PHOENIX

8| SHE HAD PLAYED HIM

Jackson's attention remained fixed on Melissa as she spoke to one of the men he had seen in that fateful building five years ago. The moment he laid eyes on him, recognition came instantly. He remembered the man as though their last encounter had happened only yesterday instead of years ago. Then again, forgetting someone like him would have been nearly impossible. He wasn't the kind of person who blended into a crowd or disappeared from memory with the passing of time. Once you saw him, his face stayed with you.

A long scar stretched across the man's face, beginning at his left eyebrow before cutting its way down the bridge of his nose and ending near the corner of his mouth. It was the first thing Jackson had noticed the day they met, and even now, it immediately drew his attention. He had often found himself wondering how someone could have received such a brutal scar and lived to tell the tale, but he had never been given the opportunity to ask. The man himself was just as intimidating as the scar he carried. He was both exceptionally tall and powerfully built, with broad shoulders that made almost everyone around him appear small by comparison. His long blonde hair was neatly tied back into a ponytail, doing little to soften his imposing appearance. Jackson had always considered himself a tall man, standing at six feet four, but he had no doubt that if he stood beside this man, he would somehow look several inches shorter.

Keeping a safe distance, Jackson continued observing the two of them, careful not to draw attention to himself. It quickly became obvious that they weren't having a casual conversation. They were arguing, although he couldn't hear a single word from where he stood. He found himself wishing he were just a little closer so he could make out what they were saying. Melissa's movements were animated, her hands slicing through the air as she spoke, each gesture revealing the frustration she was trying and failing to conceal. The man remained almost unnaturally still by comparison, listening without interrupting, his stern expression giving away nothing of what he was thinking. The argument continued for another moment before something seemed to change. The man slowly lowered his head as though conceding the conversation, then turned without another word and walked towards a car parked a few metres away. He climbed inside, started the engine and drove off, leaving Melissa standing exactly where she was, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she watched the vehicle disappear from sight.

Jackson's mind immediately filled with questions. What had Melissa been arguing about? More importantly, why had she been arguing with him of all people? The scarred man wasn't just another member of Roy's organisation. Jackson remembered him too well from five years ago to mistake his importance. Men like him didn't waste their time on meaningless conversations, and Melissa wasn't the type to lose her composure unless something truly mattered. Whatever they had been discussing had clearly been significant, and the fact that she had looked so frustrated only made Jackson more determined to find out what was going on.

Jackson was just about to step out from where he had been hiding when Melissa suddenly spun around and looked directly in his direction. His heart skipped a beat. For one terrifying moment, it felt as though she could actually sense him watching her, as though she had somehow known all along that he was there. Their eyes didn't meet, but the way her gaze swept over the area made him hesitate. He couldn't risk exposing himself now, not after everything he had done to remain hidden. Forcing himself to stay perfectly still, Jackson remained exactly where he was, not daring to move so much as a muscle while Melissa continued searching the area.

After several long seconds, Melissa finally seemed satisfied that no one was there. She turned away and walked towards her car without another glance behind her. The moment she reached it, a man dressed in a chauffeur's uniform stepped out from the driver's seat and respectfully opened the rear door for her. Jackson watched quietly, but as Melissa climbed into the vehicle, something caught his attention. It was subtle, so subtle that he couldn't immediately explain it, and for a moment he questioned whether he was simply imagining things. The woman getting into that car looked exactly like Melissa, yet at the same time, she somehow didn't. It made no sense, but the feeling refused to leave him.

Jackson narrowed his eyes, studying her as carefully as he could from where he stood. The more he watched, the stronger that strange feeling became. There was something different about her, something that didn't quite match the Melissa he remembered. He couldn't identify what it was. Her face was the same. Her hair was the same. Even the clothes she was wearing couldn't explain the uneasy feeling settling inside him. Was it the way she carried herself? Had her posture changed somehow? Was it the way she walked, or the way she held her shoulders? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't put his finger on it. All he knew was that something about her felt... different. Whether he was imagining it or not, there was only one way to find out.

