FATE

Chapter 7: On the Run

The flashing red and blue lights lit up the hotel parking lot like a twisted carnival, casting sharp shadows against the palm trees swaying in the night breeze. Zayne’s grip on Amara’s hand was tight as they slipped through the back entrance, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The chaos of what had just happened still pounded in her ears—the gunshot, David’s bloodied body, the weight of Zayne’s promise hanging between them.

They moved quickly, every sound amplified in the quiet night—the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes, the distant murmur of police radios crackling through the air. Zayne’s face was set in a grim mask, his jaw clenched as he scanned their surroundings, guiding Amara away from the hotel’s main entrance and into the shadows.

Amara’s legs felt weak, barely able to keep pace, but she forced herself to keep moving, to focus on the steady pressure of Zayne’s hand. Her mind was spinning with fear and regret, but one thought cut through the haze with brutal clarity—they couldn’t be caught here. Not like this.

As they rounded the corner of the building, Zayne’s car came into view, parked in the shadows beneath a cluster of palm trees. He yanked open the passenger door and ushered her Inside, his movements hurried but careful. Amara collapsed into the seat, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, the metallic tang of fear still sharp on her tongue.

Zayne slid into the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel, knuckles white. He cast a quick glance at Amara, his eyes softening for a moment as they met hers. “Amara, mi need yuh fi trust mi now. Wi haffi get outta ya. Yuh good?”

She nodded, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her fear. “Yeah… juss drive, Zayne. Please.”

Without another word, he started the engine, the tires skidding on the gravel as they sped out of the parking lot, the glow of the police lights fading behind them. Amara glanced out the back window, the hotel growing smaller in the distance, swallowed by the darkness of the coastal road.

Zayne drove in silence, his focus razor-sharp on the empty highway stretching out before them. The low hum of the engine filled the car, but the tension between them crackled like electricity. Amara stole a glance at his profile, his jaw set in a hard line, and the weight of what they’d just left behind settled heavily in her chest.

“Zayne… wah we ago do?” Her voice broke, barely more than a whisper. “Them ago tink yuh shot him pan purpose. And mi—”

He reached over, grabbing her hand, his grip strong but gentle. “Amara, listen to mi. Mi nah mek nth do yuh, zeen? Wi ago lay low, figa dis out. But yuh haffi trust mi.”

She squeezed his hand, the warmth of his skin grounding her against the chaos of her thoughts. “Mi trust yuh. But mi fraid, Zayne. Mi fraid bout wah go gwaan ya now.”

He nodded, his expression softening as he glanced at her again, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Mi fraid to believe babes. But mi nah mek fear break wi. Wi ago mek it through dis. Together.”

The weight of his words settled into her chest, calming the frantic beat of her heart. She took a shaky breath, nodding as she clung to that promise, even as doubt clawed at the edges of her mind.


They drove for hours, following the winding coastline, the moonlit waves glittering like broken glass beyond the dunes. Eventually, Zayne turned off onto a narrow dirt road that led deeper into the mangroves, hidden from the main highway. The road was rough, the car bumping over roots and rocks, but Amara barely noticed. Her mind was focused on the shadows moving through the trees, on the distant sirens that still echoed in her ears.

The car came to a stop near a rundown motel, its neon sign flickering against the dark sky. Zayne killed the engine, letting the quiet wash over them for a moment before turning to her. “Stay, mi ago get a room. Keep yuh head down, alright?”

Amara nodded, pulling her jacket tighter around her as she watched him disappear into the dimly lit office. The night air was thick with humidity, clinging to her skin, but she barely felt it. Her mind kept replaying the moment in the hotel, the way David’s face had twisted with pain, the look in his eyes as the life drained out of him. A shudder ran through her, and she closed her eyes, trying to push the memory away.

Zayne returned a few minutes later, keys in hand, and they made their way to a room at the back of the lot, far from prying eyes. The motel was old, the paint peeling, the doors creaking, but it was quiet, and right now, that was all that mattered.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Amara sagged against the wall, her legs giving out beneath her. Zayne caught her, pulling her into his arms, and she buried her face in his chest, letting the tears she’d been holding back finally spill over.

“Shh, mi got yuh, Amara.” he murmured against her hair, his arms wrapping around her, holding her like she was something precious. She clung to him, her fingers fisting in his shirt, her sobs shaking through her.

For a long time, they stayed like that, tangled together in the dark, the weight of the night pressing down on them. Eventually, Zayne guided her to the bed, pulling her down beside him, his hands never leaving her.

“Mi ago protect yuh, no matter wah,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “Wi ago figa dis out, Amara. Mi promise.”

She looked up at him, searching his face, and for a moment, the fear eased, replaced by a fierce sense of connection that burned through the darkness. She reached up, brushing a thumb over his cheek, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Mi believe yuh, Zayne. Mi nuh know wah mi would a do widout yuh.”

He cupped her face in his hands, his forehead resting against hers, and she felt the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. “Yuh nuh haffi worry babes. Mi nah lef yuh.”

The tension between them softened, giving way to a desperate, aching tenderness. Amara pulled him down, pressing her lips to his, needing to feel something real, something solid to hold on to. He responded with a hunger that matched her own, his hands sliding over her back, anchoring her to him as if she might slip away.

Their kisses turned frantic, charged with the fear and adrenaline still coursing through their veins, and they lost themselves in each other, seeking comfort in the heat of their bodies, in the way they fit together like puzzle pieces. It was messy, intense, but it felt like the only thing keeping them tethered to reality.

Afterward, they lay tangled together in the darkness, the sound of their breathing mingling with the distant crash of waves against the shore. Amara stared up at the cracked ceiling, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Zayne’s chest, her mind buzzing with everything they’d been through.

But just as she felt herself starting to drift into an uneasy sleep, a sharp knock sounded on the motel room door, making her jolt upright, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Zayne’s body tensed beside her, his hand sliding to the waistband of his jeans where he’d tucked the gun they’d taken from David. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay quiet, and crept toward the door, his movements slow and silent.

Amara held her breath, her hands clutching the sheets, every muscle in her body wound tight as she listened. Her mind raced with possibilities—police, David’s friends, or something worse.

“Who dat?” Zayne called out, his voice steady despite the danger hanging in the air.

A pause, then a low voice replied, barely audible through the door. “Zayne… wi need fi chat, bout wah gwaan a di hotel.”

Amara’s stomach lurched as she recognized the voice—one of Zayne’s old friends from back in Kingston, a man she’d never fully trusted. Zayne exchanged a look with her, his expression hardening. He stepped back, motioning for her to stay behind him as he reached for the doorknob.

As he cracked the door open, the weight of their situation crashed down on Amara like a tidal wave. She realized that their escape from the hotel was only the beginning. Whatever they faced next, it would test them in ways they couldn’t yet imagine. And as the shadows shifted in the doorway, she braced herself for whatever came next, knowing that one wrong move could change everything.