꧁༒༻༺༒꧂꧁༒༻༺༒꧂
༺Chapter 6 - The Breaking Point༻
꧁༒༻༺༒꧂꧁༒༻༺༒꧂
Zayne harshly pushed masha away masha stumbled on tile…
The motorcycle's roaring engine filled the air as Priya sped away, her long hair flying behind her like a dark flame. Zayne stood still as he watched her disappear into the chaotic city streets of Delhi, the sound of the bike slowly fading. Something twisted in Zayne's chest. It was an ache, a pull—something Zayne had not yet become familiar with. Priya didn't have the chance to acknowledge him properly before she left. She didn't even look at him twice.
She didn't like him.
The realisation sat heavy on his chest, heavier than the gun weighted along his hip, stereotypically, heavier than the hundreds of deaths that he had collected on a more personal level.
A smug, feminie voice broke through his moment of contemplation.
"See? Indian bitch doesn't like you."
Zayne barely had the presence to combat Masha's legs curled around his torso from behind, her body pressed tightly to his, her perfume was sickeningly sweet and nauseous in the warm air of Delhi.
He tensed immediately.
"Might have jealousy issues," Masha continued, and in her voice was a humourless sneer. "I guess you know how Indian women are—always so—"
Cruelly, condescendingly, it was the same kind of arrogance that tested Zayne's patience; it felt like fingernails on a chalkboard.
He yanked her arms off him, thrashing her away, his face twisting in pure disgust.
"Shut the fuck up, Masha."
His voice was flat and cold, as sharp as a knife. His Russian accent thickened with grounded fury. His perfected jaw clenched; hands in fists at his side.
Masha's eyes widened, but they rolled back into her head like a brat throwing a tantrum. "What? You mad she didn't pay you any attention?" She scoffed, flipping her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder.
"You don't know a thing about Indian women. Or Priya."
The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, but he had no regrets.
Because it was true.
Masha knew nothing about Priya.
She didn't know about the way she had cozied a stray dog into her arms and whispered Hindi sweet nothings into its floppy ears as if it were the world's most precious living thing. She didn't know about the fire that burned in Priya's eye as she spoke, or how she handled a gun with measured confidence.
She didn't know that Priya was the first person in years who had looked at him like a normal man instead of a monster.
Masha's lips twisted in some amusement. "Oh daddy--" she purred, stepping closer yet again. "You think she's some angel? Maybe she fucks her officers--"
That was it.
Zayne's patience snapped like a weak thread pulled too tight.
His hand shot out, like an arrow, and grabbed Masha by the wrist in a grip like a vise. She gasped as pulled against him, her manicured claws dug into his forearm in a vain effort to get free.
"Say another word about priya, and I swear to fuck-- "
His voice had turned dangerously low, like a simmering cauldron, lethal. His dark eyes bore down on hers, promising violence that danced in the deep creases of his eyes.
Masha gulped, but she didn't stop.
Instead, she changed her tactic, her lips curling in a smirk. "Oh, Daddy daddy, don't be angry." The sweetness dripped from her voice as she leaned against him and pressed her body into him.
Zayne did not move. Instead, he glared at her with a look of disdain.
"I love you, Daddy daddy," she cooed, her hands tracing down his chest.
He glared even more.
"I love you, and I'm your sugar baby," Masha vowed, squirming in his direction like a constrictor wrapping his prey. "Russian women treat their men better—"
Zayne did not respond. His mind was wandering.
Wandering to another woman. A woman who didn't haul herself on top of him. A woman who wanted him but did not want to possess him.
Masha felt hesitation and saw an opportunity. She grinned, wagging her legs a little and even pressing part of her thigh against his.
"You know what they say about Indian women?'' she mused, showing amusement.
Zayne didn't respond. His eyes would not thaw.
Masha took it as encouragement.
"They have hairy arms."
Zayne tightened his jaw even more.
"They cook too much."
His fingers jerked at his sides.
"They're too dark." A vein in his temple throbbed.
"They have small tits." Facial creases danced around Masha's eyes.
"No man likes them." Zayne's body froze.
Completely.
A suffocating silence filled the room.
Then - she said it. The last nail in the coffin.
"They have black clits."
As soon as the words left her lips, she barely had time to contemplate her mistake -
BAM!
Zayne's fist struck the wall beside her head. The walls shook with the impact. Masha yelped and jumped back in fright. Her smirk transformed into a face of pure terror in that instant.
"ENOUGH."
His roar was deafening and echoed throughout the room, his furiousness able to light whole cities on fire.
Masha shook. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had never seen him like that.
His chest rumbled with uncontrollable anger, and his dark eyes blazed with heat like the fire that avoided rain.
Zayne turned his head slowly, and trained his deadly stare on her.
"Listen to me carefully, you ignorant bitch." His voice was low now, the low that sends shivers down backs. "Indian women are beautiful, strong, and too good for racist cunts like you."
Masha's breath caught.
She had gone too far.
She tried to fix it, scrambling to fix the horrible mistake she had just made. "B-but I'm your sugar baby!" She stammered. Reaching for him again, "Zayne I love you! Please—"
His lips curled disgustedly.
"Get… the fuck… out."
His voice was eerily calm. Dangerous. Finite.
Masha froze.
For the first time she comprehended something.
He didn't want her.
Not anymore.
Not after her mouth ruined everything.
His next words discarded her completely.
"I meant every fucking word." His gaze was all ice. "You're no more than a racist whore. And I am done paying for your stupid mouth."
Masha let out a broken gasp as the world began to crumble around her.
She knew that this was it.
Her hands shook as she turned away, heels tapping weakly on the marble floor.
She paused at the door, looking back one final time.
But Zayne was not looking at her.
He had already turned away.
She had lost.
Masha's breath caught in her throat as she opened the door and stepped out onto the street.
꧁༒༻༺༒꧂ ꧁༒༻༺༒꧂
༶•┈┈┈༓༓༓༓༓༓༓༓༓┈┈┈•༶
༺ To be continued… ༻
꧁༒༻༺༒꧂꧂༒༻༺༒꧂
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