As Zayn walked further into the garden, he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. The garden was so breathtakingly beautiful that no words could fully capture its essence. It was as if he had stepped into another world—a world entirely separate from the ordinary, where every corner seemed to be touched by magic. Everywhere he looked, flowers were in full bloom, their vibrant colors stretching across the landscape like an artist's finest brushstrokes.
Some of the flowers Zayn had never seen before, their delicate petals shining in the evening glow. The roses, the lilies, the violets—each one more magnificent than the last. It was as though time itself had stopped to allow this beauty to unfold. The air was thick with the fragrance of fresh blooms, a heady mixture of sweet scents that made Zayn feel intoxicated with a feeling of peace he had not experienced in years. It was as if, for the first time in a long while, he had found a place where he could simply breathe.
He marveled at the scene, feeling his heart lighten, as though the weight of the world had been momentarily lifted. If it were possible, he thought, he would have gladly spent the rest of his life in this garden, surrounded by its calming beauty. For once, he felt at ease, as if the troubles of the world couldn't touch him here.
The night air was cool, and strategically placed lights illuminated the garden, casting a soft, golden glow over the flowers. The flickering lights made the garden appear even more magical, as if it were a secret place hidden away from the rest of the world. In the center of the garden stood a stunning gazebo, adorned with cascading flowers and vines, a perfect place for someone to rest, reflect, or simply lose themselves in the serenity of the moment.
Zayn stood there, taking in the scene. For a brief moment, he forgot the noise and bustle of the party inside. He was alone in the garden, just him and the flowers, the perfect silence enveloping him like a comforting blanket.
As he stepped closer to the gazebo, his footsteps light and tentative, Zayn couldn't help but feel a sense of tranquility settle over him. There was something about the space—something that made him feel both connected and distant, as though he were in the presence of something ancient and untouchable. He allowed himself to linger in the moment, allowing the peaceful solitude to wash over him completely.
Meanwhile, inside the house, Aric, still hidden behind the scenes, was trying to piece together the mystery of Zayn's presence in his life. He had been trying to learn more about Zayn, to uncover who had brought him to this moment. He knew that Finn was the key to unlocking that answer. Aric had always trusted Finn's judgment, knowing he was a good person, and in his mind, Finn's friendship with Zayn might reveal more about the man Zayn was.
However, Aric was distracted by the party's commotion, as he was busy observing everything through hidden cameras set up around the mansion. Sitting at his desk in his office, he watched intently as Zayn moved closer to the gazebo on his screen. Aric's curiosity grew, and he focused all his attention on the image of Zayn sitting alone.
It wasn't long before Aric saw Finn quietly excusing himself from the crowd. He was heading in the direction of the restroom, and for a moment, Aric considered this a rare opportunity. He had been waiting for a moment like this, a moment where everything seemed to align perfectly. His gaze lingered on the screen as he saw Zayn lost in his thoughts, unaware of the world around him, sitting alone among the flowers.
Zayn, still gazing at the flowers, felt the sudden shift in the air. His heart, though still at peace, quickened ever so slightly. It was as if he could feel someone's gaze upon him, a silent observation from afar. He shook off the feeling, thinking it was just his imagination. But the sense of being watched lingered.
Zayn's fingers brushed against the delicate petals of a nearby rose, the softness of it reminding him of everything he had longed for but never allowed himself to feel. The warmth of the evening, the quiet of the garden, the intimacy of the moment—it was almost too much for him to process. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes, feeling the emotions swirl inside him. It was as if the garden itself was telling him to let go, to embrace the peace he had been searching for.
The soft whisper of a breeze brushed past him, making the leaves of the trees rustle like a gentle lullaby. Zayn's heart fluttered with an unfamiliar sensation—something that was both beautiful and terrifying. It was a feeling of vulnerability, of being exposed, yet strangely safe in this garden, a place where he could let his guard down, even if just for a moment.
Back inside the mansion, Aric leaned forward, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk. He was watching intently as Zayn sat alone, his back slightly hunched, as though deep in thought. Aric's mind raced with questions, the puzzle of Zayn becoming more complicated with each passing minute.
