Chapter 82 His Involvement

Chapter 82 His Involvement
\[Tabitha’s POV\]

I watch Atticus’ retreating form as he lets the pretty bartender that had been speaking with us earlier lead him into a back room. Despite knowing that it was none of my business what was going on between the two, I couldn’t ignore the sudden thrum of possessiveness I feel while the urge to follow hits me.

Beside me, Vance is quiet, but I can feel his gaze burning into me, and I don’t dare look back to see what expression he is wearing. Our current situation was strange, but I couldn’t deny that there was some sort of feeling there. However, this could simply be because of the fact we were connected by his mark that still sat on my wrist.

“If you’re so curious, you should follow.”

Tensing, I tear my gaze away from the door that Atticus and that woman disappeared into and fix it on Vance. Instantly, I feel my insides beginning to churn from the emotion that I find in Vance’s eyes.

“I don’t care what he’s doing,” I say, even though I know I’m lying. “He is an adult, and he can fuck whoever he wants.”

“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t look like you’re ready to kill someone.”

“I’m not,” I counter indignantly. “Anyway, Atticus is the least of our concerns.”

Right now, I don’t have the luxury of worrying about who the fuck Atticus was with. The most important matter here was trying to figure out a way to take down Titus and Allister. If we didn’t do that, then we would be as good as dead.

For a moment, Vance doesn’t speak as he continues to examine me as if he could find something on my face, but when he doesn’t manage, he simply nods.

From the start, we only came to this bar so that Vance could have a meeting with someone without seeming too suspicious. Despite my asking him who he was waiting for, he wouldn’t respond.

Now, he turns in his seat, placing his elbows on the bar behind him while his eyes scan the crowd, but before I can do the same, a sweet yet spicy scent reaches my nose.

Hissing in shock from the way my insides begin to stir and my heart begins to race, I sniff harder until I figure out that the smell is coming from the direction that Atticus and that woman disappeared in.

“What is it?” Vance asks, not missing the sudden shift in my demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit, jumping up and rushing around the bar. “But I think something is wrong.”

Not waiting for him to question me further, I kick the door that is keeping me from Atticus and rush inside to find that bitch holding a knife to Atticus’ throat while he remains in place with half-glazed eyes. However, that isn’t the thing that takes me most by surprise. Instead, it is the fact that the woman’s body is intimately pressed against Atticus, and he wasn’t doing a fucking thing to stop her.

“Whoops,” the woman sighs, throwing her weapon in my direction while I dodge it. “Looks like our fun is over; August is going to kill me.”

As she speaks, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small vial, but before I can even move to try to stop her from what she is going to do next, she smashes it against the floor, and the room is filling with smoke.

Cursing, I rush forward in hopes that I can find her despite there being no visibility, but in the end I come up short, and when things finally clear, she is nowhere to be found.

“Dammit!” I growl as Vance comes up beside me. “She’s gone.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Vance demands, ignoring my words. “What do you think you’re doing by rushing into danger without a second thought?”

Huh? Was he really asking me that right now? What was wrong with wanting to help those I care for?

Those I care for... There it was, my deepest of hearts speaking up and admitting that I did care for Atticus, even though he had ended up hurting me. I had to be out of my fucking mind.

“Clearly she was an assassin!” I snap, speaking part of the truth. “How could you just stand there and let her get away?”

“Because she isn’t any of my concern,” Vance shrugs. “The only person she seemed to want to kill was Atticus.”

Atticus. Right, shaking off my anger, I turn and take in the man that still sits in a beanbag chair, watching our exchange. It was clear that something was off about him, but before I could ask if he was alright, he was shakily standing up.

“You should have stayed away,” he hisses, taking a wobbly step and then stopping as he realizes that his body isn’t cooperating. “I would have been..."

“Dead,” Vance finishes for him, moving forward so he can help support his weight. “The proper thing to say is thank you. If we didn’t show when we did, that woman would have slit your throat.”

“I would have been fine,” Atticus grumbles.

Frowning, I move forward and press a finger against the cut that still marred his skin, and I twitch my lips into a smile of satisfaction when he lets out a hiss of pain.

“Fine my ass,” I huff. “Maybe you should stop trying to act all tough. You were clearly in a really dire situation, and you have Vance and I to thank for still being alive.”

Though I was still extremely angry with him, I was more concerned about what I just witnessed. What the hell was August thinking about trying to have Atticus assassinated? I knew I should have arrested that bastard in the past when I discovered he was allowing vampires to enter his bar. Just how involved with the darkness was he?

Right now, none of this really matters; what we needed to do was get the hell out of here before something else happened.

“Vance,” I begin, settling on getting Atticus somewhere safe so that we could treat his wound. “Can you carry Atticus?”

“Carry?” Both men hiss in unison.

“No fucking way,” Atticus growls, shooting Vance a glare. “I don’t need another man to carry me; I can…”

As he speaks, he attempts to move, only to stumble forward and then be caught by Vance.

“Wanna try that again?” I giggle. “It seems to me that you really let that woman fuck you up. What were you even thinking?”

Growing quiet, I wait as Atticus considered whether or not he should answer my question. From the look in his eyes, it is clear that he doesn’t completely trust me, which causes my heart to squeeze painfully.

“Trying to get answers,” he finally answers, seeming to deflate. “Like why I can’t remember you.”

Eyes widening, I feel a wave of shock rush through me over his response. I don’t know what exactly I expected, but it wasn’t that.

“So you really have forgotten me,” I say quietly. “And you weren’t pretending.”

I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel lighter over Atticus’ words. Maybe it was because I didn’t feel so unwanted knowing that he went through this much trouble just to try to remember us.

“Do you remember what might have happened before you lost your memories?”

“I came to visit August,” Atticus responds. “And then nothing, aside from me waking up with a wicked hangover in his office.”

August. So he was also involved in the sudden disappearance of Atticus’ memories of me. Clearly, there was more to this bartender and his involvement in everything.

“Vance,” I say, suddenly realizing something. “Do you think August could have been involved in your father’s scheme to have me awaken?”

It was a long shot, but August was allowing Allister and Vance to enter his bar despite knowing the prejudice against vampires. No other supernatural business would dare let them on their premises, yet August allowed them to come and hunt for new women.

“It’s a possibility,” Vance confirms. “But there isn’t any way to be absolutely sure without speaking to the one involved.”

"Impossible!" Atticus huffs. “That bastard ran away with his tail tucked.”

“What do you mean ran away?” I ask. “Was he here with that woman?”

“No. He left and told me to meet with her so that she could help me with my request, but now I feel that all of this was preplanned.”

"So, what’s next?” I ask, my frustration flaring. “He is the only one who may have the answers that we seek.”

“Isn’t it simple?” Vance responds. “We hunt that bastard down. How hard could it be?”