Chapter 278: Will Morning Reveal the Truth?

"Emma, it’s two in the morning—"

"I don’t care!" Her voice grew louder, full of desperation. "Zayn, please. I need to go home. I have to see my dad. Please take me. Please."

She was crying harder now, holding onto his shirt and shaking.

Zayn had never seen her like this, panicked, scared, totally convinced something was wrong.

He made up his mind.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. But first, let me make a quick call. Just to check if everything’s alright. Do you think you can do that?"

Emma paused, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, call him. Call my dad."

"I’ll call someone who can check on him," Zayn said carefully. "Just hang tight here, okay?"

He got up, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and headed to the balcony.

He slid the glass door open and stepped outside, closing it behind him so Emma wouldn’t hear.

The ocean breeze felt cool, salty, and fresh.

Zayn took a deep breath.

Then he made the call.

Zayden picked up on the first ring.

"Yes, Zayn?"

His voice was tense and strained.

That wasn’t good.

"Everything cool over there?" Zayn asked.

"Why?" Zayden’s tone got sharper. "Why do you want to know?"

Zayn glanced through the glass and saw Emma on the bed, hugging her knees and crying.

"Emma just had a bad dream," Zayn said quietly. "About Alexander. She saw him hurt and dying. She’s sure something’s up. She wants to come back right now."

Silence.

Long. Heavy.

Zayn’s heart sank.

"Zayden, you have to tell me everything’s okay."

More silence.

Then, "Shit."

Zayn closed his eyes. "What’s going on?"

"Alexander got shot."

The world flipped.

"What?"

"Twice. In the chest and the knee. Stray bullets during the shootout. He’s hanging on, but barely. Kade is rushing him to the hospital."

Zayn gripped the balcony railing. "How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad. Punctured lung, a lot of blood loss. I can’t say if he’ll pull through."

"Jesus."

"I know."

Zayn ran his hand through his hair. "She knew. Emma felt it."

"That can’t be true."

"Is it?" Zayn said quietly. "She woke up scared, feeling like something was wrong. She talked about seeing him drowning in blood. Zayden, she realized."

Zayden paused for a second. Then he asked, "What do you want to do?"

"She wants to come back. She wants to see him."

"No way. Absolutely not."

"Zayden—"

"Listen up. The auction hall is a crime scene. The FBI is on the way, and the police are everywhere. The media is all over it. It’s complete chaos. If you bring Emma back here, she’ll walk into a nightmare. She’ll see her dad’s name all over the news. She’ll learn about the trafficking ring getting exposed. She’ll find out everything."

Zayn hadn’t thought about that.

"She doesn’t know," he said slowly. "About any of it."

"Exactly. And we need to keep it that way. For now.

"But what if Alexander dies—"

"He’s not going to die," Zayden said—more like he was convincing himself than Zayn. "Kade will get him to the hospital. They will save him. He’ll pull through."

"You can’t know that for sure."

"I’m choosing to believe it," Zayden replied. "Because the other option is just not okay."

Zayn looked through the glass again. Emma was still crying, still hugging herself.

"What do I tell her?" Zayn asked.

"Nothing. Not yet. Just say you made some calls. Say, Alexander is fine. Tell her she had a bad dream and needs to rest."

"She won’t buy it."

"Just make her believe you. You’re good at that."

Zayn clenched his jaw. "This feels wrong."

"I know. But it’s necessary. Keep her there. Keep her safe. Let me deal with things here. In the morning, I’ll have more info. I’ll know if Alexander is stable. Then we can figure out what to tell her. Okay?"

Zayn didn’t like it.

But Zayden was right.

Bringing Emma back right now would be a complete disaster.

"Okay," Zayn said. "But if anything changes, if he gets worse, you’ve gotta let me know ASAP."

"I will. I promise."

"And Zayden?"

"Yeah?"

"How you holding up? You sound—"

"I’m fine," Zayden interrupted. "Just really worn out. It’s been a long night."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Definitely. Just focus on Emma. I’ll handle things here."

Zayn wanted to dig deeper. He wanted to ask more, but it wasn’t the right time.

"Alright. Just keep me updated."

"I will. Stay safe, man."

"You too."

Zayn ended the call and stood on the balcony for a moment, trying to process everything.

Alexander got shot. He might be dying. Emma somehow figured it out. And Zayn had to lie to her.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and headed back inside.

*****

Emma looked up as he came in. "What did they say?"

Zayn sat down next to her and held her hands. "I called my brother. He knows some people who can check on your dad. They said he’s fine and safe at home. He’s probably just sleeping."

Emma searched his face. "Are you sure?"

"I’m sure."

She wanted to believe him; he could tell. But doubt still showed in her eyes.

"Then why—" She pressed her hand to her chest again. "Why does it still hurt?"

"Because you love him," Zayn said softly. "And you’re worried. That’s totally normal. But he’s okay, I promise."

Tears filled Emma’s eyes again. "I want to go back. I want to see him."

"I know. But we can’t. Not right now."

"Why not?"

Zayn chose his words slowly. "Because it’s the middle of the night. The guards are tired and asleep. I even gave them time off, and the earliest flight we can take is at six AM. Even if we left now, we wouldn’t get back until late morning. By then, you’d be freaking out for no reason."

He lifted her chin to make her look at him.

"Your dad is fine," he said firmly. "But if you really want to go back in the morning, we can. Okay? We’ll catch the first flight so you can see him yourself. But for now, you need to sleep. You need to take care of yourself."

Emma bit her lip, feeling torn.

Slowly, she nodded. "Okay. We’ll go in the morning."

"We’ll go in the morning," Zayn confirmed.

Emma reached up, placing both hands on his face and pulling him close.

"My chest hurts," she whispered. "My mind and my heart are both saying something’s wrong. That he’s not okay. I can feel it, Zayn. I can feel it deep down."

Zayn covered her hands with his and kissed her palm.

"I get how you feel," he said softly. "And I believe you. But we can’t go at this hour. The flights aren’t running. We have to wait until morning. Can you hang in there? Can you wait?"

She looked into his eyes, searching and desperate.

At last, she said, "Promise me. Promise we’ll go in the morning."

"I promise," Zayn replied right away.

Emma let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

Zayn leaned in and held her face in his hands. He kissed her, slow, deep, and comforting, trying to share all his confidence with her, hoping to make her feel that everything would be fine, even though he wasn’t really sure if it was.

When he pulled back, he gently helped her down onto the bed. She went along with it, exhausted and emotionally drained. Zayn lay down next to her and pulled her close.

She rested her head on his arm and snuggled into his chest. He wrapped his other arm around her and held her tight.

"Get some sleep," he said softly, kissing the top of her head. "I’ve got you. You’re safe. Everything’s going to be alright."

His fingers moved through her hair, stroking it slowly and gently, the way he knew would soothe her.

Emma closed her eyes, and her breathing began to slow down, becoming more even. She clung to him like he was her lifeline, and maybe he was.

Zayn kept stroking her hair, holding her gently as he stared at the ceiling. His mind was busy with thoughts of Alexander in an ambulance, Zayden at the auction hall, and all the chaos likely happening right then.

He also thought about the next morning when Emma would be looking for answers, and he’d have to share something important with her. The worry of everything possibly falling apart hung over him.

He kissed her head again and whispered, "I’m sorry." She didn’t catch it; she was already asleep. Zayn closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come.

He lay there wide awake, holding the woman he loved while her dad fought for his life two thousand miles away, just waiting, waiting for morning, for news, for whatever would come next.

But what if morning changes everything?