This was not just a party. Something was unfolding, and Aric knew he had to learn everything he could, especially about Zayn.
As Aric stepped out of his office, he followed Finn's trail, the soft click of his footsteps barely making a sound on the marble floors. His mind raced, the puzzle pieces of Zayn's sudden presence in his life falling into place. His suspicion was growing—he needed answers, and Finn, he knew, was the key.
He kept his pace steady, not rushing, but determined. He watched as Finn neared the restroom. Just as Finn was about to enter, Aric called out to him from behind, his voice low but firm.
"Finn!" he said, his tone sharp and commanding.
Finn froze. Without turning, he knew who it was. He remained still, like an animal sensing a predator behind him, and slowly turned to face Aric. The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating. Finn didn't answer immediately. His lips pressed together in a tight line, as though weighing his options.
Aric stepped closer, his gaze hardening. "Tell me about Zayn," he demanded, his voice laced with both impatience and control.
Finn's reaction was immediate—he shook his head. His eyes narrowed, refusing to engage. "I don't know anything," he replied, his voice cold and dismissive. He quickly backed away, pressing his back against the wall, as if trying to shrink away from the confrontation.
Aric moved in closer, now standing directly in front of him, blocking his way. The tension between them was palpable. "If you care about your life, Finn, you'll answer me," Aric said, his voice a dangerous whisper. His eyes didn't waver, but there was something sharp and predatory in his gaze. He wasn't going to let this go.
Finn, however, remained silent, his jaw clenched, unwilling to betray what he knew. Aric's patience was wearing thin. Without a word, his hand moved, and within seconds, a cold, sharp knife was resting against Finn's throat. The threat was clear—one wrong move, and it would all be over.
For a moment, Aric considered what he would do. His mind raced as he watched Finn's breathing hitch, his eyes darting nervously. Would he slit his throat? Or perhaps, would it be the tongue, silencing him forever? The thought lingered in Aric's mind, the weight of the decision hanging in the air.
But then, something stopped him. A voice—his own—reminded him that if Finn had helped Zayn, perhaps he could be more useful alive. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Aric withdrew the knife slightly, keeping it close enough for Finn to feel its presence, a constant reminder of the consequences.
"Consider yourself lucky," Aric muttered under his breath. "If it weren't for Zayn, you wouldn't be standing here right now. I should've made sure you never saw the light of day again for keeping quiet." His eyes narrowed, cold fury flashing in them.
He leaned in, his voice now a low growl. "You should be grateful for the favor Zayn did you, because I can't promise you'll walk out of here alive next time if you keep playing these games."
Finn swallowed hard, his face pale, but he didn't respond. He didn't have the courage—or perhaps, the will—to speak.
Aric pulled back, his eyes lingering for a moment longer. "You'll regret this, Finn. You might have your reasons, but they won't protect you forever." He turned on his heel, his steps deliberate as he walked away, leaving Finn to stand there, frozen and shaken.
As Aric walked down the hallway, his mind was already moving on to the next step. He needed to find Zayn—now. The garden was the most likely place. He knew Zayn had been there earlier.
Meanwhile, Zayn was still seated in the gazebo. The air around him was calm, but his thoughts were anything but. He felt a strange pull, a sense of urgency deep in his gut. Something was about to happen, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
The flowers around him, so soft and inviting, seemed to whisper, their colors dancing in the gentle breeze. Zayn's eyes lingered on a rose, its petals so delicate, so perfect, it seemed to mirror the emotions inside him. For a brief moment, he forgot about the chaos, the uncertainty—he was simply lost in the beauty of the garden.
But that feeling was fleeting. Soon, his mind returned to the outside world. He knew Jack—his friend—would be looking for him soon. There was no time to waste. Jack had been worried, and though Zayn had felt safe in the garden, he couldn't keep Jack waiting forever.
Reluctantly, Zayn stood up, casting one last glance at the roses. His heart still felt heavy, but the weight of the world was easier to bear here, in the quiet solitude of the garden. He turned and began to walk back toward the mansion, but as he did, the feeling that something was coming grew stronger.
