Mission Impossible

Chapter 60 ~ Unanswered Prayers

CLARA'S POV

"It's time," Zayn softly said next to me, although I felt like I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. The sick bastard was enjoying this. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to hide.

"I don't want to," I pouted.

"You have to," he said, tugging the covers back down. "You already said you would."

"Tell him I'm dead. That will work," I said as I started to get up and out of bed, knowing that it would, in fact, not work.

"Come on, I thought you'd jump at the opportunity to take a swing at him," Zayn theorized, and my ears perked up a bit.

"I have to admit, I didn't really think of it like that," I revealed, a pep in my step now that I had realized not only would have I have the chance to spare Maxwell, but also get inside his head a little bit. I kind of had a thing for that.

"Damian and I will probably join you in a bit," Zayn said as I got some athletic clothes from my to-go bag.

"What will you be doing in the mean time?" I asked him.

"Watching you and Batoff from afar," he joked, although it was entirely possible that he and Damian would sent up camp to watch what was sure to be quite the show. I chuckled.

"My protector," I joked.

I didn't plan on it, and I really didn't want to, but memories of Harry resurfaced as I joked with Zayn. How when I sparred Marcus for the "third" time, Harry was by myself the entire time, and swooping me up at the end of it all to...protect me. And here Zayn was, egging me on. So really, it was Harry: He was my protector.

I'm Clara fucking Walker. I don't need a 'protector'. I can take care of myself.

"Always," Zayn said as he walked up behind me and gave me a kiss on the head. I gave him a soft smile even thought he could not see as I went into the bathroom to get ready. Some training would clear my mind, and that was what I needed.

After I had brushed my teeth and hair, applied deodorant, and gotten dressed, I exited the bathroom and my room, trotting down the stairs to the main floor, and down another flight to get to the basement. I walked into the home-gym to see Maxwell in a T-shirt and shorts, which almost looked foreign. His back was to me as he fumbled with his phone.

"You're late," he said without turning to me. Here we go.

"I'm a minute early," I corrected him as I stepped further into the gym.

"I thought your school would have taught you better," he remarked, and the mention of D.R. set me on edge. What he said was in no way a threat, I just...worried about them. Probably because I left them with a murderous woman who claimed to protect them.

"Let's get on the mat and I'll show you what my school taught me," I couldn't help but bite back. Maxwell turned his head to the side slightly, enough to see a small smirk stretching across his face.

"There she is," he said as he clicked a song on his phone and set it down before walking over to the mat in the center of the room. I raised my eyebrow at him as I realized what he was doing; he was trying to rile me up. He had to know what I was like when I was angry, so I was intrigued at his confidence to fight me in that state. My anger fizzled down as my curiosity bubbled up. What angle was he playing?

Maxwell stared at me from the mat, as I stared at him from the door. "Are you coming, or shall I get Zayn to instruct you?" His words kicked started me into action, and I angrily smirked as I walked to the mat.