Without wasting another second, Jackson hurried back to his own car and started the engine. He waited just long enough for Melissa's vehicle to pull away before easing onto the road behind it, careful to leave enough distance between them that he wouldn't attract attention. It didn't take him long to spot the car again, and once he did, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on it, refusing to let it disappear from view. The vehicle moved steadily through the busy streets, weaving its way between the afternoon traffic before gradually leaving the crowded city centre behind and heading towards the quieter outskirts. Jackson matched its pace from a safe distance, resisting every temptation to get any closer. The last thing he needed was for Melissa or whoever else might be travelling with her to realise they were being followed.

Jackson wasn't worried about anyone recognising the particular car he was driving because it wasn't the only one he owned. He had five cars altogether, each a different colour and each registered with a different licence plate. The white one he was driving now had been the very first car he bought after arriving back home, and despite adding several more to his collection, it remained his favourite. The day before he met Sue, he had bought a red one. At the time, he hadn't been entirely sure whether red suited him, but he wanted variety rather than a fleet of identical vehicles, and in the end, the colour had seemed like a good choice.

The remaining three cars had already been purchased before he had even boarded his flight home. It had been his mentor's idea, one Jackson hadn't fully appreciated until he began putting his plans into motion. According to his mentor, revenge demanded patience, preparation and flexibility, and owning several vehicles would give him all three. If he followed the same person in the same car every day, it wouldn't take long before someone noticed the pattern. Different cars, however, made that far less likely. He could trail the same target for days, even weeks, without raising suspicion, because each time they looked in their rear-view mirror, they would see what appeared to be a completely different vehicle.

His eyes never strayed far from her vehicle, but his mind was occupied with far more than simply keeping her in sight. Questions continued circling through his head, each one leading to another. What had she been arguing about? Who was the scarred man to her? What were the Roys planning? More importantly, how could he use whatever he discovered to his own advantage? Every answer had the potential to bring him one step closer to achieving the revenge he had spent years preparing for.

Even as he concentrated on the road ahead, another thought drifted into his mind. He was already considering what type of car he wanted to buy next. Money wasn't the issue. He had more than enough to afford another vehicle whenever he wanted one. The real problem was appearances. Buying cars too frequently would eventually attract unnecessary attention, and attention was something he couldn't afford while carrying out his plans. Since he had purchased another car only a few days earlier, he knew he would have to wait a while before adding another one to his collection, no matter how tempting the idea seemed.

Melissa's car continued further south, and the longer Jackson followed it, the more uneasy he became. The route felt unusually long, and as the kilometres passed, doubt slowly crept into his mind. For a brief moment, he even considered turning around and abandoning the chase altogether. A troubling thought had begun taking shape. What if they had already realised someone was following them? What if this entire drive was nothing more than an attempt to confirm their suspicions before dealing with whoever had been foolish enough to trail them? Jackson had no intention of driving himself into a trap.

Acting on instinct, he turned onto a different road and deliberately broke away from Melissa's route. For several minutes he drove without any particular destination, taking random turns and allowing enough time to pass that anyone watching would assume he had never been following them in the first place. Only after he was satisfied that he hadn't attracted any unwanted attention did he begin searching the surrounding streets again. It wasn't long before he spotted Melissa's car once more. This time it was parked, and Melissa wasn't alone. Leaning casually against the side of the vehicle beside a young woman Jackson had never seen before, she laughed freely at something the other girl had said, looking so relaxed that it was difficult to believe she had been arguing so passionately only a short while earlier.

Jackson knew parking anywhere near them would be a mistake. If either Melissa or the unfamiliar girl happened to glance in his direction, they would immediately recognise both him and his car. He couldn't afford to take that risk, so he continued driving until he was a considerable distance away before pulling over and parking. After switching off the engine, he got out and made his way back on foot, careful to keep his movements as natural as possible. It took longer than he would have liked, but eventually he reached the area where the two women were standing. After quietly surveying his surroundings, he found a suitable place to hide close enough to observe them without attracting attention, then remained perfectly still as he strained to catch their conversation.

Unfortunately, the distance between them was still too great for him to hear everything they were saying. Most of their words were lost before they reached him, leaving him to piece together the conversation from the few fragments that drifted his way. Even so, he heard enough to confirm something he had already begun to suspect. They had noticed his car earlier. The unfamiliar woman asked Melissa whether it was possible that he had seen what they were doing, and Melissa replied that he must have realised something was wrong because he had suddenly driven away instead of continuing to follow them.

