My Stepbrother - Zarry

Vulnerable - 17

A/N: The following content contains violence, and if you are uncomfortable with it, I recommend that you skip this chapter.

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Zayn's P.O.V

I squeezed my eyes shut as a lightning of pain travelled through me.

I put my hand over the bullet wound and brought it back to have it completely drenched in blood. I whimpered as my eyes travelled over the tall frame of the man who just shot me.

His eyes showed no emotion, sympathy, nor pity. Well, what did I expect? Him to drop down to his knees and apologise? Both of us are trained gangsters. This is what we're supposed to do.

I, however, hadn't made use of my training. I was a fool to fall for such an old and simple trick.

"Act like you're weak. It gives the opponent a burst of confidence, making you look like an easy target. When he is at the peak of winning, that, that is when you show your might."

Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. Every second passed like an hour.

I tried to locate the wound. The bullet had hit me in the torso, where all the vital organs exist. I tried to feel around a bit more, calming down when I realised that it was more towards the side rather than the middle.

That meant that I had a pretty good chance of survival, but that would only be possible if I could prevent the blood loss, and I had to be quick since there was already a pool of blood on the floor.

My hands traced over the blades in my boots. I could use the gun but that would double the damage: it would give them the signal that there was a response to the bullet, which meant that I was alive, so I had to be quiet.

I was hunched over as I pulled out two blades, looking as if I would fall unconscious any second. He believed the act, snorting at my weakness.

I took the strike and thrusted the blade into the flesh of his thigh. He groaned in displeasure as the attack was extremely unexpected. Well what do you know? He was played by his own tricks.

He fell to the floor and I was quick to shove another blade into the centre of his throat, ignoring the sparks of excruciating pain that flew through me with every movement.

He fell to the floor, knocked out cold.

After I was satisfied, I pressed a hand to the wound that was continually dispersing blood and began looking for a safer place to sit down.

I took support of the drainpipes to get up, but only after four tries. It was getting hard to move at this point, so I stopped beside a wooden door. It looked like a small souvenir shop, which meant that there wouldn't be any tough security to go through.

I braced my body to face the ache of the kick. I dragged my foot backwards, closed my eyes and kicked the door knob.

The pain that I felt from that was indescribable. I harshly bit down on my lips and covered my mouth to prevent myself from screaming. I could hear the footsteps of men coming closer, and my body tensed up. My eyes watered as I did another kick, the pain of this one being twice as much. The door seemed to weaken.

Just one more, Zayn.

I let out a breath I was holding as the door was kicked open. I quickly made my way inside and closed the door behind me as I collapsed behind the counter.