It was a typical day in the city.

As always, stormy grey clouds loomed above the city sky, threatening the residents with another heavy rain shower. The wind had picked up the pace, indicating an oncoming precipitation.

She sighed heavily, looking out of the window, down at the street, praying with all her heart to the Lord above, just let it not rain today.

Since, two days, the weather had been like this; heavy downpour with thunderstorms striking at night. This routine of the weather had rendered Cynthia a prisoner of the rented room she has been living in for past three months, confined among the four walls and consequently, she got nothing eye-catching to publish in the semi-bankrupt newspaper agency, for which she worked as a journalist.

Tying her shoelaces, casually throwing a jacket over her shoulder, she rushed out of the room and then, the building altogether.

London was magnificent, just like everyone who has visited the place back there in Forks said. There was something energizing, something captivating here in the environment which made her fond of this place.

And that was her love for this place, that compelled her to stay here; even grasp any job opportunity for the time being, even if it was not worth her.

She knew she deserved better but she liked the place way too much for her own good. Though, this is something which she realized way too late. Now, she wanted nothing more than to leave. To go back to the place where she had lived all her life, to pursue her career, do something promising. But then again, how will she? She didn't have sufficient money with her to go back. She was legally an adult now, even her vile orphanage was not restricted to take her responsibility.

She was stuck here, and she knew it.

When she stepped into the street in the late hours of the rain doomed morning, just as any another day; today also there was a hustle bustle in the city, people crowded the streets. There was a vibrant buzz all around, for some people chattered among themselves, some people whispered, even shouted on their mobiles. The cars blared their horns as they rushed on the streets.

And as any other day, today also, as the sun disappeared, diving down into the sea of oblivious night, disappearing beyond the horizon, she was upset; disappointed because today too, she had got nothing. Nothing in her hand to actually hand over to the newspaper agency, and to make it worse, she had to, compulsorily submit day after tomorrow, otherwise, the only source of her income will be gone.

Soft, yet cold wind swept past her, making few strands of her wavy brown hair to sway to the inaudible tune of the breeze. Gently, with slow hands, she tucked them behind her ears, sighing in dismay, for now, loss of the job seemed to be inevitable to her. 

As she recapitulated the whole day, she remembered the stories the locals blabbered about some man named Clark; how he raised from poverty to the syndicate of the criminal society, either that or; of course; his vicious deeds.

The former, she thought, was too unexciting to write about that she would rather sleep on an empty stomach for all her life.

The latter was too blood curdling that she would lose her appetite; that way, having a job or not wouldn't really matter much.

It was evening time and she was trudging towards her flat when she suddenly paused. Halted right in front of the art gallery, tempted to go in, though she knew there wasn't much money in her pocket. But the temptation, the desire was too much overbearing, so she soon found herself near the reception, registering her name.

"Your name, please." The receptionist had asked in a baritone voice.

"Cynthia Edwards." She replied in her soft voice.

_______________

The gems studded in the night sky twinkled above her head as she continued her way towards her flat, as she stepped out of the art gallery into the dimly lit streets of London.

The only sound that echoed in the surroundings was off her feet trampling the dead, brown leaves and her own shaky breath.

Walking through the lonely streets of London, Cynthia glanced at her wristwatch, noting it was already ten, and she still had a diligent amount of walk to do, since her flat was at a distance of an hour.

Someone or two passersby's crossed her occasionally but other than that, she was all alone. The wind turned colder as the night darkened dangerously. She cursed herself for giving into temptation, but then again, what good had regretting ever brought to one?

Currently, weeping in her heart about how she was soon going to freeze to death, suddenly her eyes fell upon two figures standing at the corner of the next
turn.

The turn she had to take.

However, mind you, it was not the figures that scared her; rather what one of the duos was doing, shook her to the core.

As she walked a little closer, she saw the two figure with much more clarity. A boy, most probably in his early twenties, was pressed against the wall by a man of burly built. He had pinned him there with one of his hands squeezing his throat roughly while the other hand rested on the wall, next to the boy's head.

She watched on, her blood freezing in sheer fear, as the burly man leaned towards the boy, whispering something in his ear, to which the boy vigorously shook his head.

Unexpectedly, the man suddenly burst into laughter, cackling maniacally. He let go of the boy, resulting in him falling down on the ground as he coughed hysterically. The man laughed for a good one minute, then suddenly he stopped.

And the very next second, a loud gunshot ringed through the surroundings as the boy's lifeless body flopped down on the ground like a heap of paper; thick, scarlet ominous liquid pooling around his cadaver.

Her breath turned shaky as realization dawned on her; the boy has been murdered. It ran through her head in a loop, jumbling her thoughts, taking control of her emotions, hijacking her body and in no time, she let out a terrified scream as her eyes stuck to the body lying flat on the ground.

That, as expected, attracted the man's attention. He whipped his head towards the source of the voice, his hazel eyes meeting the sight of a dainty figure of a sobbing woman.

"Fuck." He hissed in annoyance.

"What the fuck are you doing, Malik?" He heard Louis' voice yell at him through the Bluetooth.

"Nothing. Fuck. Seriously nothing. This bitch just showed up out of nowhere. Send that curly haired ass here. I am not dealing with this shit." He growled.

"Fuck. Alright, mate."

He turned around to make sure she's still there, though, he could not find her. Panicked, he looked around, only to find her running away into a dark alley.

A smirk slowly made it's way on his face, as he whispered, "Game's on." And then, he sprinted after her, just like a lion does after it's prey.

A/N: So here was the first chapter, I hope you liked it. Thoughts on Zayn and Cynthia's character?

Do tell me your thoughts in the comment section :)

Thank you for reading xD