"...can't believe he fell for it," the unfamiliar girl said, a giggle escaping her lips.

"I know, right?" Melissa replied, her voice carrying a hint of smug satisfaction. "Men are so predictable. I'm pretty sure he will be crying over the wasted gas tonight in his bed."

Jackson remained where he was, listening as the two women continued talking. Most of what followed made very little sense to him because he couldn't hear enough to understand the full context of their conversation, but by then he had already learned something far more important than whatever details he was missing. Melissa was different whenever she was in her own world. The woman laughing so freely with her companion was nothing like the quiet, introverted yet quietly confident Melissa he thought he knew. Her tone was different. The way she carried herself was different. Even the confidence with which she spoke was unlike anything he had ever associated with her. It was as though she had effortlessly slipped into a completely different version of herself, leaving Jackson to wonder whether the woman he had fallen in love with had ever truly existed at all.

The realisation left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't believe how completely he had been fooled, not only five years ago but even yesterday. Standing there, watching her laugh without a care in the world, he remembered the tears in her eyes when he had pretended not to know her in the hotel. For a brief, foolish moment, he had actually considered reconciling with her. Seeing the hurt on her face had weakened his resolve, making him question whether everything was really as simple as he had convinced himself it was. Now he could only shake his head at his own stupidity.

Melissa's tears had always been his greatest weakness, and she knew it better than anyone else. Looking back on their encounter in the hotel lobby, Jackson could only reach one conclusion. Yesterday, she had cried because she wanted him to lower his guard, to allow her back into his life so she could destroy him all over again. Just as she had done five years earlier, she had used the one weapon she knew had always worked against him. Once again, she had played him, and what frustrated him most wasn't that she had tried. It was the fact that, for one brief moment, he had almost fallen for it.

Jackson drew in a long, steady breath, forcing himself to push the memory of Melissa's tears out of his mind before they could weaken his resolve again. He had to stay focused. He had to remember why he had come back after all these years. The Roys were his enemies, every single one of them, and Melissa, regardless of the history they shared, was still a Roy. She belonged to the family that had destroyed his life, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, she had made her choice a long time ago. She had chosen them over him, and it was time he accepted that instead of allowing old feelings to cloud his judgement every time she appeared before him.

Just then, a car pulled up beside the two women. Jackson instinctively shifted his attention towards it, watching as the front passenger door swung open and a man stepped out. Before Jackson even had the chance to properly see the man's face, Melissa broke into a run. She threw herself into his arms without the slightest hesitation, wrapping them around him before pressing her lips against his in a deep, lingering kiss. The sight struck Jackson with such force that for a brief moment the world around him seemed to tilt. Had he not already been leaning against the tree behind him, he was certain his legs would have given way beneath him, sending him crashing face-first onto the ground.

Of everything he had imagined he might witness while following Melissa, this wasn't one of them. He had expected meetings, secret conversations or perhaps another argument like the one he had seen earlier. Never had it crossed his mind that Melissa had found someone else, especially after standing in the hotel lobby and acting as though she had spent the last five years waiting for him. The thought made his jaw tighten. The b***h probably enjoys lying, he thought bitterly. If she could look me in the eyes and pretend she had been waiting all this time, then what else had she lied about? For the first time, he found himself questioning everything she had ever told him while they were together, wondering whether any of it had been real or whether he had simply been foolish enough to believe exactly what she wanted him to believe.

Jackson decided he had seen enough. There was nothing else to gain by staying there, and the longer he watched, the more unbearable it became. Quietly, he turned away and made his way back towards where he had parked his car. Later, he wouldn't be able to remember the walk back. He didn't know how he had managed to reach the car without thinking about where he was going, and more than anything else, he couldn't understand why what he had witnessed affected him so deeply. He had spent the last several years training his stubborn heart, forcing it to let go of Melissa piece by piece until he believed there was nothing left for her to hurt.

He had genuinely believed those years had been enough. He had convinced himself that he had finally taught his heart the lesson it had refused to learn five years ago, that it no longer belonged to Melissa and never would again. What he hadn't realised was that throughout all those years of trying to stop himself from loving her, he had never once stopped to consider what would happen if he actually saw her again. He had prepared himself for memories, for anger and even for revenge, but he had never prepared himself for her presence.

