Chapter 20: 14| Weapon

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Weapon ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ : Weapon (Tristan's POV) I was done being a spectator the moment she hit the dance floor with that guy. Opening the door, I made my way downstairs and as people stepped aside to make room, I took a seat at the bar. "Whiskey," I ordered, keeping my eyes on her from across the bar as she danced and swayed with him. My jaw ticked as I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip, feeling the drink burn on its way down my throat. Minutes passed and I remained seated. Setting my glass down, I tapped against the edge, a faint clink reaching my ears every time my ring hit the glass. Is she trying to die tonight? She wasn't talking to him as they danced save for trivial conversations. If she was asking questions about Ambrose, he wouldn't be grinning like a kid in a candy store and that was exactly how he looked at that moment; he looked like the happiest man in the world with the privilege of dancing with Amara Milano. I could hate her and still admit it. There was no other woman like her, no other woman so powerful and so fucking lethal. Power and danger dripped from every inch of her, every move she made, every sway of her hips acted like a drop of poison. Amara was like the fucking forbidden fruit. Tempting, so very tempting. But take a bite out of it and it'll kill you. So I took bites out of her in other ways. In ways that riled her up. But it was time our games came to an end. I had a job to do. I had to kill her. My eyes raked over as I sipped my drink. She had a short, gold-beige dress on that stopped a little short of mid-thigh with gold Swarovski rhinestones lining up every inch of the goddamn dress. Two dainty little straps held the jeweled dress up. From head to toe, little sparkles of gold glitter were dusted over her body and when you looked at the dress, all you could see were the rhinestones, the slip dress beneath it completely concealed by the diamonds. I set my empty glass down as they made their way to the exit. With a quick glance at the men sitting behind me who hadn't noticed them leave yet, I rose to my feet and beckoned the waiter over, handing him a bill and then heading out. I maintained a safe distance, observing her from afar. There was no way she was here by coincidence and chose this idiot to dance with. I lingered outside the alleyway for a few minutes after they slipped inside but I continued walking closer until they were in earshot. "That's all I know," the guy confirmed, letting out a slightly shaky breath. "You're good at hiding your fear," she told him. "Go," she demanded. I stopped at the car just before the alleyway and leaned against the hood, listening in. It surprised me to see that she was letting him go. "Keep your promise," he scoffed in annoyance. "You want to kiss me that badly, Mr. Jay?" she teased. I glanced down the alleyway, making out where they stood. "You're not bad," she told him, "I guess I'll give you a kiss." I pushed off the car to do what, I didn't fucking know, but I stayed in place as the remaining three men from the table marched over, interrupting them. I stayed in place with pure rage coursing through my veins. Rooted in place, I watched everything unfold, including her little stunt with that guy. I never expected Amara to kiss her victims goodbye before she slit their throats but as it turned out, this one was getting away. If he's so unlucky as to ever run into me, I can assure you, he won't be fucking walking out alive. He put his hands on what's mine. Moving to the passenger door, I folded my arms across my chest and crossed my ankles, watching the show. It irked me to see that man lay his hands on her. I almost didn't know what fucked me up more, the sight of her kissing that guy, or this man thinking he could get away with leaving wounds and bruises on her body. Truth be told, I hadn't seen Amara kill a lot of people with such little hesitation. The last time I saw it was at the warehouse we went to with Rhys when he needed us. Amara didn't think twice before cutting the throats and stabbing the chests of the men who got in her way. She preached her morality in a courtroom but this was the first time I saw her killing people for her own case. Every time she did it in the past it was to help somebody, to save somebody. Something is different about her tonight. She took hits tonight, undoubtedly, she did. Every nerve in my body was screaming at me to go help her. I fucking hated watching those men lay their hands on her, thinking they had the right to hit her, to attack her like that. Amara struggled much more with the second man, perhaps it was because she was starting to lose breath and her wounds were starting to ache. Tilting my head to one side as I traced my bottom lip with my thumb, I watched the guy I learned was named Jay. Fucking pathetic. If he wanted to help her, he would but all he could do was stand beside his boss and watch. Even though a part of me wanted to help her, the part of me that wanted to test her tonight was much greater. If she was