{THIRD PERSON}
The moon glistened over the city through the night. Stars littered the dark sky, each one having a name and a story.
Zion wished his life was as simple as the sky. The stars, the moon, the clouds. They all had a place and a reason.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke as he waited for the familiar vibration of his phone in his pocket. Yes, he was smoking again...Something he vowed to give up so he would be able to die from a cause out of his control. And cigarettes were definitely in his control dominion.
But what wasn't in his control was the thing drowning his thoughts.
Zhara.
The name sparked a flame in him, somewhere in his chest or in his mind, maybe both. He could feel the name in his fingertips, in his nerves. He could see the name everywhere, in the sky that he was glaring at from his balcony. He could hear the name in wind, in the quiet, far-off sounds of the city that never sleeps.
And now quite literally, according to the contract, Zhara was under no one's control. She technically never was.
No one could control that woman.
Yesterday afternoon, they had gone into the city to see the particular gang that would be giving extra surveillance to the Di Maggio's. Zion couldn't focus on anything the entire time. He had Liam addressing most of the work. Zion's second-in-command is definitely his saving grace right now.
And the fact that Zhara is stable.
Running a hand through his hair, he decided that he would not go see the girl while smelling like smoke. She deserved better than that.
He stripped off his suit jacket as he walked back into his bedroom, throwing it to the nearby chair next to a clean side table. His muscles were tight and tense, the cigarette had not done anything to ease the stress he had flowing through his veins like blood.
He tried to avoid looking at himself in the mirror of his bathroom, afraid that he would not be impressed with what he saw. His chest ached with each breath like there was something in his throat trying to strangle him.
Ignoring the feeling, he stepped into the steaming shower, hoping the heat of the water would soothe the permanent pain. He closed his eyes, wondering what would happen if he stayed away forever. He let the water run over his face, drenching his skin and hair as his mind went back to her.
"Fuck," he pressed a fist to the wall, running the other hand down his face.
He had to see her, whether or not she would know he was there or if she was even awake. It didn't matter to him.
Nothing mattered when it came to her. She wouldn't get out of his head.
Zhara.
Her name. The name was everywhere.
~~~
Zion cut the engine of the newest Audi e-Tron model, making sure the parking lot was empty except for the cars he could recognize as belonging to employees and guards. He scanned his surroundings, knowing that he didn't have a personal guard with him at this time of the evening. One in the morning, to be specific. He was aware of the twenty-five guards lining the ground level and top level of the hospital.
He made his way toward the locked entrance, content with the amount of precaution he put on this place. He typed in the passcode only he would know, then swiped the key-card most of his close-handed employees had. The tinted glass doors slid open to reveal the second entrance room where guests or approved visitors would be checked.
The three men guarding this room nodded curtly at their boss, but Zion knew that they were hiding a shocked expression. Zion rarely came to his establishments without disguise or at least multiple personal guards. It wasn't like he made everyone else do the work while he sat on his rhetoric throne, he actually did come to his businesses to do jobs by hand. Yes, he had people that would do things for him, but only the work he had built up with exceptional pay.
He entered the empty main lobby, with the exception of a few family members who had someone close to them recovering in the hospital. Receiving another nod from the receptionist, Zion kept the number of people who saw him to a minimum. He was in a vulnerable situation, something he hated with a passion.
He walked past many more guards that were heavily armed on his way to the elevator. He already knew her room number. He had made sure she got the best.
He adjusted his suit as the elevator ascended with small dings in recognition of each floor passed. Deep down he hoped she was awake. The doctor had said it had been almost a day and a half since she got out of surgery, so she would most likely be awake by now due to her fast recovery.
Zhara had always been a tough one to break.
Zion exited the elevator, but not before dodging two people coming from the right side of the hall. He almost pulled out his gun, but recognized them as the doctors he assigned to Zhara. Both were heavily qualified in their position; again, he gave Zhara the best.
Dr. Hawes, the aging short woman was the first to acknowledge Zion respectfully. Dr. Garcia, being the high-level surgeon he was, observed Zion before greeting him.
"Mr. Armani," Hawes nodded toward Zion, adjusting her glasses. Garcia nodded soon after.
Zion realized they had just been speaking to each other before, so he spoke his curiosity.
"What's her condition?" he prodded, glancing down at the clipboard in Dr. Garcia's grasp.
"She's doing better with breathing. She's stable and awake but isn't responding well to questions," Dr. Garcia stated monotonously. Zion held his gaze before Dr. Hawes spoke up.
"Well, it's mostly just due to the trauma the shock put her in. She also isn't familiar with us yet, so I'm sure she would respond better if someone she knew was speaking to her," the lady assured, avoiding eye contact with the Don.
"Just be calm if you do interact with her. She's only been awake for a few hours," Dr. Garcia added, giving Zion one last glance before looking like he wanted to get out of the conversation.
"Did you give her what I asked of you?" Zion questioned. The two doctors met each other's gaze before responding with yesses.
