The parking lot

"For fuck's sake," I cursed as I looked out of my car window. "Kylie should be right now." I added as my blue eyes carefully scanned the parking lot, looking for my friend.

After putting on my dress and applying a few shades of make-up, I drove over to the destination that Kylie sent me.

The bitch specifically said that she would be waiting for me in this specific spot, but after driving around it for an entire ten minutes, I still haven't found her.

The only things that I see around here are multi-million-dollar cars and the gaze of the security guard, who has been suspicious of me since I got here.

I mean, I don't blame him.

Who wouldn't be suspicious? I literally look like a thief looking for her next big gig.

Shaking that thought aside, I continued to look out my window for Kylie.

I swear to God—I'm going to murder that bitch once I see her. I could have finished an entire episode of Outer Banks if she hadn't stupidly asked me to come here and not show up.

"Where are you, Kylie?" I murmured under my breath as I rolled down my car window to get a better look at my surroundings.

As soon as I did that, the cold autumn air immediately approached my pale skin.

Although I only opened my window, I felt the chill breeze roam my entire body. I didn't bothered putting on any coat or jacket with me when I left, so it's my fault that I'm currently shivering to death.

As I adjusted my car window a little to lessen my chances of getting hypothermia, I saw a man walking in the distance.

I have no idea where he came from, but as he walked closer and closer to where my car is parked, I could make out that he was clearly pissed. He was muttering profanities and shouting curses. Heck, I could even hear him kicking objects outside.

I just wondered what kind of shit had gotten him this mad.

I couldn't really make out how he looked since the lights were dim, but his voice is completely familiar to me.

And as soon as he walked past me, he wasn't just familiar.

I knew him.

"Zayn!" I called out, making him turn around in an instant.

"Monroe?" He spoke with confusion clearly evident in his voice.

His face was an ink of red, and I'm guessing that it was because of the coldness of the breeze and his outrage.

Smiling to myself, I hopped out of my vehicle and made my way to him. I could tell that he wasn't that happy to see me, but he didn't walked away.

Well— not yet.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I refused to start my conversation like a good lassie.

Screw etiquette.

Everybody has an inner bitch anyway.

"I should be asking you the same question," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Although I only spent like an hour with Maya earlier, I'm certain that she's a perfect female example of her father. The amount of sass that he's showing me right now depicts how Maya would respond to a similar situation.

I just wouldn't be there to see her in those similar situations.

"Hey, I get it. You're pissed," I said. "Just don't take it out on me, honey." I winked.

He scrunched his face in disgust at that.

The bastard.

"I'm not in the mood, okay?" He spoke, putting his hands up in the air. "I'm leaving." He added before turning his back on me and walking away.

It's impossible for him to be pregnant since he was a male, but here he is with his mood swing anyway

"Oh, come on, Zayny," I cooed just to annoy him even more. "What's the fun in that?" I added before running after him in my heels.

This is my least favorite thing to do.

But I couldn't just hop in my car to catch up with him within a walking distance.

That would just mean that my legs are too short to catch up with him.

"Just leave me alone, Sabrina," he said seriously. "I fired you. I'm not going to change my decision." He added as he continued to walk with that fast pace.

"That is not why I'm going after you, shitface," I said once I finally caught up to him. "I just want to know if you're from that charity party. I know it's none of my business and all, but I'm a nosy bitch. Just tell me." I added.

He rolled his eyes at that.

"You want to know where I came from? Fine! I'm from that stupid charity party," he said, totally annoyed. "And I'm leaving because that dickhead named Mike Henderson is there." He added while he kicked a random rock angrily, which was sent flying into the air to the darkness of the night.

When he mentioned Mike Henderson's name, I quickly understood his rage.

That son of a bitch still owes me.

"Oh, so you hate him too?" I asked, keeping up the conversation with him.

As soon as I said that, he immediately stopped walking.

And so I stopped as well.

"What do you mean "too"?" He asked looking at me.

"Don't get me started, Zayn," I said, letting out a deep breath. "We both know that everybody hates that bastard." I added before I started walking again.

A few seconds passed, and he's still not going after me.

God, I probably look like a nuthead walking to a none-specific destination right now.

"So generally, you hate him too?" He asked even though I didn't hear him move from his previous position.

"Obviously," I answered, quite relieve that he's still there.

Now, we were in the middle of a parking lot with a suspicious guard around.

It's true that the lights were dim, but we were still near the road and there's literally a party with loud music and many people just a few blocks from where we are.

All of those aspects are enough to give me assurance that I will be just fine.

But when Zayn suddenly ran after me, I was concerned. I mean, I pissed him off a lot of times today, and being the son of a secret murderer, it wouldn't be a surprise to me if I was found dead somewhere here tomorrow.

My concern only leveled up when Zayn literally grabbed me by the wrist and started dragging me towards the black Porsche that I suppose is his car.

I have nothing to live for, but I still want to make Maxwell Harold suffer.

Revenge first, die later.

And with that in mind, I immediately swung my free hand and hit Zayn in the face.

Yeah, it hurt.

"Son of a—" He cursed as he let go of my wrist to touch his sculpted face. "What the fuck was that for?" He asked as if it was in humanity's norm to drag people into your car in a random parking lot.

"Was that supposed to be sarcastic?" I returned the question to him.

"You can't just punch people in the face," he groaned. "I'm not going to do anything to you, alright? I just want to do something with you." He added looking at me up and down.

I scoffed at that.

"You're full of mixed signals," I spat. "I thought you weren't in the mood." I added.

Despite the obvious pain that he was feeling, Zayn managed to let out a laugh after I said that.

a genuine laugh.

"You're hot, but I'm not referring to that," he said, making me want to sink in a hole and die out of embarrassment.

You assuming bitch. You assuming, assuming bitch.

"I just thought that maybe it would be a fun idea to go after Mike Henderson." He added leaning back on the black Porsche with his arms crossed over his chest.

Since my parents died, I never really thought about the consequences.

I would do every reckless thing that I could think of without the gut feeling of worry that I might get in trouble for it.

And that's exactly why I grinned mischievously after Zayn said that.

As I walked to the other side of the car, Zayn got in and unlocked the door for me. Once the both of us were in place, Zayn looked at me problematically.

Even if he wasn't saying a word, I know that he was mentally thinking about what we should do next.

It's obvious that he's eager to do this revenge crusade, but it's also clear that he doesn't have a plan yet.

Fortunately for him, Sabrina Monroe is here.

An A+ bad bitch with a bachelor's degree in sabotaging people's lives

"Drive to target," I ordered, giving him a sideways look. "We're getting spray paints."