Deya stood frozen on the spot, too terrified to turn around and face her mysterious companion. It was her way of convincing herself the situation is not real and that there's no reason for her heart to beat so fast. But oh, was she proven wrong once the familiar husky voice echoed.
"I thought I could smell alcohol when you kissed me yesterday"
Max
The girl still didn't make a move to turn around, and the room was filled with the sounds of his slow but confident footsteps.
"I just couldn't figure out how would you get your hands on any" He continued from a distance too short for her liking.
"Patrick swore he didn't give it to you.." Deya closed her eyes, incapable of preventing her whole body from trembling.
"So did the staff.." The faces of the Kelly and Rosalie filled the girl's mind, and her breath hitched as she imagined the devil shouting at the poor women.
I always bring bad luck upon others, don't I?
"But I guess this explains it" Max whispered into her ear bitterly, sending shivers down her spine. As much as she strained her mind, no amount of lying could possibly help her out of this situation. And that's why her lips remained sealed.
"Look at me" The man ordered firmly, but she just shook her head.
"Look. At. Me" The words were hissed through gritted teeth now, but it only forced the girl to press her eyelids tighter.
Before she knows it, a painful grip appeared on her right forearm and she felt her body being span around, the motion leaving her dizzy.
However, instead of another booming order, there was a suspicious silence, and so she half opened one eye to sneak a peak.
"What happened?" His brow furrowed in concern, and it wasn't until he reached up to touch her black eye that she realized what's going on.
"It's nothing. Just.. training" She mumbled, but the devil's enraged frown forced her to clarify. "I was distracted and jumped in the way of a punch. It wasn't Patrick's fault"
"Were you drunk?" Max inquired in emotionless tone, and the girl's eyes instantly refocused on the tips of her shoes, providing an answer in itself.
"Why you do this to yourself?" The words hang in the air for a while, the devil's eyes hiding behind a curtain of pity.
That is, until Deya raised her head again, putting her emotions on display.
"Why I do this to myself?" She repeated slowly, jerking her hand out of his hold.
"Seriously, Maximón?" Her lips spitted the name out as if it was poison, and her chocolate orbs narrowed into slits. "I've been through enough to not be shamed for having a drink or two"
To prove the point, she reached for the closest liquor on the bar, but before she could even think about opening it Max knocked it out of her hand and the bottle shattered into thousands of tiny pieces as it collided with the floor.
"We both know it wasn't a drink or two" He growled lowly, hand gripping the girl's fragile wrist. "I checked the order list, and we've been running out of absinth at a record rate in the past weeks. So I checked the CCTV."
Deya felt her cheeks getting flushed in shame under the man's judgemental gaze. Nonetheless, then the reality of who's standing in front of her dawned on her.
"You're such a hypocrite" She hissed with newly found rage while attempting to free her hand. "Like I can't hear you and the other Bulldogs getting wasted nearly every night"
"There's a difference between grabbing a beer with your mates after a mission, and sneaking bottles into your bedroom to get fucked alone" Max returned coldly, his grip not relenting a bit.
"Like you would ever let me if I asked!" She shouted in disbelief. "And don't forget some of us don't have the privilege of 'grabbing a beer with mates'. Or even talk to them, while we're at it"
The devil's lips parted a couple of times, but it seemed he ran out of arguments.
"You have no right to judge me" Deya finally stopped fidgeting, all her energy focused on burning a hole into the man with her glare.
"Yeah, I don't" For a second, Max appeared taken aback, his tone noticeably softening.
"And I'm not" There was a short pause as he shook his head. "But I've promised your father to keep you safe, and that includes protecting you from yourself"
Another wave of silence fell upon them, and Max wondered if Deya even heard him, given the disinterested expression.
But she did.
And as her mind slowly absorbed the words, her cheeks got gradually more heated. The room was suddenly drown in a animalistic scream as her mask of composition eventually fell, and she used the moment Max covered his ears to launch an attack.
"How dare you bring my father into this!" Her tiny fists rained on the man from all sides as she added a bunch of colourful insults, momentarily switching to russian without even noticing.
"Wait--" He tried to get a word in while shielding his face, but the girl soon hit the weak spot above his right hip and that cut him off.
"You out of all people should understand!" Her voice came out unnaturally rough as she struggled to catch a breath, and it obviously hit a sore spot.
"You're right, I'm--" The devil's eyes instantly filled with guilt, but it was a little too late and the girl used the distraction to deliver a punch to his uncovered face.
"I don't wanna hear it!" She yelled at the top of her lungs while backing away from the man. "And I don't care what you promised my father!"
"He's dead for christ sake!" With the words, the room fell into silence again, leaving them to stare at each other from distance.
It was about then that Deya registered the stabbing pain in her bare feet for the first time. Casting her eyes to the tiled floor, she absentmindedly focused on the glistening tiny pieces of glass and bloody smudges, admiring it the way one might an art piece.
"He's.. dead" She repeated in a pained voice and when she looked up again, the bloodlust in her eyes was gone, replaced by a curtain of tears.
. . .
"You wished to talk to me?" Hunter inquired uncertainly once he gathered courage enough to open the door to his father's office.
"Take a seat" The old man motioned to the chair on the opposite side of his desk, and perhaps it was out of sheer terror that his son complied. After all, since his return, the threat of being exposed seemed to intensify with each passing day.
"You've been working hard for the past couple of months, and I want you to know it didn't go unnoticed" He continued in a serious tone, not seating himself down yet.
"Thank you, father" Hunter mumbled humbly, avoiding the man's piercing gaze in the process.
"Of course, it is unfortunate that your memory did not return" Oliver added before making another pause. "But maybe it's for the best"
It was at this point that Hunter finally looked up, curious at the unusual turn of events.
