Chapter 23: 16| Bleed-1

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Bleed ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ Chapter 16: Bleed (Tristan's POV) Three days had passed. Three days of silence, of monitoring, of tracking and tailing those assholes who dared to touch her. I thought about it for hours after leaving Amara's apartment and continued contemplating throughout the restless night. I had a million reasons to walk away from this situation. It wasn't my mess to clean up. But no matter how rational I attempted to act, every time I thought back to that night, every time I replayed what I saw, all I could see now was pure, burning red. A fire that burned so bright, a rage so powerful, I couldn't see beyond it. This was her job, it had nothing to do with me. It wasn't the first time she dealt with men like those and it certainly wouldn't be the last time either but something had kicked off inside of me after watching her fight those men off. I knew Amara could fight for herself and I knew she had done it in the past yet I had never actually seen her do it until that night. I never expected it to haunt me the way it did. The image of her stumbling over to me, covered in blood and bruises was painted far too vividly in my mind for me to forget. It infuriated me. It took me two years to force my feelings down, contain myself, and keep control of myself. At first, it was hard because Amara left without a word, without any explanation. The year she was gone was pure torment for me. The woman fucking devoured every thought I had. Just when I thought I was past the point of dwelling over it, she came back, reappearing as if she had never left, as if everything was still normal. But it wasn't. She was different when she came back. So I was left with no choice but to act indifferent and unaffected. I practiced it enough for the act to become real and over the past three years, my indifference morphed into pure and charged hatred for her. I hated her for everything she had the power to do to me and for everything she did to me. I hated her for leaving, I hated her for driving a wedge between us once again, but most importantly, I hated her for what her father had done to me. She was beginning to threaten that indifference I trained myself to feel and I couldn't afford that. No matter what, I couldn't walk away from this now, I had to see this through. A life for a life. It may not be fair to Amara since she was completely oblivious not only to my history but even to her own for the most part. But I didn't care anymore. I hated her enough to want her dead. I hated her more than I once wanted her. Wanting her was never an option anyway. Not then… and most certainly not now. Starting my car, I drove to The Veil where I had called Dante to meet. The drive was short and it didn't give me enough time to mull over the mystery that was Amara Milano. Walking into the room, I spotted Dante sitting by himself with a chessboard in front of him. "Must be nice," I said as I walked over to him, "playing both teams. You win even if you lose." Stopping beside the table with my hands tucked comfortably into my pockets, I glanced pointedly at the board where he played for both sides. "The hardest games are played against yourself, aren't they, Harper?" he asked, nodding toward the chair across from him. My gaze drifted to the flash drive sitting on the table, the same one I gave him two days ago. It contained everything there was to know about Jay and his boss, Nathan Roberts. More so, it had all the intel about their little underground circle. They wouldn't stand a chance in front of people like us. It was a small, inner circle that people occasionally hired when they wanted eyes on others. Essentially, Jay and his friends would be hired to stalk someone and report all information to whoever paid for it. "The intel you gathered is mine now," Dante said, "that's what I'm taking in exchange for doing you this favor. Deal?" That information would be of no use to me once I killed them tonight. "Deal," I agreed, "did you find them?" "Of course I did. Where do you want them?" "The warehouse," I responded. He paused for a second. "Near your office?" I nodded once wordlessly. "Midnight. Don't be late, Dante." "Midnight it is," he replied. "Care to tell me why you're going to kill them?" I eyed him for a beat. "What did they do?" he questioned. Nobody needs to know. "That's between them and me," I answered, my gaze dropping to the chess board as I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "They crossed me," I told him vaguely. "They crossed you? Or they crossed Amara?" My eyes met his. "Why bother asking when you know?" "I know everything, Tristan. That doesn't mean I won't ask questions. I had to hear it from you but I know you won't admit it." "So don't bother," I said. "I won't," he retorted, heading for a check on the board. I watched him, wondering how long it would take him to make the next move even though it was staring him in the face. When he took too long, I exhaled in annoyance and made the move instead. "Checkmate. I win," I announced, knocking the glass king off the board. He glanced up at me in annoyance. "My bad," I corrected, "you win." Standing up, I glanced at the time on my watch. Midnight was only two hours away. "Call me before you arrive," I said, "I'm heading out." He hummed in acknowledgment while tapping his finger against his class, a light clink echoing every time his ring hit the edge the way mine often would. Turning on my heels, I walked back out and drove down to my apartment. As I stopped as one red light after another, New York's night traffic running its course, my thoughts just couldn't fucking help but stray to Amara. She was inadvertently a fucking aphrodisiac and I despised her for the effect she had on me. We were teetering on the edge of a very fine line that we weren't allowed to cross. That night in her apartment, even if it was only briefly, I was tempted to let old desires resurface, to let that control slip away for just a second. But I knew from personal experience that one second was all it took to shatter everything. I already made that mistake once and I wouldn't do it again. I couldn't.