The door swung open, revealing Blair’s familiar face.
I ignored the sharp arch of her brow, brushing past her into the living room and sweeping my eyes across the space. Good. No blonde in sight. I collapsed onto the sofa, exhaling the heaviest, most agonizing breath of my miserable existence.
“Where are your shoes? Where’s your car? Where are your actual clothes?” Blair fired off questions back-to-back, her voice laced with confusion.
My overworked brain tried to process her questions one by one, but then my fucked up brain ain’t giving me answers.
I glanced up, catching Blair staring at me like I had suddenly sprouted two heads. A dry, humorless chuckle slipped past my lips at how completely oblivious she looked.
“I went over to Zain’s,” I muttered, pushing myself up and heading toward the kitchen. Heavy footsteps immediately trailed behind me.
“How many fucking times do I have to tell you to stay the hell away from that asshole?” she snapped, suddenly catching my arm and violently spinning me around to face her.
She had always despised the guy—we had dated briefly a while back, but it had crashed and burned, so we called it quits. I never really understood her deep-seated hatred for him, but whatever.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. We won't be seeing him ever again,” I shrugged nonchalantly, reaching for the refrigerator handle.
“He’s dead.” Blair froze entirely. Her eyes shot up, widening in absolute shock. “Wait what? You didn't-”
“Now why the absolute fuck would you jump straight to thinking I killed him?” I cut her off with a sharp hiss, throwing a blistering glare her way.
Before she could answer, I heard movement down the hall. I paused, raising a single brow as I stared past Blair’s shoulder. And right on cue, the blonde stepped out from the hallway, her eyes widening slightly as they locked onto mine.
“Good decision prioritizing a stray over me,” I muttered coldly to Blair, stepping past her and heading straight for my bedroom.
She was really going to trade me for the blonde? Blair knew me better than anyone; she knew I never made empty threats. When I said I would walk out if I found the blonde still lingering in our space, I meant every single word.
Entering my room, I grabbed a duffel bag from the closet, aggressively tossing in a handful of clothes and daily necessities before turning back toward the door.
“Lina, come on, she begged me! She literally has nowhere else to go!” Blair’s voice echoed as I walked back out into the hall, coming face-to-face with both of them.
“And since when did this apartment turn into a fucking charity home, huh?!” I yelled, raw anger boiling over in my chest. It wasn't even entirely about the blonde anymore—it was about Blair.
She knew me too well to think I was just bluffing. She knew walking out was a certainty if I caught the girl still here, and yet she had deliberately chosen to keep her anyway. She chose a random stranger over me.
Very well. If that's how she wanted to play it, she wouldn't have to worry about putting up with a fucked-up mess like me ever again.
“Lina, please just listen—” I marched right past them before she could finish, my fingers gripping the handle of my duffel bag as I hurried down the stairs.
