Bloodbound: The Crimson Deception

Rue’s heels clicked sharply against the polished marble floor, each step deliberate, each echo a reminder that she wasn’t alone. The air around her felt thick—charged with that same unnerving sensation. Someone was watching. Again. She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the lobby’s dim reflections on the high-gloss walls. Nothing. Just the faint hum of the late-night city beyond the glass doors. The elevator arrived with a soft ding. She stepped inside, pressing the button for the parking garage. The doors slid shut with a hush, sealing her in. And then— "Always starting your day with that grumpy face?" Rue’s fingers curled instinctively into fists as her spine stiffened. That voice. Smooth. Teasing. She didn’t turn. “Who are you?” A reflection flickered in the polished elevator doors. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of self-assured ease that made her instantly irritated. “Atreus.” He met her gaze in the reflection, his smirk just visible. “I’m here to watch over you.” Rue spun on her heel, eyes narrowing. "Watch over me? I don’t need a babysitter." "Not a babysitter," Atreus corrected, leaning lazily against the railing. "Think of me as… quality assurance." She crossed her arms. "I don't recall hiring security." "You didn't," he said easily. "Your father did." Her teeth clenched. "Of course, he did." The elevator dinged, and Rue strode out without another word, irritation crackling through her like static electricity. She barely made it to her car before Atreus slipped in behind her, settling into the backseat like he belonged there. Rue threw him a sharp look through the mirror. "You're seriously getting in my car?" Atreus grinned, making himself comfortable. "Seems like it." "Unbelievable," she muttered, starting the engine. "Get out." "No can do, princess." Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Don't call me that." "Noted," he said, completely ignoring the warning. She exhaled sharply, reversing out of the space with more force than necessary. The low growl of the engine filled the tense silence. "So," Atreus said after a moment, tapping his fingers against the leather seat. "What’s with the dramatic glare? You mad at me, or just life in general?" Rue’s jaw tightened. "I’m mad at the situation." "Ah," he nodded. "So me, then." She didn't dignify that with a response. Her phone buzzed against the console. She glanced down. A text from Gino. Good morning, beautiful. A low whistle came from the backseat. "Boyfriend?" Rue's eyes flicked to him in the mirror. "None of your business." Atreus smirked. "Relax. I’m just assessing the situation." "The situation is that you're an unnecessary problem," she shot back. "Harsh." He grinned. "But fair." The ride continued in strained silence. By the time she pulled into the office parking lot, Rue was ready to physically eject him from the car. She threw the gear into park, turned off the engine, and turned in her seat. "Listen to me, Atreus. I don't need protection. I don’t need—" "—a bodyguard," he finished for her. "Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that. Meanwhile, your father seems to think otherwise." Rue exhaled sharply. "Of course, he does. My father thinks a strong breeze is a credible threat." Atreus tilted his head. "Is it?" She glared. He held up his hands. "Alright, alright. No breeze threats. But humor me—have you actually considered that maybe he’s right? That maybe, just maybe, you’re not invincible?" Rue scoffed. "I’ve been taking care of myself just fine." Atreus leaned forward, his voice dropping just enough to make her pulse jump. "And yet, here I am." Something in his tone—too confident, too knowing—made Rue’s skin prickle. But she refused to let him see it. "Whatever," she muttered, pushing open the door. Predictably, Atreus was right behind her, keeping pace effortlessly as they entered the building. Rue ignored him, though his presence was like a shadow she couldn’t shake. The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped inside, pressing the button for her floor. Atreus followed. She turned to him, arms crossed. "So what, you just plan to follow me everywhere? Lurk in corners? Offer unsolicited life advice?" He shrugged. "Depends. Are you planning to make my job difficult?" "Absolutely." He grinned. "Then yeah. I’ll be everywhere." Rue rolled her eyes as the elevator began its ascent. "So, what’s your deal? You a cop? A mercenary? Or just someone who enjoys making my life miserable?" Atreus smirked. "A little of everything." "Great. A jack-of-all-annoyances." "That’s me," he said cheerfully. The elevator dinged, doors sliding open. Rue stepped out, quickening her pace toward her office. Atreus was right beside her, like an infuriatingly persistent shadow. "Do you ever stop?" she