Dance in his battlefield

CHAPTER 2

“I come first!” I look around.

“To all of you, I come first!”

Roger scoffs. I return my gaze to him.

“You don't have a family, how would you understand, you ran away when you should have protected yours. You built differently out of pure hatred, you are a co…”

Simon moves to Roger and slams the butt of his gun directly to his eyes.

I stand straightening my suit, turning around to look at them, a grin on my face.

“You bought the tickets,” I lean in, reaching for his hand as he grunt his pain.

“Now enjoy the show. Don't worry, your family will be joining you too,” I whisper, snapping his finger with quick force.

His scream and yelling fills the room, I walk out followed quickly by Simon.

“What do we do about them, boss?”

“Burn it down.”

“And Roger?”

I smile.

“Tie him by his limbs and pull him apart. I would love the sound of his scream sent as a message to his family,”

I pause before my car, my eyes catching a figure lurking in the dark.

“Simon. The girl, bring her to me.”

“You realize she could be a trap?” Simon was always particular about my decisions. He is more than a friend, closer to a brother. And my most recurring offense to him? I often ignore the danger he points out.

“She saved my life. That’s the least I can do.”

“But…”

“Over there.” I cut him off, nodding toward a figure lingering in the dark.

“Do I check him out?”

“Saving the girl is enough interference for tonight. I wonder who’s interested in her,” I mutter, watching the shadow disappear completely.

“We should leave now,” Simon urges, already heading back toward the bar.

I settle into the back seat, my mind ruminating on what had just transpired. There are betrayals that announce themselves long before they strike. But this? Did I really abandon my family? Roger spilled words I never told him. I could have sworn one of my own brothers hired him.

“They’re cowards,” I scoff quietly. “So much for trust.” A chuckle escapes me, deep from betrayal.

The other door throws open, and she is shoved into the car, unconscious. Her wet hair flipped, brushing my face. The scent of her shampoo, flowery and soft, hit me instantly. Without thinking, I lifted a strand and inhaled again.

Silly.

Her brown hair falls on her face. I brush it aside to check her pulse. It was faint.

“Take me home.”

As the car drives a distance, the bar explodes behind us. Flames and glow reflecting on the side mirror.

★★★★★★★★★★★★

Home. It is my fortress. Everything I was had been forged behind those black gates—every betrayal, every rejection, every grief, like fire on a blade—except that I did not turn out to live the life my mother would describe.

Like the story about that Bible character, Joseph. She would read about how he was a star to be bowed to, the betrayal from his family, and how he forgave them still.

I am the star they bow to; however, forgiving has never been a word. The ability died the day she breathed her last.

The gates open just wide enough for my car. I alight, taking a glance around. Simon goes to pick her out of the car.

“Let me,”

I ignore him.

I lay her carefully on the sofa; my butler hurries over with a glass of wine. Glaring at him as he held his breath.

Another betrayal under my roof? They wouldn’t dare.

I loosen the buttons of my shirt and sink into the sofa, taking a slow sip. My eyes drift back to her. She looked exhausted. There was a scratch on her neck. The door opens.

“Dr. Lin.”

“I came as quickly as I could,” he said, setting his black case down. He kneels by the couch, checks her breathing and her pulse, and presses lightly on her abdomen. She groans lightly.

“She’ll be fine,” he said. “The drink was indeed laced," he prepared a syringe and medication.

I nod, turning to the window. Dark clouds are spreading even more in the sky. The cloud tears open; the sky must be rejoicing for the souls I sent to it. I chuckle.

“Mrs. Bellie,” I called.

She appears immediately. Bellie had always been with me. The only woman who could correct me and survive it.

“Are you okay?” she asks, breaking into my thoughts.

“I guess so.”

“The young miss…”

“Yes. Her. Take care of her. By tomorrow, she’ll be gone.”

My room welcomed me softly, I lower myself, softly landing on the couch by my bed, eyes closed, soft music humming through the room. Sleep hovered but didn’t come.

I pictured Roger, tied and screaming. The image was satisfying... but his words lingered.

I feel myself jolt back from a quick drift as I hear sharp movements by the door.