Zayna Malik's eyes fluttered open. At first, it felt as though the weight of the world was pressing down on her eyelids, forcing them shut. It took every ounce of strength she had to lift them. A dull ache pulsed behind her temples, a throbbing reminder of the darkness she had been lost in for who knew how long. The light that greeted her was harsh, fluorescent, casting a sterile glow that made her stomach churn.
She squinted, trying to adjust, but the cold air around her made her shiver, and she couldn't quite make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. Her breath was shallow, panic beginning to settle in her chest as she assessed the situation. Her hands were bound tightly behind her, wrists cuffed in cold, unforgiving metal. The cold steel of the handcuffs dug into her skin, but it was the chill in the room that made her feel exposed, vulnerable, and small.
The place around her was stark, clinical even-concrete walls, dim lighting, a single metal door, and nothing but the hard floor beneath her. A small table in the corner, an unoccupied chair, and a faint, musty smell that seemed to haunt the room. Her eyes darted around, but nothing looked familiar. Her heart raced as she strained against her restraints.
Where am I?
As her vision slowly adjusted, memories of the last few hours-or had it been days?-began to flood her mind.
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Flashback
It had been a normal day. The kind of day where everything seemed to follow routine. Zayna had left her house, intended to drop by the grocery store-walking through the crowded streets of the city, her mind preoccupied with assignments and deadlines that were thrown by school. She hadn't noticed the black car that had been tailing her for the last few blocks. It was quick-too quick. One moment, she had been walking, then, before she could even react, a cloth had been pressed against her face. The world spun violently as the chloroform took its hold, her body going limp in an instant.
The next thing she remembered was waking up here.
---
Zayna's breath hitched as she pulled herself back into the present, trying to shake off the remnants of that memory. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings.
"Wher- where am I-?" She cries.
But before she could gather her thoughts, a door creaked open.
A figure stepped inside-tall, imposing, his presence immediately filling the room. He moved with a calm, calculated grace, his every step deliberate. His dark suit was impeccable, tailored to perfection, and his white shirt gleamed sharply under the dim lights. His appearance screamed power, control-everything Zayna had never imagined being at the mercy of.
His sharp features were framed by dark hair, and his cold blue eyes-deep, dark, and unreadable-locked onto hers the moment he entered. Zayna felt a chill crawl down her spine.
Damien Cross.
His perfect accent cut through the silence, smooth and lethal. "How do you feel, Zayla?"
Zayla. The name grated against her mind, wrong, unfamiliar. But it wasn't her name. Not Zayna.
She didn't answer. Her throat felt dry, and she couldn't bring herself to speak.
He took slow, deliberate steps toward her, his gaze never leaving hers. He was calm, too calm, in a way that made the room feel suffocating. He held something in his hand-a photograph. He flicked it casually.
He slipped it over the edge of table . Zayna's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the image, her heart pounding in her chest.
It was her, but not her. Same features,same eyes , same scar near the chin . But she had strange expression- fierce and cold.
"Who is she? "She cries but it comes more like a wispher. She can't seem to even be able to speak in his presence.
"You are aware . Yet you're asking me?" He mocks. A grin appears on his face.
Zayna feels herself trembling. Not being able to meet his gaze.
"I ?-i should know? No" she says"I don't know .How - how am I suppose to know? What ! what am I suppose to know?"
"Nothing .Exactly you're suppose to know nothing."
Zayna feels her breath unevening. Her heart beats faster then ever. Forcefully she looks up . To meet his gaze. Only to witness a horribly strange yet familiar man . She is palpably terrifeid.
Damien took a step back, his gaze unflinching. He turned and walked towards the door, his presence still looming in the room.
"Time to make a use of you, zayla"
Before the door shut, he looked back once more. His eyes bored into hers, cold and unfeeling.
And she felt nothing but agony through her body. But the sight of him leaving wasn't as horrible as to what she accidentally or deliberatly witnessed .
Zayla's eyes caught something through the narrow opening-a glimpse into the corridor beyond. Her breath hitched. Just across the hall, in a glass-walled chamber, a cluster of white-coated scientists moved with unsettling precision. Screens flickered with DNA sequences, rotating 3D models of human anatomy, and a glowing red file labeled "Z-2." One man was injecting something into a sealed chamber, while another adjusted a breathing apparatus over what looked like a body. The door clicked shut. Darkness returned. Zayna stood frozen, heart pounding in her ears, her hands trembling.
---
Zayna flinched, the sound of his voice still echoing in her head. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but she couldn't. She was too weak, too broken. The coldness in his eyes, that unyielding stare, had shattered something in her. She couldn't fight him. Not yet. Not now.
A voice from the shadows broke her from her daze.
"Get up. You need to move," a man's voice ordered, harsh but not unkind. His hands were on her arms, helping her to her feet.
Zayna stumbled, her legs shaky, her body exhausted from the trauma. She followed him through a narrow hallway, her stomach growling with hunger. She didn't care. She was too tired to care. They led her into a small chamber, sparse and functional-another cold room, but with a small bed in the corner.
A tray of food sat on a metal table, the steam rising from the hot meal. She hadn't eaten in what felt like days, but the thought of food didn't appeal to her. Her body, drained of energy, was too exhausted to protest.
She ate quickly, shoveling food into her mouth, not tasting it. She was too tired. Too broken.
Afterward, she collapsed onto the bed, the weariness consuming her. She barely noticed the thin blanket as she curled up beneath it, her mind still reeling from the events that had unfolded.
And then, before she knew it, she was asleep.
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End of Chapter 1
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Fake Identity
FanfictionFake identity follows Zayna, who wakes up in a high-security facility with no memory of how she got there. A man calls her Zayla, a name tied to a past she can't remember. As she navigates a world of secrets and manipulation, Zayna must uncover the...
