Semua Bab Rewrite My Fate: Bab 111 - Bab 120

There’s no one else at the mansion except for me. Dave is with Zayn. Martha went home. And Ava isn't around either. Ten minutes later, I slip past the main foyer, jump into my car, and drive out of the estate gates completely alone. The guards asked where I was heading to, but I told them I was going to the store and wouldn't be long. When I reach the hospital, I purposely bypass the main elevator. Instead, I take the concrete stairs leading down into the belly of the parking garage. The air down here feels suffocating. And the garage is eerily quiet. The lights overhead flicker, casting distorted shadows across the endless rows of parked vehicles. My heart is beating loudly in my chest. My heels click sharply against the floor, the sound echoing off the low ceiling. The late-shift traffic is practically non-existent as no one else is here except for me. I walk past row after row of cars until the painted pillar reads 4B.Right there, parked under a buzzing, dim fluorescent bulb, i

~ZAYN~The meeting with my grandmother took longer than I expected. Immediately after, I call Jade, but her cellphone is switched off. It’s never off. So I check the tracking application on my phone, but it doesn’t blink. It sits entirely still like a solitary blue dot glowing against the digital map of Manhattan.What’s she doing in Manhattan? She’s supposed to be at home in Westchester.Five hours of a high-speed hunt through the rain-slicked streets of New York led blindly by a satellite signal brings us here. To the edge of nothing. “Boss,” Dave whispers, his voice cutting through the steady drum of the freezing downpour.I don't look at him. My boots are buried in the mud of a secluded, rotting shipping pier off the West Side Highway. The black water of the Hudson River churns angrily below us, swallowing the city's filth.Two of my private divers break the surface, their heavy breathing echoing under the concrete overpass. One of them climbs up the slippery rocks, his gloved ha

JADEI don’t know why my mind chooses this exact moment to remind me of the time I could taste freedom like honey and breathe it in like air. It was sweet, I can’t even lie. Freedom is something you don't know how much you cherish until it’s stripped from you.And love… genuine love is one of the good things that make one feel truly free. Because tell me why every image that’s pulsing through my mind is of Zayn? Why do I think of only him? The metal on my wrists bites deeper into my skin every time I draw a fresh breath. But memories of Zayn cut deeper than anything else. I wish I’d looked at him far longer than I did before he left.I wish I’d memorized the ink on his skin and asked him what they meant. I wish I… I wish I’d said ‘I love you’ even if I wasn't sure if he’d say it back. A stray tear escapes my eye. The concrete floor beneath me is freezing, bleeding a numbing chill straight through my clothes and into my bones.I use the back of my hand to wipe away my tears. I should

I run out of the warehouse. I realize it’s night. The cold air is cutting into my lungs. I try to take in steady breaths as I sprint, but breathing is just too hard. It begins to rain. The storm is blinding, driving needles of freezing precipitation straight into my eyes as I stumble across the muddy gravel of the yard. I can’t see what’s ahead of me. I can only hear what is behind—the terrifying thud of heavy boots tearing through the puddles.“She went toward the perimeter! Split up and find her!”Damon’s men. They are right on my heels. My foot catches on a rusted piece of rebar hidden in the mud. I gasp, throwing my hands out as I go crashing into the wet gravel. Pain flares in my knees, but the adrenaline overrides it. I must escape. I need to survive. I scramble back up to my feet, my breath hitching in my throat, sobbing from exhaustion. I can’t go back into that cage. I can’t let them hand me over to Damon. I don’t want to die in his hands.I round the corner of a rusted meta

“You’ve always known how to land a good punch,” Damon says.I step around the desk, towering over him like the shadow of death itself. I reach down, grabbing him by his shirt and hauling him to his feet with one hand. I wrap my hand around his neck and slam his back against the wooden desk. My grip is so tight his airway is completely restricted, his face turning a mottled purple beneath the blood. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t paint this room with your brains right now.”Damon doesn't look afraid. That is his sickness. He spits blood onto the front of my shirt, a wet, rattling laugh bubbling up from his throat.“There he is, the real Zayn Hemsworth. Look at you... acting like a savage over a girl. You always were weak, Zayn.”I tighten my grip, my fingers burying into his throat until his windpipe groans under the pressure. “I froze your offshore accounts. By tomorrow morning, you won't even have enough money to buy a meal, let alone a helicopter out of this country.”“You do