As Zayn stood frozen, his eyes locked with Aric's, a shiver ran through his body, and he halted in his tracks. The air around him suddenly felt thicker, as if he were being drawn into an unspoken tension that he couldn't escape. With a slow, reluctant motion, Zayn turned back toward the gazebo and sat down again, his heart pounding in his chest.
Aric, standing tall in front of him, wore a faint, unsettling smile on his lips. The way his eyes bore into Zayn made him feel exposed, vulnerable—like a prey under the gaze of a predator. It was as though Aric could see straight through him, into the deepest corners of his soul, where all his secrets lay hidden.
Zayn shifted uncomfortably under Aric's gaze. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to look away, but he couldn't. He felt trapped. Aric wasn't just looking at him; it was more like he was consuming him with his eyes. Zayn felt a chill run down his spine as he realized that the man before him wasn't merely intimidating—he was terrifying.
Aric's gaze was dark, almost feral. It was as if something deep within him had awoken, a side that Zayn could never have imagined existed. His pupils, dilated and unwavering, had a sharp, predatory gleam, as if he were savoring the fear he instilled in Zayn. The air between them grew thick with unspoken words. Zayn, still looking down, found himself unable to breathe properly, as though the weight of Aric's stare was pressing the very air out of his lungs.
Zayn's fingers, now trembling with anxiety, instinctively reached for his palms. His nails—slightly too long, though not sharp—dug into his skin, creating small indentations as he absentmindedly scratched his hands, desperate for some release from the tension. His nails, though not overly long, were enough to hurt him, as though the pain would somehow distract him from the paralyzing fear rising within him.
Aric's eyes, dark and intense, followed every subtle movement of Zayn's hand. There was a coldness in his gaze—something predatory and unsettling—like he was relishing Zayn's discomfort. He saw the way Zayn's fingers flexed and tightened around his skin, as though trying to grasp onto anything, anything that would ground him.
Zayn, clad in his usual attire—a tight-fitting t-shirt that emphasized his lean physique—was trying to hide the scars that marred his skin. The long sleeves of the shirt were enough to cover the most noticeable marks, but the memories of how those scars had come to be were still fresh in Zayn's mind. The marks on his arms were a reminder of the past he couldn't escape, of battles fought in silence.
His hair, as always, fell loosely across his forehead, framing his face in a way that softened his sharp features. It gave him a youthful, innocent look that contrasted sharply with the haunted expressions in his eyes. Aric, despite the tension between them, couldn't help but notice how Zayn's messy hair looked almost charming, as though the vulnerability in his appearance was a hidden part of him that Aric was drawn to. He wanted to reach out, to run his fingers through Zayn's hair, but he forced himself to hold back. He couldn't let himself get distracted by that softness—not when so much was at stake.
Zayn, aware of the dangerous allure Aric held, felt his heart race. The mere thought of Aric's touch, even in such a fleeting, innocent manner, made his breath catch in his throat. He could almost feel the tension in the air shift, a silent invitation to something much deeper—something that could lead to either destruction or… something far more complicated. His body tensed even further as he tried to pull himself back from the temptation that Aric's proximity evoked.
Then, Aric spoke, his voice soft but firm. "What's your name?"
Zayn was caught off guard by the question, and for a brief second, he forgot how to breathe. Aric's tone wasn't harsh—it wasn't a command. It was almost too soft, too gentle, as though Aric were trying to coax Zayn into trusting him. But Zayn couldn't trust him—not yet, not after everything that had happened. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at Aric's lips, a smile that felt like a thin veil over something far darker lurking beneath.
Zayn, still feeling the pressure of Aric's gaze, slowly lifted his head, meeting Aric's eyes for the first time in a while. His heart beat painfully in his chest as the warmth from Aric's smile washed over him, sending a new kind of nervous energy through his veins. He couldn't help but notice the softness in Aric's eyes now, as though he were waiting for an answer—waiting for something more than just a name. But Zayn wasn't sure he was ready to give that to him. Not yet.