Chapter 92: "Scripted in Blood"

Caution: This is going to be tough to read so brace yourself mentally.

Also Trigger warning for a few graphic descriptions.

Post your reactions as your read.

Salma cradled her painful stomach in one of her arms. Eyes closed, tears streaming down her face, jaws clenched and teeth gritted in anguish, she could barely feel her nails clawing at the wall she was leaning against, as the muscles in her abdomen continued to sear. Her head was spinning, and body drenched in cold sweats.

Feeling movement behind her, Salma opened her eyes and pushed against the wall, doing her best to suppress the pain. With what had just happened, a painful bruise from a kick to the gut was not the kind of problem to bring to attention or worry about. People had literally been burned and ripped apart by an explosion. People she knew and loved. People she had seen alive and smiling mere seconds ago.

A strangled sob escaped her lips as the tears continued to stream down her face. Put on autopilot by the shock and terror, Zayn and Salma had raced towards the burning car after the bomb detonated. Literally the first to approach the fire, the horrors of blood and burnt flesh that they saw past the flames, made them both lose whatever was left of their sanity. Salma did not have much of a recollection of what they did in their madness, but the disconnected images in her mind were of hapless screaming and crying, of jumping towards the scorched vehicle on impulse, of Zayn blistering his hands when he grabbed the door, of him taking off his jacket and once again trying to open the door, before he resorted to kicking it, of Salma running around the car to professor R.K's side and –

Salma whimpered as she turned her face, trying to shake away the image her professor's disfigured body, covered in blood and soot. She had just a vague recollection of a security staff pulling her away from the burning car. The world was spinning like a top. She could not tell the left from right and the heavens from the earth. A full-blown panic attack had taken over. She kept seeing blood, blackened bodies and flames. Her world was on fire. Somehow, in the burning chaos she perceived a glimpse of someone restraining Zayn who seemed to be completely beside himself. As Salma's crumple to the floor and the world around her swayed at a lesser speed, she saw Zayn's helplessness and loss overpowering his struggle, and he crashed on his knees, crying and broken. The scorched car and Zayn were soon blocked from her tear-filled vision by the rushing paramedics and fire-fighters.

Salma leaned her back against the wall, but unable to hold her weight, she slowly sank to the floor. Her stomach stabbed painfully. The nurses were running in and out of the OR. Salma wished she could summon the courage to stop one of them and ask about Professor R.K, but her heart was still bleeding unable to accept the tragedy. The dread kept her from inquiring. Louisa's body had been wheeled out just an hour ago, and Salma refused to believe the person under the white wrap was that of an adorable junior. Salma could still see her smiling face and the evil twinkle in her eye as she waved and bowed before them. There was no way the gentle, mischievous soul was no more. It was impossible.

It had to be a joke. It had to be a sick, cruel prank. Louisa could not pass away.

A broken gasp left her lips. A fresh set of tears continued pouring down her face, disappearing behind her veil, staining the cloth wet. Louisa's smiling face kept flashing before her eyes, marred by images of her broken body covered in soot and blood. Salma felt the lump in her throat choking her.

How could she not make it? How could she die?!

Salma rested her head in her hand, weeping. She mourned the loss of a sweet friend as she continued praying and pleading for her father's health, all the time, hoping none of this was true, that it was a nightmare, a terrifying illusion that would soon end. But it did not, and Salma was left wondering what was worse, for her professor to lose the battle for his life, or to live to hear of his daughter's demise?

Footsteps hurried in her direction and then she felt a pair of very strong arms wrap around her, enveloping her in a secure embrace. Stuck between leaning into the warmth and comfort of the hug and getting startled by the sudden presence, Salma looked up to see Agent Tufan crouching next to her; his face pale, eyes dull, hard lines etched into a frown and looking like he had lost a couple of years in the past hour.

"Burak Kaka," Salma whispered past her clogged throat, breaking down completely.

He pulled her closer, rubbing her back as she started crying into his dark coat.

"I'm sorry bachey," he muttered. "I'm so sorry about your friend."

"She was just a k-kid," Salma whispered between sobs. "She didn't deserve it! Why would anyone want to h-hurt her? What did she ever d-do?!"

The Green Coat did not reply. He had no answers, just a silent presence and a supporting embrace. He let her cry her pain out, mourning her loss and trying to hold her broken pieces together. She leaned against his sturdy and stable weight, but even as his coat stained by his pouring tears, there was no easing such pain or healing the kind of wounds that her heart had suffered with loss of her friend. Salma pulled away after a while, unable to stop crying.

"Have you seen Zayn?" she asked, sniffing. She had had a brief realization earlier that she had lost him in the chaos that ensued after the explosion, but then with Professor R.K being rushed to the OR, she hurried after him and had not seen Zayn since.