Zion stared blankly before walking past the two, holding back the urge to fix that man's attitude. Once he spotted the two guards posted outside a larger door, his footsteps suddenly moved more swiftly on the smooth vinyl floor. The light-grey walls started feeling closer on his tall figure as he got closer to the nicest patient room in the whole building.
The two guards stepped to the side to give Zion room to enter the room, and Zion swiped the card once again before opening the bullet-proof door, holding his breath for what he would see.
The room was definitely good enough for Zhara. A large window with a view of the tall skyscrapers of New York City was on the wall parallel to the door. The comforted patient bed was wheeled over to the left wall that was painted a darker grey than the others for an accent. A small table was stationed on one side of the bed. A small tray of food laid untouched on it, as well as multiple books- the ones Zion had ordered to be brought to her room- and a lamp that gave the room a warm glow. On the other side, there was the fluid machine and actual medical equipment for the patient. On the right side, many paintings littered the wall as well as shelves with different necessities Zhara may have needed. The door that led to her bathroom was to the right as well, right beside the visitor chairs and a desk with multiple flowers and various small plants.
Alerted by the noise, the girl curled up on the bed with a black fleece blanket paused her reading to look over at the door.
Her heterochromia multi-colored eyes seemed to light up in recognition when she saw Zion. Her lips parted as her mind searched for something to say.
Zion held back any emotion as he shut the door behind him, the view of the city catching his attention for a split second. He was a little jealous.
He looked back at the girl, noticing how it had been a while since he had seen her in just a sweatshirt and shorts. How could someone look like that in such simple clothes?
"Hi," she muttered, sounding tired and softer than usual. She winced as she sat up a little, causing Zion to walk over to her in case she was in pain. He adjusted the clutter of pillows to help prop her up, the feel of his hands near her causing her to freeze.
The book that she was reading was now resting carelessly on the bed, along with every drop of sense they both had.
Zion looked around for a second, looking for a chair to sit in so he could be closer to her. He moved the one in the corner over to the bed and sat down, being at a more even level with her now.
Her hair was pulled back away from her face, something he had to scold himself for focusing too long on.
"Have you been able to eat?" he pondered, glancing down at the untouched sandwich on the table.
She nodded, bringing her knees up to her chest. She glanced around the room, acting like she hadn't been in it for almost two days now. Zion stayed silent for a few seconds, still observing the girl he felt like he hadn't seen in years.
"How are you feeling?" he broke the ice, heating it and melting it so she would feel comfortable enough to speak to him.
"Sore," she breathed out, rubbing her hands up and down her arms slowly. He accepted her answer, coming to the conclusion that it was time to tell her the truth. She needed to know.
"Is he...?" she hesitated, "...Xavier?" she interrupted his thoughts.
"Dead," Zion finished her sentence, confirming her suspicion. She made eye contact with Zion, wondering if Zion had been the one to-
"I have something I'd like you to read," he stated before he got too lost in her, pulling the envelope from inside his jacket pocket. She raised a questioning brow at him.
A bullet would never knock the sass out of her. Not even two.
"Do you sleep in a suit?" she questioned shamelessly, looking at his attire. He paused in his actions, narrowing his eyes at her before shaking his head and handing her the black envelope.
She ran her bruised fingertips over the matte paper, which drew his attention once again. She was still recovering from that, too. Something he had done to her.
How could she be sitting here without wanting to kill him? Maybe she was...she was just too injured to do it.
Zion blinked away the thoughts and instead watched as Zhara opened up the envelope, trying not to ruin the wax-pressed seal. Taking out the folded paper inside, she looked up at Zion and smirked.
"Isn't this a little extra?" she waved the fancy black sleeve around. Zion glared at her, trying to figure out why he suddenly tolerated her so much.
"Just read the damn thing," he snapped, acting like a put-out child. Zhara smiled slightly, the sight catching him off guard.
She unfolded the paper and he watched as her eyes traveled around the paper, her face contorting into mixed emotions before going right back to normal. She was so used to doing that, he assumed.
"They're here?" was the first thing she asked, and he couldn't tell if she was excited or scared.
"Yes. They're staying at a home not too far from the safe house," was his answer. She nodded, not really knowing how to reply to the news.
She continued reading, and he was hoping her reaction wouldn't be negative.
Zion watched as she exhaled heavily before putting the paper in her lap, pressing her hands to the sides of her face.
"You're not fucking with me?" she sounds exasperated. He shook his head, pointing to the signatures of the witnesses as well.
"Holy shit, Zion," she exclaimed, looking down at the typed alliance that Zion and Ajax signed yesterday. His name from her mouth made him tense.
She grasped his hand in her cold one, the thing attached to her finger grazing the back of his hand. It was a silent thank you. For what? He had no idea yet.
"You're not legally owned by anyone anymore, and you should've never been before," he addressed, not used to the contact that heated his skin. He wondered if she could feel his heartbeat through his hand.
