Don't tell me that you love me
'Cause I won't love back
Don't tell me that you need me
'Cause I don't need that
Don't tell me that you want me
'Cause I'm on my own
So when we finish touching
Girl, I'm all alone
Alone — Bazzi
POV: MAXON
Hours Earlier
I stood there, motionless, fixated on the door like a lost animal, desperate for some answer to materialize.
It felt as if all the reactions inside my head had been muted.
When she stormed out of here, I felt like my whole world came crashing down. I knew she was pissed, but the way she looked at me with all that hate... it tore me apart. I never thought she'd react any other way, but damn, seeing her leave like that hit me right in the feels.
The silence in the room shattered when my phone buzzed, displaying "Cope" on the screen. Anger surged within me, and I resisted the urge to hurl the device against the wall.
"What do you want?" I snapped, impatience tainting my tone. A colossal mistake.
"I have another job for you," Cope's voice seeped through the line.
"I'm not in town," I retorted, annoyance creeping into my words. Another significant mistake.
"I know precisely where you are, Maxon. You're in Ottawa, residing at the Miller hotel, room 612," he sneered, a manipulative bastard to his core. "I'm well acquainted with your every move, kid. I'm still puzzled as to how you plan to conjure up the damned money you owe me. I'm being gracious by offering you a chance at life in exchange for your services. So, I don't care where you are; you'll do as I say."
A while back, I made a bet with Cope on an MMA fight, intending to win the money and settle my other debts. I had placed my faith in Maycon Sales, convinced he would claim the championship. Having witnessed his ferocity in the ring before, I wagered twenty thousand. But fate conspired against me as Sales succumbed to a rear-naked choke, forcing him to forfeit the match. The aftermath plunged me into a profound misery. It seemed that every endeavor to resolve my problems only birthed new ones.
Unsurprisingly, I didn't possess the funds to repay Cope—yet. Hence, he assigned me sordid tasks in exchange for extending my deadline, or rather, my deadline for life, as he preferred to call it. However, whenever something veered off course, it always fell upon me to bear the consequences.
"Tell me what you want this time, Cope."
"I need you to infiltrate Howey's Strip Club and gain access to his office. Locate a folder labeled GH History within one of the drawers and bring it to me."
I couldn't help but laugh at his outlandish request.
The cunning strategist failed to consider that he had chosen the most ill-suited person for this task.
"Would you like me to fetch the moon and the sun as well? That would be easier. How do you fucking expect me to enter that place? Everyone there wants me dead."
"I don't know, disguise yourself as a stripper, figure it out. I need that folder, Stirling. You have five days to deliver it to me. If you fail, I swear I'll hunt you down, deep into the bowels of hell, and put a bullet in your head."
With those final words, he abruptly ended the call, and in frustration, I hurled the phone onto the bed.
What a shitty day!
***
Nicotine seeps into my lungs and infiltrates my bloodstream, delivering that all-too-familiar momentary pleasure as I gaze at the vista before me. Each inhalation brings me closer to death, but it's not the cigarette itself that's killing me; no, it runs deeper.
YOU ARE READING
A Bad Boy in my life
Romance"I used to think I knew what being hurt felt like, but then I met him. How I miss the days when he was a stranger to me" *** When Margo is dragged into the Stirling family's house, where her mother works as a maid, she comes face to face with Maxon...