Salma blinked when Burak Kaka's face full of concern and worry blurred from her vision.

"He's with the young lady," the Green Coat replied soberly. "Miss Anderson and Mr. Flintoff are with him."

Salma nodded, swallowing some of her anxiety and guilt.

"I can't bear to see her like this," Salma whispered as her voice cracked again. A fresh set of tears continued wetting her cheeks. Salma rested her face on her knees, unable to contain the ache in her heart, but not able to ball up to ease some of the pain there because of the agonizing bruise on her stomach.

She felt a strong but gentle hand rest on her back.

"It's okay," Burak Kaka reassured. "You don't have to. No one can."

***

Zayn continued to march past the doors and corridors. His hand gripped the metal rod in a vice-like grip. Eyes raw from crying, pale face painted by blood, soot and tears, heart searing with loss of his baby sister, he smashed another one of the sliding glass doors to bits as he carried on. He had a murder on his mind.

Another swing, and the fancy barricades were sent crashing and exploding out of his way. He barely noticed the people in the hallway scream and jump towards safety. The staff behind the front desk startled, but other than jumping to their feet, eyeing him fearfully, they did nothing. No one stopped him. No one dared. Once he had punched his way past the security at the front door and the elevators, he was allowed to continued unchallenged. Zayn knew they could see him smash his way through, and if they thought they could survive him this time, they had another thought coming very soon. His clothes and hands were still covered in blood, smoke and dirt from helping Louisa's charred body out of the car, and the beast within was braying for their blood, demanding revenge for the innocent life that was snatched away in cold-blood.

All this cruelty to pass on a message to him, to teach him a lesson. A lesson learned, indeed.

The space around him echoed with a series of bangs and explosion as Zayn kicked his way into grand office. The tall glass and metal door came unhinged, knocking towards him after a rebound. Zayn swung the rode, striking out the glass as the metal frame swung away from him one more. The inhabitants of the room turned to him as glass shards rained on polish floor in front of them, knocking against the opposite wall and falling back with gentle clinks. The younger blond pig, Derek, pulled away from the desk, where he was leaning over his father, Osborn Hilton, watching the screen in front of them. Zayn figured they were following his march in as he left a trail of destruction behind.

Osborn's fixed him with his demonic, dark eyes, a cold smile playing at the corner of his lips, taking in Zayn's distraught appearance.

"Can't say it's a pleasure –"

Osborn's snide comment was cut short by the rod that was sent flying towards his swine of a sperm. Derek dodged a hit to the head but was struck on the shoulder, the impact knocking him off his feet and into the flat screen on the wall behind them. Another series of crash echoed and before the commotion could end, Zayn had already pounced on the wrinkled waste of space. He grabbed him by the collar of his expensive suit and shoved him roughly.

"Tell that dog to stop killing the people I love!" Zayn screamed, the madness and pain in his voice ricocheted across the entire hall outside the office.

"Or else?"

Zayn froze. His fingers became stiff around the crumpled fabric of Osborn's suit. That cold and controlled voice, soft and menacing, devoid of life and dark like death, he knew it. He recognized it and hated it. The murderer had spoken, and Zayn did not know if he had it in him to endure the presence of the soulless, demonic creature that had senselessly killed Louisa in cold-blood. Zayn let go of Osborn's collar and pushed away from him. The older Hilton scoffed, straightening his jacket, while his younger swine struggled to get to his feet.

Zayn stepped away from the irrelevant scum and turned around to see the snake sprawled on the sofa, gun at the ready. Without further ado, the inhuman brute raised his gun, aiming it in Zayn's direction. An ear-splitting explosion rang around the little room and Zayn barely glimpsed the flash of the round being fired. His soul stuck in his throat, frozen by shock as he watched the slim spiral of smoke emanating from the barrel of the gun but could not really comprehend it. It was only when he heard terrible gurgling sounds just behind him, that Zayn snapped back to reality. He looked over his shoulder. Where once sat a smug old wrinkle, now lie Osborn Hilton slumped at an odd angle in his seat, slowly sliding towards the floor.

Stunned by the attack, Zayn watched as Osborn writhed in pain, clutching his chest, the dark crimson stain spreading on his white cotton shirt and sky-blue tie under the suit at an alarming speed. Derek just watched his father ashen-faced. His bulging eyes and lack of movement a sign of him having no idea what to do. Osborn crumpled to the ground while Toryal's gun kept the two rooted to the spot.

Zayn whipped around, staring at Toryal, absolutely, shell-shocked. He shot Osborn Hilton?