Somehow, he had convinced himself that forgetting her was enough. That if he forced himself to remove her from his heart, everything else would simply fall into place. He had believed that was the hardest part. Seeing her again had never crossed his mind, and now he was paying the price for that mistake.

As Jackson drove away, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to Melissa. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the road ahead, his thoughts refused to cooperate, circling endlessly around the same questions. What kind of witchcraft or spell did she cast on me? he wondered bitterly. It was the only explanation his frustrated mind could come up with because he was pretty damn sure that whatever he was feeling wasn't normal. It couldn't be. Not after everything she had done to him. Not after spending years convincing himself that he had finally moved on. Yet somehow, all it had taken was seeing her again for every wall he had built around his heart to begin crumbling.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white, the leather creaking faintly beneath the pressure of his hands. Thoughts collided inside his head, each one more frustrating than the last, refusing to give him a moment's peace. The memories he had worked so hard to bury kept resurfacing one after another, refusing to stay where they belonged. Eventually, the weight of everything became too much to bear, and he pulled over to the side of the road. Resting his forehead briefly against the steering wheel, he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He couldn't afford to lose control like this. He was closer than ever to accomplishing what he had spent years preparing for, and allowing Melissa to distract him now would be the greatest mistake he could possibly make.

Drawing in a slow, deliberate breath, Jackson forced himself to think rationally. He had a plan, and that plan had carried him this far. Nothing had changed except the fact that Melissa had unexpectedly reappeared in his life. She had betrayed him once already, and whether she had found another man or not shouldn't matter to him anymore. None of it should matter. This had stopped being about Melissa a long time ago. It was about justice. It was about making the Roy family answer for everything they had done to him and to the countless other innocent people whose lives they had destroyed. He couldn't allow old feelings to interfere with that purpose, no matter how persistent they proved to be.

After sitting there for several more moments, Jackson finally started the engine again and pulled back onto the road, driving the rest of the way to his apartment in complete silence. By the time he arrived, exhaustion had settled over him, not the kind that came from physical effort but the kind that came from fighting a battle inside his own mind. The moment he stepped through the front door, he stripped off his clothes almost absentmindedly and headed straight for the bathroom. He turned on the shower without bothering to adjust the temperature and stepped beneath the stream of cold water, hoping it would shock some sense back into him.

The icy water did help clear his head, at least for a moment. It washed away some of the tension that had built up inside him throughout the day, but it couldn't wash away his thoughts. No matter how long he remained beneath the shower, his mind stubbornly returned to the same scene over and over again. Melissa running into another man's arms. Melissa kissing him without hesitation. Melissa looking happier than Jackson had expected she could ever look. The images replayed relentlessly inside his head, each repetition feeding the frustration clawing at him until it became almost unbearable.

Jackson lowered his head and let the cold water run over him, releasing a slow, frustrated breath. He couldn't keep living like this. If his thoughts continued spiralling every time Melissa appeared, sooner or later they would destroy everything he had worked so hard to build. He needed something, anything to pull his mind away from her before she consumed every waking thought he had. He wasn't entirely sure what kind of distraction he needed, only that he needed one, and he needed it fast. Otherwise, he had the uncomfortable feeling that sooner or later, he was going to explode.

After drying himself off, Jackson quietly got dressed in a fresh set of clothes before reaching for his car keys. Staying inside the apartment clearly wasn't helping. The more time he spent alone with his thoughts, the more they circled back to Melissa, and he had already decided that was the last thing he needed. If he wanted any chance of regaining control of himself, he had to get out. Without giving himself the opportunity to change his mind, he left the apartment, made his way down to the garage and stood for a moment in front of his collection of cars before settling on the red Jeep. He climbed inside, started the engine and drove towards a bar a few blocks away from the apartment. He had never set foot inside the place before, but that didn't matter to him. In fact, he preferred it that way. The chances of running into someone who recognised him were slim, and tonight, anonymity was exactly what he was looking for.

