"Emma, it's two in the morning—"
"I don't care!" Her voice grew louder, full of desperation. "Zayn, please. I need to go home. I have to see my dad. Please take me. Please."
She was crying harder now, holding onto his shirt and shaking.
Zayn had never seen her like this, panicked, scared, totally convinced something was wrong.
He made up his mind.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. But first, let me make a quick call. Just to check if everything's alright. Do you think you can do that?"
Emma paused, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, call him. Call my dad."
"I'll call someone who can check on him," Zayn said carefully. "Just hang tight here, okay?"
He got up, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and headed to the balcony.
He slid the glass door open and stepped outside, closing it behind him so Emma wouldn't hear.
The ocean breeze felt cool, salty, and fresh.
Zayn took a deep breath.
Then he made the call.
Zayden picked up on the first ring.
"Yes, Zayn?"