"You're not their's, you're not your Alphonzo's, and you're not mine," he admits, although somewhere holed out inside him wanted to be selfish.
Did she feel what he felt? It didn't matter anymore. It wouldn't matter. It couldn't.
"When you recover, you can leave. If you want to go back to your family, then go ahead," he says, trying not to squeeze her hand to death in regret, "I know you said you would leave when you wanted to, but now, you still can, and no one will try to kill you when you do."
She looked away from him, not understanding the jumbled-up mess in her brain. He let go of her hand, taking it as his sign to go and leave her to think about it.
Her eyes snapped up to him as he walked towards the door, leaving her and the stupidly amazing view of New York City alone.
She looked down at the contract, running her finger over his signature. She took a deep breath, and with all of the self-confidence left in her, she looked back up at Zion and his one-in-the-morning black suit.
"Don't tell me what to do," she spoke, his hand froze on the doorknob. He thought she was being her usual self and was somewhat relieved with her snappiness, but when he turned around to tell her off, the pain in his chest swelled. Whatever was swallowing his breathing grew, and his airway was fully blocked.
He forgot how to breathe, hell, he forgot how to live when he saw Zhara smile. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs hanging off as she looked at him. Really looked at him.
And now, this vulnerable situation was the first in his lifetime that he did not hate. He looked out the window, contemplating the consequences.
He saw her move out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly she was walking over to him, making sure not to stretch the cords attached to her too far. He hurried to her side, grabbing her waist and keeping her supported.
"What do you think you're doing?!" he fretted, nudging her back to the bed. She swatted at his hands and protested as he controlled her once again.
"Stop being so dramatic!" she bossed, and then gasped when he lifted her off her feet and sat her right back on the bed. His face stayed hard and her hands grabbed at his wrists, freezing when he stopped moving.
They were close at that moment, and her eyes met with his. She could feel his body against her, her fire suddenly burnt out. He glanced down at her lips, feeling a warning sense of deja vu.
Her mind went blank all except for one thing. Him.
She knew what she had decided. She knew it a long time ago.
And if he pushed her away this time, she would kill him, literally.
She pulled him into her, pressing her lips to his as her fingers wrapped around the edge of his jacket. Her other hand felt the soft hair on the back of his head, saying 'fuck it' repeatedly in her mind.
His hands squeezed her sides, letting her take over for once as he kissed her back. And this time, neither Zion nor Zhara was on the verge of a breakdown.
The sound that came from deep in his chest stopped Zhara from holding back, and she let herself come in contact with her emotions. She pushed through the walls of her fear and apprehension and let the desire reveal itself.
Their lips fit like missing pieces of whatever puzzle you could call this life. Any consequence was worth the feeling of her body on his, he yearned for her skin, her heat.
She was craving him. His hands slid under her sweatshirt, fulfilling both of their needs. She nipped at his bottom lip, pulling a groan from him as he retaliated against her. His hands gripped her bare waist, pulling her body closer to his.
He felt her on the edge of his thumbs, and she shivered, letting him know where his hands were located. She was bare underneath the soft fabric of her sweatshirt, and he loved it.
His tongue met hers as they competed for control, and she let him through her final barrier. Both of their guards were down, something rare and alluring.
Zhara thrived at the feeling of him against her, and she showed him how she felt. He accepted her, all of her in that moment.
And when she pulled away for air, his lips dropped to her neck, never getting enough. Her heart fluttered as she leaned her head back, never once imagining this. He was still with her. He hadn't changed this time. Zion was still here.
"Zhara," he said her name, whispered it repeatedly into her neck. The small breathless noises that left her lips made him use every drop of self-control left in him to hold back. She was still recovering, still in pain from the surgery. She shouldn't even be engaging in any activity...
All the reasons he kept throwing at his conscience, his will to make the right decisions. But none of that bothered him when it came to Zhara.
He bit her tender skin, leaving a mark he hoped would stay there forever. She wasn't just another whore he was using for a release, this was her.
He hadn't touched a girl the way she made him want to touch her in a long time.
"Do you still hate me?" she whispered near his ear, running her hands down his chest. He looked her in the eyes, pressing his forehead to hers.
"I don't fucking know anymore," he grunted, pressing his hands to the warm skin on her back.
"Well, I still hate you," she smirked, giving him barely a second to process what she said before she pulled him against her again, kissing him one last time. She smiled against his lips, pulling away and waving him off with her hand.
"Next time someone comes in here, tell them to bring me some real food," she ordered, looking at the sandwich in disgust. Zion rolled his lips into a flat line at her trying to boss him around again, just like before. Except this time, he liked it.
"Don't tell me what to do," he mocked her as he walked toward the door, but not before throwing her a sly look over his shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Armani," she scrunched up her nose at him, showing just how much better she was feeling after that. He rolled his eyes at her and opened the door, leaving her to herself and the dark view of NYC.
"Fucking hell," she sighed, falling back on the pillows with exhaust.
That definitely wasn't what she imagined to wake up to.