"A fresh start" The old man flashed him a wide fake smile before sitting down himself.
"I shall hope so, father" He replied in robotic voice, struggling to fight the urge to punch him. After a lifelong of disappointment, he knew better than to fall for the honeyed promises. The problem was, he had no idea what exactly is on his father's agenda this time.
"Now, I guess you're wondering why I called for you," He made a dramatic pause and waited till his son acknowledged him with a cautious nod.
Here we go.
"A couple of months ago, the Bulldogs proposed us a deal" Oliver threw in with an overly momentous expression.
"The Northern operations" Hunter filled in, hoping to speed the conversation up a little, and the man shot him a sharp look.
"Not exactly" He admitted slowly, instantly catching his son's attention.
"You know the North is all about luring the Tottenham Mayhem. It's no secret Maximón is out for them. But it's also none of my business as long as the risks for Kings are manageable"
Oliver stated the facts before making another pause, and Hunter's heartbeat increased in anticipation.
"But now we were asked to join the war directly" There was a certain hesitancy to his word, as if he pondered how much information he can entrust his son.
"What do you mean?" Hunter inquired breathlessly, earning himself a suspecting once over.
"They want us along their side when they take Connor down once and for all" The old man eventually added bitterly.
"Well, then we have to, don't we?" Hunter's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Otherwise we could lose the North, and the Kings need the money right now"
"You see, that's what I thought too" His father's lips curved into a pensive frown as he stared off into distance.
"But then we got another offer" Hunter shifted in his seat uncomfortably, as if his instincts warned him about what's to come. "From Connor himself"
"I don't understand"
"He caught a wind of our little partnership it would seem" His father let out a sight. "One of our men got cornered last week and was appointed to deliver the message. Apparently, they would like to compensate us for turning in the Bulldogs"
"It's not a steady income" His son quickly pointed out, unsure what's here to consider.
"It's not" Oliver nodded before crossing his arms. "But since Maximón got his toy back he's too distracted. Going against Connor might be a lost battle"
Hunter's heartbeat instantly accelerated. His toy.
Does it mean Deya's back?
Although his face revealed nothing, his mind was overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. There was happiness at knowing she's safe from Connor and his goons. But there was also the helpless feeling at knowing he won't be able to reach her anytime soon. And who knows what happens while she's with Max.
"You might not remember that, but the girl is like a black cat" The old man suddenly interrupted his chain of thoughts. "If she crosses your way, you better turn around and run"
Hunter's hands curled into tight fists under the table as he struggled to control his animosity. Nonetheless. the fact he needs to somehow convince Oliver that going against the Bulldogs is a bad idea was perhaps the only thing keeping him on the leash.
. . .
(One week later)
Deya sat on the couch in the game room, mindlessly flipping through TV channels in an attempt to kill the time. It's been seven days since she had her last drop of alcohol, and although Max finally allowed her to wander through the house, she found herself too frustrated to do anything meaningful anyway.
With a huff, she switched the TV off, catching the bar's reflection in its surface once the screen blacked out.
Seven days.
Her feet painfully itched at the memory of that night, the injury not having a time to heal completely yet. And still, it was what followed that she couldn't bring herself to think about.
Like the devil's muscled arms scooping her crying frame up from the floor and carrying her into his room. Or the gentleness and patience with which he proceeded to pull out all the shards from her feet and clean the wounds.
However, perhaps the biggest source of distress was waking up to the tattooed arms wrapped around her waist tightly, and his nose buried into the nape of her neck.
Why? Just why would he do that?
But most importantly, she couldn't wrap her head around why she hasn't ended it then and there. No. Instead, she shamelessly snuggled closer and closed her eyes again in an attempt to prolong the moment.
And perhaps things would go differently if she didn't.
Maybe I could actually talk to him before he shut me off again, for starters.
But the more she thought about it, the more her thirst grew, and it forced her to switch the TV back on and pretend to engage in whatever the show was on.
Although the devil was unlikely to make an appearance, she knew well someone else would, and very soon. In fact, now that she came to think of it, it was strange she was left here alone in the first place.
Since she got caught, Max was adamant about having one of the Bulldogs guarding her practically every minute since she woke up till she fell asleep. She was able to reconcile with James and Mateo, their company partially compensating for the oppressive measures and forced abstinence.
However, it's been more than twenty minutes now since the door closed behind Patrick, and even the giant himself seemed concerned that his back up didn't show up yet.
'I'm sure James will be here any minute,' He muttered, not sounding convinced at all. 'Must have got stuck in traffic or something'
It was obvious he didn't want to leave her alone, but the insistent ringing of his phone for the past five minutes suggested he got places to be.
And so he went.
But then, right as she pondered taking a lazy late afternoon nap to kill the time, the door flew open and Dylan's frantic figure strode in.
Suffice to say, she was on her feet in a second, mumbling a shocked 'no way' in the process.
And why wouldn't she? It was the first time they've met since her return, and it was long before that Max decided to isolate her from him.
So, what changed?
A part of her longed to jump into his arms, and it was the same part that remembered how his company use to brighten her days. But the other one couldn't help but wonder why is he here. Why now?
"Dylan... what happened?" She whispered while taking in his distraught state, her sense of dread intensifying once she noticed the gleam of guilt in his orbs.
"I-I need you to come with me" He blurted out frantically and ran his fingers through his overgrown hair.
"Is everything alright?" Deya's voice came out wobbly, but she remained frozen to her spot in shock.
"I'll explain everything on the way" Dylan shot her a pleading look while motioning to the door. "Please, trust me"
She nervously scanned the room as if seeking cues on how to decide. But finding none, it seemed she'll have to rely on her gut.
And so she decided to take a leap of faith and follow the man out the door.