truly capable of killing someone, dealing with her might be harder than I anticipated. She let out a scream as the man put a hand around her throat, smashing her head against the wall, his hold tightening. Yelling more in anger and frustration than pain, she dug her heels into his foot, pushing back until she shoved him against the wall, delivering a few solid punches to his nose and jaw. She did enough to have him shouting in pain while she picked her knife off the floor and stabbed him once in the side before cutting straight across his throat. My brows twitched up in surprise. I watched as Jay was dragged into their car by his boss, speeding away. It wasn't until she was left alone that she screamed in pain, clutching her side as she lost her balance and slumped against the wall, her knees giving out. Minutes passed. She sat there for a while, catching her breath and regaining her senses. She kicked the lifeless body at her feet and groaned loudly in anger before rising on shaky legs, her knife still in hand. Stumbling against the wall, she walked out of the alleyway alive while the men who attacked her lay dead inside. Laughing humorlessly, she stopped right in front of me. "Did you like the show, Mr. Harper?" I couldn't help but allow my gaze to rake over her. Over the mess her hair had become, the blood dripping from a cut at her temple and then another at her cheek, another cut at the corner of her bottom lip. Scratches ran across her leg, arm, and shoulders with a tear in her dress, exposing the slash running across her side. He cut her. The knife clattered from her hands as she stepped forward but lost her balance immediately, falling into me. "Tell me. Did you like watching me struggle? You didn't even bother to help, you must have enjoyed watching, huh?" I remained quiet, staring down at her. She leaned into me further, shoving me against the car with her hands on my chest, the blood staining and seeping through my shirt. "I thought you liked your possessions unharmed. I thought only you get to wound me, only you get to hunt me down." She scoffed before chuckling dryly as she shook her head. "I thought you were a man of your word, Mr. Harper." My gaze drifted down to the gash at her side. "Does it hurt?" I asked. She glared up at me and let out a sharp breath. "You could have helped." "I wanted to watch you," I replied, "I wanted to see what you were capable of. I'm not obligated to help you out, Malyshka." "Don't lie, Mr. Harper. It's too late for you to act like you wouldn't care if someone else got the pleasure of killing me before you did," she snickered. Her weapon was always a knife and she would always wield it with such power, it could make any man tremble. She stared back at me with such defiance in her eyes that it made my blood rush. "I can kill someone just as easily as you can, Mr. Harper. Don't underestimate me. If you're out for my blood then I'm out for yours. Do you understand?" she questioned, grabbing a fistful of my shirt. "Do you understand, Tristan Harper?" she bit out sharply. She was fucking furious. "Hmm," I responded, nodding once. Sighing in defeat, she moved back and glanced at her side and the blood soaking through her dress, tainting her hands. "Drive me home," she demanded, "or to a hospital. Whatever comes first." My eyes dropped to the knife on the ground and I swept it up without her noticing. "Wait here," I told her, "I'll bring the car." I would drive her home, I would even tend to her fucking wounds if she needed me to. But that didn't mean I wouldn't make it hurt. There was no room in my life for me to care for Amara. There was a time when I did and it wasn't just when we were friends. When Amara was my attorney, a part of me expected us to reconcile but the way she left told me she didn't want that. The only feelings I felt for Amara were pure hatred, the kind that burned so brightly and intensely inside of me that I would lose my senses around her. But nothing, not even that hatred, would change the fact that she was mine. To kill, to torture, to please. Whatever it was, only I was allowed to do things to her. Anybody else who even tried, let alone actually do them would die at my hands. Amara's weapon of choice was often but a knife but my collection was nowhere near as limited as hers. In fact, weapons were my specialty. The men who hurt her tonight would pay for it with their fucking lives, whether it be the boss or her precious little Jay. She winced as I took my first step toward the car and I halted in my steps, watching her as she held her own and stood strong despite wounds all over her. Getting in the car, I drove forward a few feet, stopping with the passenger door right in front of her. She got in and I drove in silence, neither one of us saying another word. It didn't matter how or when, if she needed my help, I would make her beg for it and once I finished helping her, I would make her regret it. So for tonight, I would treat her wounds since she needed someone to but tomorrow morning, she would wake up regretting me. . . . . . Chapter 14 I thought I'd surprise you guys with a double update tonight <3