FATE

Chapter 6: A Sudden Threat

The words echoed in Amara’s mind, slicing through the dim light of the hotel room like a jagged knife. She froze, her heart dropping into her stomach, disbelief and terror swirling together into a sickening rush. That voice—it was unmistakable, full of cold fury and simmering desperation.

She pressed herself against the wall, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle the ragged breaths that threatened to give her away. Her mind scrambled to piece together how this was possible—how David had found her all the way in Miami, standing just outside the door, his presence like a nightmare come to life.

She heard Zayne’s voice, rough and low, trying to keep calm despite the tension thick in the air. “Yow David, yuh need fi lef yasso, hear dat? This nuh concern yuh nuh more.”

David’s laugh came, but it wasn’t the warm, easy sound she’d known. It was twisted, mocking, edged with something darker. “Wah the fuck yuh just say? Ofcourse it bomboclaat concern me. Amara a fimi kmft”. 

Amara’s blood turned to ice. She could hear the barely contained rage in David’s voice, the unhinged edge that sent chills down her spine. She peeked through the crack of the door, just in time to see David step forward, his face twisted in a sneer, his eyes wild with something she had never seen before—something that made him a stranger.

Zayne squared his shoulders, stepping in front of the door, blocking David’s path. His expression was calm but deadly, the air crackling with unspoken threats. “If yuh think mi a mek yuh tek  tek har from mi, yuh madder than mi tink to pussyclaaat. Tun ‘roun and lef before dis get ugly.”

David’s face twisted, and in a flash, he pulled something from his jacket—a glint of metal that caught the light, making Amara’s stomach lurch with fear. A gun.

She bit back a gasp, pressing herself deeper into the shadows, praying they wouldn’t notice her. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst, her mind racing with panic. Zayne’s eyes flicked to the weapon, his body going still as he raised his hands slightly, trying to defuse the tension.

“David, try nuh be a bloodclaat fool. Put up dat,” Zayne said, his voice dropping, thick with warning. “Yuh know dis nah go end well fi yuh if yuh pull dat trigga.”

David’s hand shook slightly as he waved the gun, but his expression hardened, his mouth curling into a twisted smirk. “Yuh tink you a di big man ya, huh? Tink you can just swoop in, tek mine, and get weh wid it? Nuh todeh, rich bwoy. Mi mek sure mek 1 a mi dawg them scope out me place and falla Amara. Mi ketch di pree and mek few links and get unuh location. Yuh site? Yuh rich but mi got links memba dat bloodclaat. Yuh nah tek Amara from me juss so, yuh mad? ”

Zayne’s eyes never left the gun, but his voice stayed steady. “Dis a nuh bout mi or yuh, David. Dis a bout Amara. She mek a choice, and yuh need fi respect dat. Yuh a act like a madman, and dis nah bring har back.”

David’s face contorted with rage, his grip tightening on the gun. “Me nuh give a Fuck wah she tink she want. She a *come home* wid mi, one way or another.”

In that instant, Amara realized she couldn’t just hide and hope this would end on its own. She couldn’t let Zayne stand alone against David’s anger, couldn’t let him get hurt because of her. Summoning every ounce of courage she had left, she stepped out of the shadows, her voice trembling but clear.

“David, put dung di gun!” she shouted, making both men whip their heads toward her. She felt the air thicken with tension, felt the weight of their eyes on her as she took a shaky step forward, her hands held up in a plea.

David’s eyes blazed with a mix of hurt and fury, the gun twitching in his hand as he swung it toward her. “Amara, yuh nuh know wah you a do. Him *brainwash*, doh? Tink him can give you the world, but him nuh know yuh like me!”

Zayne tensed, stepping closer to David, but Amara shook her head, trying to keep her voice calm even as her insides twisted with terror. “David, please. This isn’t you. Just put down the gun, and we can talk about this.”

David’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of something softer passing over his face—confusion, maybe even regret. But then his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous resolve. “No, Amara. You a come back wid mi, *now*. We can fix this, mek it like it was before.”

Amara swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes as she saw the man she’d once loved turn into someone she barely recognized. She tried to think of the right words to reach him, but her mind was blank with fear. Zayne’s voice cut through the silence, low and cold.

“Yuh need fi lef, David. Last warning. This nah go end well fi yuh.”

David’s grip on the gun tightened, his expression twisting with rage. He raised the gun, aiming it directly at Zayne’s chest, and Amara felt her breath catch, her world narrowing to that single, terrible moment.

But Zayne moved faster than she’d ever seen, lunging forward and grabbing David’s wrist with a strength that left David gasping. They struggled, the gun twisting between them as they grappled for control. Amara’s heart pounded in her ears, her feet frozen to the ground as she watched the two men fight, their bodies a blur of motion and rage.

“Zayne, be careful!” she cried, her voice breaking as she watched them struggle for dominance. She took a step forward, desperate to intervene, but the crack of a gunshot rang through the room, freezing her in place.

The sound was deafening, echoing off the walls, and for a second, everything seemed to slow to a crawl. Amara watched in horror as David staggered back, clutching his side, a look of shock spreading across his face. Blood bloomed through his shirt, dark and vivid against the fabric, and his legs buckled beneath him.

Zayne stood there, breathing hard, the gun now in his hand, his expression a mix of shock and grim determination. He dropped the weapon immediately, his hands trembling as he stared down at David, who lay gasping on the floor, his face twisted in pain.

“Oh my God, David…” Amara’s voice cracked as she rushed forward, falling to her knees beside him. She pressed her hands to the wound, feeling the hot, sticky warmth of blood seeping between her fingers, but she couldn’t stop the tears from blurring her vision. “Why yuh do dis? Why yuh couldn’t  juss lef we alone?”

David looked up at her, his face pale, the fire in his eyes dimming as he struggled to breathe. “Mi… Mi juss want yuh back, Amara. Mi cya lose yuh to him,” he gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Zayne knelt beside her, his expression tight with anguish as he pulled out his phone, dialing emergency services with shaking hands. “Mi a call fi help, David. Just wul on.”

But Amara could see the truth in David’s eyes, the fear and regret mingling with the fading light in his gaze. She held his hand tightly, even as her heart broke, even as she felt the last threads of their shared past slipping away.

The sound of sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder, but time seemed to stretch as she knelt there, holding on to the broken fragments of a life that had already slipped through her fingers. David’s grip on her hand loosened, his eyes fluttering closed, and she choked back a sob, pressing her forehead to his as she whispered, “I’m sorry, David. I’m so sorry.”

Zayne’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, his touch but heavy with the weight of what they’d just been through. “Amara… we haffi lef now. The police soon come.”

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face, her whole body shaking. “Wah we ago do, Zayne? Suppose them tink yuh—?”

“Mi nah mek nth happen to yuh, Amara. Mi promise,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. He pulled her up, cradling her against his chest as they backed away from David’s still form, the sirens growing closer, the lights flashing against the windows.

As they slipped out of the hotel room and into the night, Amara clung to Zayne, her mind reeling with the events that had unfolded. Everything had changed in the span of a heartbeat, and as the darkness of the city swallowed them up, she realized that the future she had chosen was far more dangerous—and far more uncertain—than she could have ever imagined.