The bar was called Dirty Tom's Bar, and the moment Jackson stepped inside, he understood why it had managed to survive for so many years. The lighting was intentionally dim, making it difficult to study anyone's face for too long, while the constant murmur of conversations blended with the occasional burst of laughter to create the kind of atmosphere where strangers minded their own business. The walls were decorated with old photographs and unusual pieces of memorabilia collected over the years, giving the place a nostalgic charm that contrasted with the rough crowd it attracted. Jackson took a slow look around before making his way further inside, oddly comforted by the darkness and the anonymity it offered.

He eventually found an empty stool at the far end of the bar, far enough from the liveliest groups that no one was likely to strike up a conversation with him unless he invited it. As soon as he sat down, he ordered a whiskey, neat. The bartender, a broad-shouldered man whose friendly expression suggested he had seen every type of customer imaginable, poured the drink without asking unnecessary questions before sliding the glass across the counter. Jackson accepted it with a quiet nod and lifted it to his lips. The whiskey burned pleasantly as it travelled down his throat, and for the first time since leaving Melissa behind, his mind felt just a little quieter. The warmth of the drink settled inside him, grounding him, even if only for a brief moment.

His gaze wandered aimlessly around the room as he nursed his drink, more out of habit than curiosity, until it eventually settled on a woman sitting alone at one of the tables. She had her back to him, long dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she sat completely absorbed in the book resting in front of her. Unlike everyone else in the bar, she paid no attention to the conversations, the laughter or the music surrounding her. She simply read, seemingly oblivious to everything happening around her. There was something about her that immediately stood out. She looked completely out of place among the noisy patrons filling the bar, her quiet presence creating a striking contrast against the lively atmosphere.

Jackson finished the last of his whiskey before quietly ordering another. As the bartender refilled his glass, he found himself glancing towards the woman again, wondering whether he should leave her alone or walk over and introduce himself. He had come to the bar because he desperately needed a distraction, something, anything that would stop his thoughts from returning to Melissa, and the woman sitting alone seemed as good a distraction as any. After staring into his glass for a few moments longer, he picked it up, rose from his stool and made his way towards her table.

"Mind if I join you?" Jackson asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady. On the surface, he sounded calm and collected, but inside, his emotions were still in complete turmoil. He could only hope none of it found its way into his voice because the last thing he wanted was for a complete stranger to realise he was barely holding himself together.

The woman looked up from her book, clearly startled by the unexpected interruption. Her surprise lasted only a moment before it gave way to a warm smile. "Sure, why not?" she replied as she closed the book just enough to keep her place. "It's not like anyone else in here is interested in discussing literature."

Jackson couldn't help but chuckle as he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. "What are you reading?" he asked, genuine curiosity replacing, if only briefly, the thoughts that had consumed him since leaving the apartment.

"It's a collection of short stories by Raymond Carver," she replied, turning the book so he could read the cover for himself. "I come here to escape and get lost in his words."

Jackson nodded thoughtfully as he looked at the cover before returning his gaze to her. "Interesting choice," he said. "Carver's work is intense. I could use some of that right now." The words slipped out before he realised they revealed more about his state of mind than he had intended, but by then it was too late to take them back.

She studied him quietly for a moment, her eyes lingering on his face as though trying to understand the man sitting across from her. "You look like you have a lot on your mind," she said gently. "Want to talk about it?"

Jackson hesitated, unsure how to answer. The truth was out of the question. There was no way he could tell a stranger about Melissa, the Roy family or the revenge that had consumed the last several years of his life. Even if he wanted to, where would he begin? "Just dealing with some personal stuff," he replied after a brief pause, choosing his words carefully. "I needed to get away for a bit."

Without saying anything else, the woman closed her book completely and rested it on the table before leaning forward slightly. "Sometimes getting lost in someone else's story helps you find your own path," she said, her voice carrying the quiet confidence of someone who genuinely believed what she was saying.

For reasons Jackson couldn't quite explain, her words resonated with him. He found himself smiling, the expression coming far more naturally than he expected. "You're right," he admitted before extending his hand across the table. "I'm Zach, by the way."

She accepted the handshake with an easy smile. "Nice to meet you, Zach. I'm Emily."

Jackson smiled politely, about to tell her she had a beautiful name, when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. His smile vanished instantly as he turned his head, disbelief spreading across his face before the words escaped him without a second thought.

"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me!"