I, Spy [Zayn]

Chapter Two

MILA INSTINCTIVELY JUMPED away from the spy, her eyes wide and glued to the small pistol in his left hand. She had never seen a gun at such close proximity before, and it had rendered her momentarily speechless. A gun, she thought to herself in alarm. A bloody gun!

She opened her mouth to scream - her first instinct upon seeing the weapon - but nothing managed to escape from her lips. A hand was instantly clapped across her face, silencing her before she could even begin. With her eyes still locked on the weapon in his other hand, a thought crossed her mind: was it the man before her who had fired the gun earlier?

She tried to yell out as he took a final step towards her, pressing her body up against the opposite wall of the compartment. She could feel the cold metal of his weapons belt touch her skin through the thin white shirt she wore. With his hand still covering her mouth, the only sound she managed to make was a muffled protest.

"Shut up if you want to live," the spy hissed and she obeyed instantly. Mila had never been in a situation quite as dangerous as the one she was currently in, and it was no secret that her life was in danger just from being on the train. She gasped as his other hand - the hand clutching the pistol - snaked behind her waist and brought her hips forward, against his, away from the wall. They were now standing against each other, no space between their bodies; Mila's shaking and the spy's steady.

She shuddered as the metal of the gun touched against her lower back, just over the skin that had appeared as her shirt had ridden up ever so slightly.

"Keep quiet," he said gently, pleading her with his dark orbs. For some bizarre reason, Mila trusted those warm eyes and his steady features. She nodded slowly, promising to follow his instructions as he let his hands fall back to his sides. Once they were standing in front of each other, not touching and not looking, Mila saw him move out of the corner of her eye. He had bent down to retrieve a small metal object from the floor. At first, Mila thought it was her mobile but then she remembered him handing it to her. It was the small knife he had kept under his watch.

"What are you...?" Mila began quietly but trailed off as she watched him tuck it into the side of his boot. He straightened up and took one more look at her before glancing at the window. He noticed the hole where the bullet had soared through.

"God, you're one lucky woman," he muttered as he examined the clean exit.

Mila said nothing. Instead, she tucked her mobile into her breast pocket and took a small, shy step towards him. "I need to get off this train," she said, hoping he would give some sort of reaction. He didn't and she glared at the back of his head. "Look, I know you're bound by a stupid contract thing like all cliché spies are, but I really need your help! I need to get off of this train. There's been a mistake-"

"Yes there has," he said suddenly, cutting her off. "Your ticket is wrong. And it's not a 'cliché spy thing'. It's a necessary part of the initiation and alliance."

She stared at him incredulously. "My ticket-?"

"Give me it," he said, turning to face her with his hand held out. She wanted to tell him off for his rudeness, but she would only feel silly. If he were a child and not roughly her age, she would have been bold enough to follow through with giving him a row. She let out a sigh in defeat and stuck her thumb and forefinger into her blazer pocket to retract the ticket.