Mila allowed Zayn to tie her hair back, out of her face. Luckily, she'd had a hair tie around her wrist that he used to secure it in place. He'd told her that 'seeing is just as important as moving'.

Then he'd pushed a gun into her hands.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked before thrusting it back into his clutch. "You can't give me a weapon like that!"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Well, I'd give you one of my trainers, but they're at the cleaners!" he snapped before pulling out one of the knives from his belt. "Would you rather have one of my knives?"

"No!" Mila gasped. "I'd prefer it you were the one to shoot and - possibly - kill people. I can't go to jail! I'm only twenty-two for Christ sake!"

"Really? You only look like eighteen," he said, squinting at her. Mila had been told many times that she looked like a teenager as opposed to an adult of twenty-two. She'd always found it annoying when it came to situations such as going to the pub and trying to buy alcohol, especially when the bartender had to ask for ID. Eddie often called her 'kid' just to tease her and even Joanna liked to make fun of her shortness.

"I'm flattered," mumbled Mila. She glanced down at her shredded skirt and frowned. "Joanna bought me that."

"Who's Joanna?" Zayn asked, peeking around the side of the door once again. It had been quiet in the carriage ever since he had shot the man down the corridor. Mila still couldn't quite believe the situation she had been dragged into.

"One of my roommates," Mila said.

"You have more than one? How the hell do you cope?"

"Quite easily," Mila answered honestly, leaving out the part about walking in on the aftermath of a heated night between the pair. "Eddie and Joanna are a couple, so they share a room. We all work things out between us, so it's all good."

"We spies have to live alone." Zayn's voice was toneless. "We can't put more than one of us in danger at a time outside of work. If more than one of us were living together and someone were to attack, the Association would be at risk of losing not one but maybe two spies. It's hard to find more people that will commit themselves to this lifestyle."

Mila listened to him carefully as she tried to shuffle the skirt down a little further. So much skin, she worried, frowning at her tiny legs.

"Did you choose this life? Is your family OK with it?" she asked.

Zayn turned to her with a sombre look. He suddenly looked thinner, as if the life-force had been unexpectedly drained from him. "I had no choice but to join the Association. My parents were ex spies. Ex spies with a lot of enemies. They were killed while I was being looked after by my grandparents for the weekend. I was handed to the Association to train and track down the bastards that murdered my family."

Mila was speechless. She hated it when she accidentally managed to slide the conversation into the path of privacy, especially if there was some tragedy to be told. She felt her self cringe at her stupidity. "I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have asked if I'd known."

"It's alright," Zayn said, much to Mila's surprise. "I'm not usually asked about my real life. It's usually about my spy life and what sort of guns I like to use ... or how may people have I killed in the past. I haven't spoken about my family for a good few years."

"Sorry for bringing it up though," Mila mumbled. "I can't even imagine being in a situation like that."

"Yeah..." the spy trailed off, giving her a small smile. "Now, stay focused. We need to make it to the end of the train. If we can work our way down one end and get rid of as many of the suspects as possible-"

"'Get rid of'?" Mila said. "You mean murder?"

Zayn just sighed and turned to face her once again. He took one of her hands in his and placed the gun back in it, closing her fingers around the metal object. She paled as she looked at the weapon. He's insane, she thought.

"This could end up badly - you plus a gun, but you'll need something to protect yourself with from a distance. I don't want to see a shoe flying through the air and knocking someone out again. Use the gun if you have to, OK?" he said, looking her dead in the eye. She slowly nodded, her heart racing as he gave her a sharp nod and turned away.

"I've never used a gun before," she whispered, holding it the way she'd seen people in movies holding them. The object felt foreign in her hands and she shuddered, realizing how much more powerful she felt by simply holding it.

"You just aim and fire." He moved her finger to rest over the trigger. "Aim, pull this and boom, you've shot a bloke in the chest. Easy."

"Easy?" she scoffed. "Is 'shooting people' on your everyday to-do list?"

"It's my job," he told her again. With one final glance around the side of the compartment door, Zayn gestured for Mila to follow him until they safely made it into the next one. There seemed to be no other people on the carriage besides them and the dead body further up.

"I still can't believe you killed someone," Mila said to Zayn as he continued to walk in front of her quietly. She watched his every movements, noticing the way he almost glided across the floor like a ghost. His light footing was completely different from Mila's louder footsteps.

As they crept further down the carriage, Mila only had time to shout "Move!" before another man dressed in black stepped out from one of the compartments and fired his gun. The bullet whistled past Mila's head and she instantly tried to crouch down, out of harm's way. Zayn pushed her to the side and she slammed into the closed doors of the closest compartment. Her head throbbed momentarily before the pain ceased.

"Zayn!" she shrieked when he suddenly dropped to the ground before her. For a moment, she thought he had been hit, but she was wrong: he rolled forward at such a speed that he became a blur and Mila winced when his foot kicked out at the man in his most private area.

"You bastard!" groaned the man as he fell to his knees, the gun falling to the ground. "Fucking cu-"

Zayn's foot collided with the man's face, sending him flying backwards, unconscious to the ground.

"Are you OK?" Zayn asked, standing. Mila straightened and nodded.

"Yep," she muttered, unsure. Was she OK? Was being in this situation OK?

"Good," Zayn said, taking her arm and leading her forward. He scooped up the man's gun as they made it to the end of the carriage. Mila tried to ignore the two bodies below her: the unconscious and the dead. As soon as Zayn opened the door and led her outside, she could finally breathe in and out again.

Once again, Zayn helped Mila to cross the gap outside, her ponytail whipping wildly around her face.

