Bitter Retreat

Bitter Retreat
\-Hartman-

I sat in the gardens of my house, legs crossed casual, waiting for the news of Blake's downfall to reach me quick.

Wanted to take it in and celebrate one step closer to full redemption. Gates creaked open slow, my men marching into the compound, steps heavy on the path.

I watched them come straight toward me, their faces tight, nothing good showing there. Why this look?

"Has it been done?" I asked the leader of the rogues I sent, voice sharp. He shifted weight, frustration clear.

"We almost got things done, but the police showed up and started shooting at us in the open." His words hit wrong, anger rising fast in my chest.

Almost? Police? "So you mean you couldn't handle some small amounts of police officers?

I wouldn't even be mad if you told me Blake himself stopped you and not the police!" I yelled at them, standing up quick, pointing hard. They flinched back slight, leader explaining more.

"How did the police get to know about the operation?" I demanded, hands on hips.

"We don't know, but I sensed someone must have called them and fighting them in an open area would be a disadvantage to us. They will possibly outnumber us."

His reason sounded weak, but true enough to cool my yell a bit. Something felt off deep.

Police knowing the exact moment, place and possibly what we wanted to do? I sensed someone from the inside had played me bad.

How did they know to come there? Frustration boiled high, pissed off turning my face red.

"You and your men will have to stay hidden again. We can't afford the police snooping around us at this point in time," I ordered, turning away angry, heading back into my chamber with long strides.

Door slammed shut behind me, alone now, anger not just for the failed operation. Blake would have found out some men chased him hard.

He would definitely had sensed that they are rogues and it might just make things a bit better for me.

I had an altercation with him and he might be forced to think in my direction, but I believe he has no proof for that yet.

Just hoped he won't get to know I stood behind the whole thing. Grabbed my phone quick from the table, dialing Sofia fast, needing her voice to steady me.

She picked up right away. "Hello father, has it been done?" Sofia asked over the phone, tone cautious, worry lacing every word.

"No, they were unable to get him, but we will stick to the plan of the girl for tomorrow," I explained, pacing the room again.

She stayed quiet brief, then I added more. "We will change her script into something else and make sure she looks very stupid and incompetent." Wanted her clear on that, voice firm.

"So how do I handle Blake now?" Sofia asked, sounding scared, voice small. Poor girl, pressure too much sometimes.

"You have to relax and act normal with him. You didn't do anything wrong, you were just unable to make the dinner, that's all," I said to Sofia, trying to calm her down, tone soft now.

She breathed out relief. "Alright father. I will try my best to handle him." Her effort touched me, but she needed more push.

"You don't need to try my love, I believe in you and I'm very sure you will do just fine," I said to her with a reassuring voice, ending the call gentle.

Phone back on table, I stopped pacing, staring at the wall hard. Failed attack stung bad, but tomorrow fixed it all.

I was more than determined to get the Hunter girl out of the way and the earlier I do it, the better for my redemption plan.

Matilda's show crashed public, her face red with shame, career done quick. Blake's flagship? Gone in one bad night.

Sponsors fled fast, network scrambling, my buyout easy after. Sofia played sweet at home, probing him slow, truth serum ready for next meal.

Rogues hid now, but struck again soon, smarter places, no police mess. Harrison? Fed more tips on her, hunter blood linked to attacks, headlines screaming danger.

★★★

\-Matilda-

I woke up in the morning and picked up my phone right away to call Blake, worry still clinging from last night's vision.

He answered quicker than I expected, his voice coming through clear and strong. Gladness washed over me instant.

"Good morning Blake, how are you doing?" I asked, concern thick in my tone.

"I'm doing great. Trust you slept good," Blake said, his words smoothing every tense nerve.

"Yeah, I did. Just called to check up on you," I replied calm.

"Thank you, I will see you later at work," he said, ending the call gentle. At least he's alright.

His voice worked like therapy, easing me full. I got up quick and headed straight to the bathroom for a morning bath, water running warm over my skin.

In no time, I finished preparing and stepped out of my apartment, bag slung over shoulder.

At SCN, I walked to the news room, show setup buzzing already. Headed to makeup next, sitting still as brushes swept my face light.

An intern approached quick, asking for the script. I handed it over smooth, knowing MCR needed it fast to scroll on screen while I presented.

Minutes later, makeup done, I met Ruby outside, both leaving for the studio together, steps synced.

Ten minutes to airtime. First show of its kind. Anticipation built high over days, people glued to televisions for this reality program.

As I flipped through my hardcopy quick, studio door opened sudden. Director Quinn walked toward me direct. "Good, I believe you are ready to give me the greatest show today!" he said, excitement bursting odd.

He's never excited like this, especially not toward me. Why now? I nodded affirmation, words caught brief. Countdown hit three minutes. Blake walked into the studio calm.

"McAllister what are you doing here?" Director Quinn asked sharp. "I am here to make sure everything goes right," Blake said, bold ice-cold look on his face.

"How do you intend to do that?" Director Quinn pressed.

"By changing her script right now!"