asked, exasperated. Atreus leaned against her office doorframe. "Not when I'm on the job." Rue groaned, rubbing her temples. "Perfect. Just perfect." "Glad you think so," he said with a grin. She huffed, sinking into her chair, throwing him one last withering look. "You are going to drive me insane." Atreus gave a casual shrug. "Probably. But look on the bright side." Rue arched a brow. "There’s a bright side?" He grinned wider. "At least I’m handsome." Rue grabbed the nearest object—a stapler—and chucked it at him. Atreus ducked, laughing as it clattered harmlessly against the doorframe. "Good reflexes," he said, still smirking. Rue groaned, dropping her head onto her desk. This was going to be a very, very long ordeal. And, much to her dismay, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted him to leave. Not yet, anyway. --- Rue let out a slow, controlled breath, pressing her fingers to her temples as Atreus made himself comfortable in the doorway. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she muttered without looking up. “Not really.” “Figures.” Rue exhaled sharply and sat up, pushing her chair back slightly. “Alright. Let’s get something straight—I don’t need a bodyguard, I don’t need you, and I definitely don’t need you hovering around my office like some overgrown bat.” Atreus smirked. “Overgrown bat? That’s a new one.” “I have more,” she shot back. “And I promise, they only get worse.” “I look forward to it.” He strolled into the office uninvited, glancing around like he was assessing the space. His gaze flickered over the bookshelves, the sleek glass desk, the minimalist décor—before landing on the framed photo sitting near her computer. Rue noticed his eyes linger. “Nice picture,” he said, nodding toward it. Her lips pressed into a thin line. It was a photo of her and her father, taken years ago, back when their relationship had been… easier. “Don’t touch it,” she warned as Atreus reached for the frame. He raised his hands in surrender. “Relax. Just curious.” “Don’t be.” Rue grabbed the frame and turned it facedown, then pointed to the door. “Out.” Atreus didn’t budge. Instead, he moved toward the floor-to-ceiling window, peering out at the city below. “Nice view.” Rue clenched her jaw. “Atreus.” “Alright, alright.” He turned back to her with an easy grin. “I’ll make you a deal.” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “A deal?” “Yeah. You let me do my job without fighting me every step of the way, and I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible.” Rue narrowed her eyes. “Define ‘as much as possible.’” “Well,” Atreus leaned against the edge of her desk, much too comfortable, “I’ll still have to follow you everywhere, monitor your security, and intervene if necessary. But I won’t be obnoxious about it.” Rue scoffed. “You’re already failing at that last part.” “Guess I need practice.” She drummed her fingers against the desk, debating. On one hand, telling him to get lost wasn’t working. On the other, maybe if she played along, she could find a way to shake him off sooner rather than later. “…Fine,” she relented. “But if you start getting in my way, I reserve the right to throw more office supplies at you.” Atreus grinned. “Fair.” “Great.” She turned back to her computer, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t. Atreus didn’t leave. Instead, he wandered to the corner of the room, grabbed the extra chair, and spun it around before dropping into it with a sigh. Rue’s eye twitched. “I thought you said you’d stay out of my way.” “This isn’t in your way.” “Physically? No. Mentally? Absolutely.” Atreus smirked. “I’m growing on you already.” She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her emails, doing her best to ignore him. It was difficult. His presence filled the room like a static charge, impossible to ignore. She could feel his gaze occasionally flick toward her, but he said nothing, just sat there, perfectly at ease in a place he had no business being. The silence stretched. Rue focused on her work, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. She even managed to get through three emails before— “So, about your boyfriend…” Rue groaned. Atreus chuckled. “What? Just making conversation.” “He’s not my boyfriend.” “Sure he’s not.” She shot him a glare. “He’s not.” Atreus raised an eyebrow. “So he just calls you beautiful for fun?” Rue sighed. “Can you not?” “Can I not what? Pay attention?” She tapped aggressively on her keyboard, resisting the urge to hurl something at him. Again. Atreus leaned back in his chair. “You know, you don’t have to pretend you don’t like the attention.” Rue turned to him, deadpan. “I would rather dive headfirst into a pit of broken glass than have this conversation with you.” “Dramatic. I like it.” Rue closed her eyes, counting to five. She needed patience. So much patience.