Chapter 39: 27| Mercy

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Mercy ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ : Mercy (Amara's POV) My plan was simple in theory. Have small conversations with the people who were on the list of official suspects in the Ricci case and try to pry the smallest of details out of them. Based on where the night took me and what information I gathered, I would have to keep an eye on the people I found suspicious and gather more evidence linking them to the case. For now, I would have to start gathering some attention and striking up some conversations. I started by getting myself a drink and sipping on it as I moved through the room, keeping my eyes and ears open, and taking note of all the guests. The hall was enormous with doors in each corner of the room, leading to different rooms where I assumed other… activities and games took place. Eventually, I moved on and started speaking with some of the men in attendance. An hour or so passed and I made a detour to the bar, asking for a refill. As the bartender prepared my drink, I scanned the room and then started asking a few questions. "Is it always so busy here every weekend?" He glanced at me and smiled softly. "First time?" I nodded back with a sheepish grin. "It's always this full, every Sunday," he answered, "The Hunt offers most services on Sunday. Private dances, private rooms, and some games too." "What kind of games?" I questioned. "All kinds of games," he smiled, "the dirty ones and the risky ones." I glanced at the room Dante slipped into. "Like Russian Roulette?" He paused in surprise before nodding slowly and repeating in confirmation, "Like Russian Roulette. It's mostly men there in that room. Only a rare few take that challenge and walk in. The game starts in ten." I hummed in understanding and took my glass as he offered it. "Thanks." I stalled for those ten minutes and strolled around, finishing my martini while contemplating what to do. If I walked into that room, the chances of me walking out alive could be slimmer than I thought. Could I really gamble on my life for this case? That too, just for a little information? Russian Roulette wasn't a stupid little game where you won or lost. If you lost, you were losing your life. Pulling a trigger at your own head, not knowing if you were shooting a blank or a bullet, not knowing if you'd live or die at your own hands… it was a horrifying thought. But if men, even the most powerful ones, were willing to gamble on their lives here at The Hunt, then it must be worth it. If men, the dumbest ones at that, could play this game, then surely someone as cunning as me could beat them at it. I claimed that this case was worth sacrificing my life and I meant it. I can't go back now. I can't let them down. Taking in a deep breath and bracing a hand against my stomach, I walked toward the room and stopped at the door, flexing my hand before I reached for the doorknob and twisted it open, taking my first step inside. As I closed the door behind me and turned to face the room, all the noise and every single voice simmered down, dissolving into silence. Every head slowly turned to me and every single man's eyes were boring into mine. Not a single woman stood in this room, no woman but me. Everyone stared at me as I strode further into the room and toward the giant, long table in the middle of the dark room with lights only shining on the table in between. My heart pounded too fast for the rest of my body to keep up and I couldn't bring myself to process what I had just done or what I was about to do. Forcing myself, I scanned the faces in the room, recognizing a few men from earlier along with a few others. My gaze first stopped on Dante as he stared at me. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a beat before exhaling and leaning back, subtly pinching the bridge of his nose. I didn't realize until I looked at the person beside him why he reacted that way. I felt everything within me ignite the moment my eyes landed on Tristan. He was looking right at me, right through me with his jaw taut, his grip on his glass tightening to the point where his knuckles grew white, and his eyes icy cold. He put it together the moment he saw me and knew that Dante led me inside. "Are you in the wrong room, doll?" one of the men in front of me asked, inviting himself to place a hand on my waist. I resisted the urge to ball up my fists and pulled on a smile, turning to him. "Not at all. I'm here for the game." Stepping away from him, I moved toward the only empty seat available, directly across from Tristan, of course. Of-fucking-course. As I sat down and rested my hands on the table, I felt my knees grow weak and my heartbeat pounding. "Am I not entitled to a round, gentlemen?" I asked, glancing around the table. It was then that I noticed Tristan's uncle sitting a few seats away from him, watching me too. I knew Michael Ivan solely as Tristan's uncle but I never interacted with him and Tristan almost never mentioned him. I was wary of every person in this room, even Dante and even Tristan. "We begin in five minutes," Dante announced, briefly glancing between Tristan and me. Chatter eventually resumed around the room with a few doubtful glances coming my way. Even then, I found myself looking at nobody but Tristan. My breaths grew short and heavy as he watched me, his gaze never once straying to anybody or anything else. I truly didn't expect to see Tristan here but now that I