Chapter 2: Chapter 2
His eyes locked on the shattered glass in her hand, then travelled slowly down her naked body, not with lust now, but with a dreadful, dawning comprehension.
“You didn’t,” he whispered, the rage draining into something hollow.
“He was going to take everything,” she said, her voice steady, though her hand shook. The bottle neck glinted. “He used me. So I became the weapon.”
Marcus moaned on the floor, clutching his jaw. “She’s insane, Zachary! She threatened me!”
Zachary ignored him. He stepped over his former friend as if he were litter. He moved towards Fatima, his gaze never leaving hers. He gently pried the broken glass from her white-knuckled grip, setting it on the bar with a soft clink.
He shrugged out of his tailored jacket, the lining still warm from his sprint through the night, and draped it over her shoulders. The smell of him—cologne, sweat, leather—enveloped her.
Then he turned back to Marcus. “Get up.”
Marcus scrambled back, crab-walking on the polished floor until his back hit the wall. “It was just business, Zach! You were losing focus!”
Zachary loomed above him, his silhouette massive in the low light. He placed one polished shoe on Marcus’s thigh, not stomping, just applying unbearable pressure. “You sent me the papers. You called the board. You named her.”
“Please,” Marcus whimpered, his face a mask of snot and blood. “Zach, don’t.”
Zachary increased the pressure, his voice chillingly calm. “Beg.”
Marcus sobbed, the sound wet and broken. “I’m sorry! I’ll call them right now, I’ll fix it! Just don’t kill me!” HE BEGS FOR MERCY.