"So what exactly are we trying to do here?" Mila questioned when Zayn slowly opened the other carriage door and stepped inside. She followed close after him, eyes scanning frantically for more villians on the train. Her mouth fell open however, when seeing the two unconcsious bodies already lying on the ground, bound by ropes. "What the hell?"

Zayn chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Mila questioned when noticing the genuine humour in his eyes.

"Remember when I said I wasn't alone on this mission? This was one of my mates. He always thinks tying up the idiots will keep them down."

"So, who's this we're talking about?" Mila questioned, looking around.

"He's called Harry," Zayn said. "He's a daft bugger."

"So, how many of you are there?"

"Five. Harry, Louis, Niall, Liam and myself." Zayn's head suddenly snapped to the side to view the closed compartment door to their left. One of Zayn's large hands reached out and slid open the door.

A gun was instantly pointed at Zayn's head and Mila instinctively scrambled with the gun that had been handed to her. Without thinking about what she was going to do, she tried her best to aim the gun.

And fired.

"Oh, fuck!" screamed a masculine voice from inside the compartment. Something heavy hit the ground and Mila saw the gun he had been holding, lying on the floor by her feet. Mila's eyes widened when realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

I just shot someone...

"Oh my God-" she began to whimper but Zayn cut her off by shoving her roughly inside, next to the man she had shot. "Oh, my God!"

"You stupid fucking woman!" cried the man who had collapsed onto the bench, hugging his foot close to his chest. "You fucking shot me! My bloody foot! Fuck, that hurts!"

"Mila, what the fuck?!" Zayn bellowed suddenly, causing her to jump.

"I-I saw a gun being pointed at you!" she panicked. "I just saved your life!"

"He wasn't going to shoot me!" Zayn sighed, running his hands over his face. "Christ sake."

"My fucking foot!" screamed the man on the bench. Mila looked him over from his shaggy, brown hair, sprinkling of facial hair and lean build. He didn't look as tough as the previous villains they had encountered but Mila was still unsure as he glared at her.

"How can you be so sure of that?" Mila asked, her hands shaking around the gun she still held. "He was pointing the gun at you-"

"Mila!" Zayn groaned, gesturing at the man she had injured. "This is Louis! He's one of my colleagues!"

Mila stared at him, dumbfounded. Her eyes darted between the two men for a moment before she felt guilt rush through her being.

"Your colleague?" she muttered, looking apologetically at the man she had just shot. "You're friends?"

"Yes!" huffed Louis, sitting up straighter. "God, why the hell have you got a gun anyway?!"

Zayn cleared his throat awkwardly and snatched the weapon from Mila, stuffing it into his belt once again. Mila scowled at him and shuffled her feet awkwardly as Louis tried to stand. He hissed in pain and stumbled, leaning onto Zayn for support.

"Where the hell did you find this chick?" he asked, jerking his thumb in Mila's direction. "I thought the train was clear?"

"Yes, we all thought that, Louis," Zayn said as he helped the smaller man to sit down again. "You were in charge of making sure all the tickets were diverted to another train. You're the reason she's stuck on here with us."

"Hey," protested Mila. "Don't sound so horrible. I've already saved your life a couple of times."

Louis raised at her comment. "That true? No one's saved your arse for ages, mate."

"Shut it," grumbled Zayn. "Keep still, I think the bullet is still in your foot."

"Hmph," Louis snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised." He glanced up at Mila.

"I'm sorry," she said, a blush forming on her cheeks. "It was an accident-"

"Sure, sure," Louis said over the top of her, wincing as Zayn tugged his boot off and inspected the injury on his foot. The gouge in his skin was small and round but bleeding drastically. Mila's eyes widened as she digested the image before her.

She leaned down and picked out one of the knives from Zayn's belt.

"Hoy! You watch it with that," Louis began, eyeing the weapon in her hand. "If you're bad with a gun, you'll be bad with a knife."

Mila ignored him as she set to work - she unbuttoned the cuff of her blouse and used the knife to tear off a strip of the white material. The sleeve hung loosely around her elbow as she used the torn fabric as an improvised bandage.

"Is there a way you can get the bullet out?" she asked Zayn as he inspected his friend's foot.

"With difficulty," he mumbled before gently tapping around the wound with his finger. Louis hissed in pain several times. "Are you gonna be quiet if I try to pull it out?"

Louis laughed sarcastically. "There is a chance I may scream."

Zayn gave him a look that almost said 'be prepared' before his fingers started poking in and out of the bloody hole. Mila offered Louis her hand to squeeze but he rudely slapped it away and tried to cram his fist into his mouth. A good five minutes later and Zayn's hands were covered in blood, a small chunk of metal in the centre of his left palm.

"Fuck," Louis sighed. Mila instantly went to wrap the fabric around the wound, and she noticed both of the men watching her every move carefully. She wrapped the white material around the wound as many times as possible before securing it in place with a knot.

"That should stop it from getting infected," she said, looking up into Louis' surprised eyes. "Until you get to a doctor."

"She's a nurse-in-training," Zayn informed Louis who experimentally wiggled his toes. He winced as he slid his boot back on and took a step forward. He limped slightly but still managed to remain on his feet.

"Yeah," Louis said, looking Mila over before raising a brow. "Maybe you should train her how to handle a damn gun?"

So FOUR is incredible :')

I think everyone should check out my best friend @amandaJtommo 's fantastic story The Prince! It's honeslty so well written, and so romantic and cute (plus a few dirty scenes *wink*)

Let me know what you think in the comments? >.<

Cazza