"Do you want murder charges on your record?" the beast asked calmly, as if he had not just fatally shot a man, who was now bleeding to his death with mere minutes to spare. "There's enough footage of your rampage through the building. And planting your prints on this gun will not be an issue."

Toryal held up the gun, letting it dangle from his index finger. Zayn realized for the first time that he was wearing dark leather gloves. He said nothing. The spy cocked his head, his ice-cold, grey eyes piercing through Zayn who felt like he was swimming in a haze. The spy heaved a deep breath and put the gun on his lap.

"I promised to keep your loved ones safe if you did not impede or hinder the smooth flow of my plans with the Zamarud Zai," the spy said, keeping his tone soft and conversational. "You keep making the wrong choice."

The blood was pooling around Hilton. A tongue of dark red was lapping towards Zayn's shoes. The sight of the growing deep crimson puddle started triggering terrible flashbacks for him.

"You said, she was family," Toryal drawled lazily. "At what cost, I ask?"

Realizing it was an admission to the bone chilling crimes, Zayn suddenly exploded.

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

Zayn advanced toward him, fully intending on squeezing the life out of the snake, but he halted.

A broken gasp escaped his lips. The spy had simply pointed the gun at another target. Zayn blinked to clear his vision. Dark brown hair, pale face beaten black and blue, gagged and unconscious; crouched into the corner, in the small space between the wall and the his chaise, was Alex.

Toryal cocked his brow.

"That'll be a head-shot. Point blank range. Boom!" Toryal said, his tone still light and casual as he knocked the barrel of the gun against Alex's head. "Her grey matter paints the wall. Bye, bye, Agent Wickfield. No coming back from there."

Zayn gasped for breath. He felt suffocated. Like a vice-like grip was squeezing his throat and lungs under a crushing force. Alex had been missing because she was kidnapped? Held captive? By him?

"And I got that former flame of yours too. Her sister." Toryal jerked his head Alex-wards. "Bet you don't want that nutter on your case?"

Zayn could not look away from Alex's bruised and swollen face. Blood was oozing out of her nose and mouth. Unable to breath, he closed his eyes and forced his stiff legs to take a step back.

"You seem to be reconsidering," the spy continued softly. "Good. Good . . ."

Zayn struggled to break out of his trance. He had started to sweat. His head was spinning too fast for him to function normally. He had a bit of an idea that the spy had motioned to Derek who had sprung in action to get help, but there was little that made sense to him anymore. His ears were whistling. A blackout was due, and yet –

He fought against the overwhelming wave of nausea. He resisted the dampening of his consciousness. He had to fight. His senses were tuning in and out of function. He struggled to stay alert, hear and see.

"You'll find me very cooperative should you so much as hint to fulfilling the promises made," Toryal was saying as he motioned to the security that had just entered after Derek to hurry Osborn out. Derek stayed back but Toryal dismissed his presence with another degrading gesture of his hands. The swine obeyed like a well-disciplined dog.

Zayn witnessed the spy's raw power and cruelty in his periphery. His eyes were glued to the blood pool at the foot of Osborn's chair. A message in red; a small glimpse of the ruthlessness of the man sprawled like a snake on the sofa, running everything with the trigger of his gun.

"I will need you to speak up," the spy demanded. "As a busy man, I'm certain you can't fit too many funerals on your clock. One of them is already due. You don't want to miss it."

Zayn turned to him, his fists clenching and heart bursting with the desire to squeeze the life out of the cruel, blood-thirsty creature, who was burning and shooting people just to get a point across. A point of what he was capable of, should Zayn delay to do as he said for another instant.

"Just to let you know, it was never personal with the girl," he said. "She would have lived had you come here sooner."

Zayn could no longer hide his trembling hands that were clenched tight to control his made fury.

It is personal! Zayn vowed in his head as his wrath manifested as unshed tears filling his eyes once more. I'll make you wish she would have lived and I would have come here sooner!

"It's time," Toryal said. "Do we have an accord, Zayn Harris . . . Saib?" he added as an after-thought.

Zayn felt his nails digging into the palm of his hands, drawing blood. A tear escaped the barrier as he forced open his jaws to utter the word that would kill him.

Author's Note:

I'm sorry! 😭😭😭

RIP Louisa. You sweet, sweet soul. You'll be missed 🥺💔

Between Lena, Lenny, Louisa and Claire, Louisa ended up being the character that had to die. I'm still upset. She had a nice arc going. She was supposed to become an olympic gold medalist and also rally Claire and Lenny around to bring Derek down. It was going to be a really public downfall for Derek. By the end of the journey, she was supposed to meet Jason again, but unfortunately, her plotlines were cut short. I can't believe the sweetest of them all had to go first. It's heartbreaking.

My sincerest condolences and apologies.

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Lots of Love.

J.