had, I almost regretted coming here. One of the men reached for the revolver sitting in the middle of the table. "Harper," he called out, sliding it over to him. Tristan caught it and leaned forward, grabbing the one and only bullet case sitting in the middle. Loading up the gun with the sole bullet, Tristan spun the cylinder and blindly snapped it back shut, testing his grip on the gun as he lifted his gaze to mine. My breath hitched as he paused for a beat before stretching out his arm and aiming the gun right at me. "What are you doing?" Dante asked him quietly as everyone watched. "Playing the game," Tristan answered bluntly. "There are rules we follow in this room," Dante said to him sternly. "I'm no longer here for a game of Roulette," he replied. A startled breath escaped me as Tristan suddenly rose to his feet and stormed around the table, stopping at my seat. "Come with me," he demanded, grabbing my hand and dragging me out. Not a single person at that table objected because every single one of them was horrified by Tristan Harper. I realized that when I walked into the room and only the seat across from him remained empty. Dragging me outside and into an isolated, narrow hallway, Tristan backed me up against the wall and braced his free hand on it, caging me in. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he spat out, his voice strained and the control slowly slipping from his fingertips. He was furious, absolutely livid. I glanced at the gun he held in one hand with his finger already on the trigger. "Answer me," he ordered, exhaling roughly. "I'm working, Tristan," I answered him calmly, "don't get in my way." "Do you understand where you are? What you just walked into?" "A game of Russian Roulette," I deadpanned. I felt a surge of relief wash over me when I realized that Tristan didn't only drag me out of that room but he stopped me from putting myself at risk. I was willing to risk my life for the case, no doubt but I never expected him to truly stop me from doing that. I didn't believe that he truly wanted me alive until this moment. "A game you were not going to walk out of alive. You walked into that room and sat across from me. We play games with twisted rules here, Amara. You were not playing against the men in that room, you were playing against me. Only one of us would make it out alive," he explained. Everything stopped for a moment and all thoughts trickled out from my brain. I tipped my head back against the wall, forcing myself to stay calm and rational, to keep control. "Shouldn't you be happy about that? You want to kill me." Bracing his fist on the wall with the gun in his grip, he let out a strained sigh and dropped his head just beside my shoulder, his breath hitting my collarbone, eliciting a small gasp from me. I quickly placed my hands on his chest and pushed him away. "You should have played the game," I said to him. He stepped closer, his body pressing into mine. "How many times must I repeat myself? I've already spelled it out for you. I won't kill you, Amara." "Right now," I added, "you won't kill me right now. You've conveniently decided to spare me a little longer." "Don't forget, you asked that of me." And that is precisely what I don't understand. "Then why did you listen?" I asked, pushing off the fall and stepping forward. "Why are you listening to me at all? Why are you working with me, goddamn it?" I reached up to push him further back but he caught my wrists and pushed my hands off, forcing me to take several steps back until I was cornered once again. "You have a problem with everything I do," he said sharply, "you don't want me to kill you but you hate it that I'm doing as you asked." "Because it doesn't make any sense," I groaned softly. Stepping forward, I erased whatever distance lingered between us until our bodies were pressed against each other. "You have to choose, Tristan. How desperately do you want to kill me and how desperately do you want to save me? You can't do both." "I can do as I please," he said, his eyes traveling across my face, briefly lingering on my lips. "Then how will you save me from yourself?" I questioned. "Eventually," I paused, exhaling shakily, "you will either kill me or save me. You can't do both." Taking a small step back, I moved to walk around him and leave. I had to get away from him before I started losing control over myself. Tristan puzzled me because I let him but I didn't know how to stop it either. Tristan had a hold on me and I despised him for it. However, the truth wouldn't change. I wanted him once and I couldn't risk craving him again the way I once did. If I did, I don't think I would be able to hold myself back and I didn't trust Tristan enough to save me. Letting him in could allow him to kill me and I couldn't afford to take that risk. A firm grip on my hand stopped me from getting further away and I hated what that simple gesture ignited within me. Tristan had the power to make my resolve crumble, to break my walls down once again. He had the power to ruin me and if I trusted him enough to let him in, I would practically be allowing him to destroy me. I can't do that. Spinning me around, he tugged me forward and against him, pinning me in place with a taut arm around my waist. "I decide what to do with you, Amara. It should be you at my mercy." I am at his mercy, goddamn it. What more does he want? He took a breath and held my gaze. "Why does it feel like you still have me at your mercy instead?" . . . . . Chapter 27