Lacy - Z.M (Book 2, Malik Series)

2.

Memories.

That's all I'm left with.

Every fucking day is like a marathon of memories. A specific scent, a certain sound. Anything triggers memories.

Three months later and I want to admit that I hate him. I mean, I do. I really do, but there's still that emptiness.

Since that day, all I could think about was his words.

I never believed them, but giving yourself so much time to think about it, having it replay over and over again in your head gives you false thoughts or accusations.

I've started to believe that he never had anything for me. Because right from the start, he only wanted his brother.

I was just another slave, another number for his game. He was selling me to Hafid and he didn't stop the auction or even pull me out of it.

Hafid was a notorious slave owner that had killed Zayns parents. Years later he had kidnapped Zaidan who was Zayn's brother.

For revenge, Zayn had become a slave owner, kidnapping girls and training them to send to Hafid in return for Zaidan.

But that was all a delusional illusion.

Hafid's real name was Yaser, disguising himself for decades with the alias name, Hafid.

Zayn had grown up to think that Yaser was the enemy when Yaser was really Zayns father.

During my captivity, I had grown afraid of Yaser and I was fearful for my life.

But when I was sold to Yaser, he made promises to set me free, and he did. But only under certain terms.

He wanted me out of Zaidan and Zayns life for good.

I respected it at the time until Zayn had did me dirty.

I shake my head and look down as the snoring man shifts from beside me.

Two more hours on this god damn flight.

Every time I close my eyes, I picture that lifeless slave owner in front of me.

While I was in Dubai, I had managed to meet a slave owner that had been involved with Zayns slaves at the slave auction.

It took me a while to figure out who he was, but I definitely remembered his face.

He was just as bad as Zayn, if not, worse.

After finding out that he was in Dubai for a holiday, from his personal assistant that I had interrogated, he was low on body guard, which made it easier for me to target him.

I had brought the gun from a dealer in Dubai and disposed it in the back dumpster of the hotel I was staying at.

I've killed three men in my life and I still carry grief inside of me.

Once I'm done with Zayn, I'd make that my last kill.

/ /

I was dreading to go home when the wig began to itch like a mother fucker.

The lady at the desk smiled politely at me, obviously putting on a fake facade before I slide my passport to her.

My nerves began to settle in.

Going away with my own identity and coming back with a dead girls passport isn't always the best thing for someone with anxiety like I have.

Adriana Wall was her name, and now my 'name'.