Tell them you're strong.
Tell them you're enough.
My mistake stares back at me in the light of morning, his eyes closed.
I swallow the dread in my stomach, eyes tracing over his features as if to memorise them, feeling time creep up on me.
And I'm almost out of it.
I push myself from the bed, walking to my bathroom quickly, and stuffing myself under the hot spray of the water, cleansing my mind.
Don't get too close.
I remind myself of the words said to me.
Too late.
I breathe out twisting the knob to cold, letting it wash over me in cool clarity, and begin washing my body and hair, swearing when I see the wet gauze stuck to my stomach.
I get out, removing the bandage and replacing it with a new one after cleaning the area, my eyes piqued to any noise outside of the bathroom but judging from the lack of sound, Archer is still asleep.
I exit my bathroom, drying and dressing myself quickly, all the while watching Archer's sleeping form for movement.
He doesn't stir, his chest rising and lowering slowly, peacefully.
I shut my bedroom door behind me, walking slowly down the stairs.
I stop finding two pairs of eyes on me, Clay and Cleo wearing matching expressions of amusement.
"You know just because you live here, doesn't mean its not a walk of shame." Clay says
"Yes, we all heard you guys' last night," Liam says, walking in from the kitchen, stuffing his mouth with a croissant, "These walls are paper thin."
"Leave her alone, she must be tired." Cleo says through her smiles, "And hungry."
I narrow my eyes on all three of their faces, "I am actually, where did you get that croissant?" I ask Liam, already walking to the kitchen.
"Oven, they're fresh." Cleo calls out.
• • •
I walk back out of the kitchen to the sight of a tired Archer talking with Clay, his eyes finding mine as soon as I appear.
I swallow my nerves, walking for the lounge and sitting beside Cleo, Liam falling to the cushions beside me.
Clay turns to us, "I found footage of our mystery man from the docks." He starts, "Ran the stills through the database and got a match."
I lift my brows, interest piqued.
"His name is Dimitri Volkov, the son a well-known crime family in Russia. Last known sighting was over two years ago when he was seen in the same vicinity of infamous hitman, Jedrik Molotov."
The name shocks me into my thoughts, a well of memories rising up to meet me.
A calm overtakes me, settling into my bones and nesting in my heart. The gun in my grip is warm under my fingers, digits toying with the trigger as I watch the murderer below me.
I lift the gun, the click of the safety disengaging dull to my senses.
"Your sister was perfectly alive when your boss found her," Jedrik hisses, the blood coating his face sinking into the cracks and crevices of his weathered skin.
I blink, masking the shock in my voice as I shove the gun closer to his forehead. "What did you just say?" My voice was monotone even to my own ears, emotionless and detached in the face of my little sister's murderer.
"She was alive." He cackles once more, head thrown back from his position knelt at my feet. "That bitch was alive."
"You're lying."
"No." He hisses, "But I should've killed the bitch when I had the chance, see the life drain from her eyes as I carved into her sweet flesh."
The gunshot is muted in my ears, the ringing echoing around me as I watch the blood splatter the wall behind him. I swallow, letting my hand drop before I wipe my bloody fist on my thigh, turning my back on Jedrik Molotov's body.
The night is freezing when I exit into it, my mind on one destination.
I'm going home.
"Jedrik Molotov hasn't been seen with Dimitri, so it is to my understanding that Dimitri is working alone, or at least without Jedrik. No one has seen Jedrik in months, so it seems he's laying low, so our focus is only on Dimitri at this time." Clay finishes, my blood pumping loudly in my ears.
"What's the plan?" Cleo asks, standing up.
"We're going to go check out Jedrik and Dimitris old haunt, see what we can find."
"Where?"
"The Glass Box was their favourite, we'll start there."
I blink out of the residual memory, feeling eyes on me and ignoring them. "When?" I ask, my eyebrows drawing together in thought.
"We'll start this afternoon."
• • •
I stalk the streets, footsteps almost silent against the pavement, a blanket of dusk coating the quiet street. A pantsuit conforms to my body, thick black material wrapping tightly along my figure, a deep V dipping low to my chest, a peek of cleavage showing.
Cleo walks beside me, bathed in a beautiful emerald dress, a dark haired weave atop her head.
Liam walks slightly behind us, white dress shirt rolled up at to his elbows, exposing the tattoos printed on his skin. His strawberry blonde hair styled in a slicked back look, curling at the nape.
I smooth a hand down my suit, footsteps eating up the distance along the dark street, the sound and chatter of the market down the street coming to life.
The comm in my ear buzzes for a moment before Clay's voice erupts.
"No sign of Volkov or Molotov, or any of their known supporters." He says, his voice crackling over the ear piece.
My eyes track the faces I pass, shopfronts beaming with customers as I hear Liam reply, "Nothing from outside."
I ignore the man behind me, not turning to him as his voice cuts off, walking up the the door of our destination, disappearing inside.
My eyes sweep over the patrons, numerous pairs of eyes swinging towards me, curiosity and lust in their eyes before they see just another blonde girl in their midst, their attention diverted onto bigger and better things, their experiment reaching new highs as the noise in the room builds.
I wind through the patrons, Cleo beside me, her dark eyes bouncing from one face to another as we make our way to the bar, slipping into the stools, our eyes drawn to the glass box situated in the middle of the establishment.
Liam leans behind us, his elbows resting on the bar, eyes sweeping over the patrons, finding three women sitting on the other side of the bar, two blonde and one brunette sitting a bar stool away.
I pull my eyes back to the glass box as a roar tears through the spectators, their hands raised as they stand from their seats in excitement.
A body crashes into the double walled glass, blood hand print left behind before they push off the glass, their sweaty chest heaving up and down with their heavy breaths, blood dripping from a cut on their brow.
Archer blinks, wiping the blood from his vision, breathing out through his mouth slowly as he lifts his hands to block another punch. Moving quickly, he ducks low to avoid another hit and wraps his arms around his opponents neck, slamming his knee into his opponents unprotected stomach, once , twice, three times before pushing him back, the man stumbling into the glass.
"That had to hurt." Cleo murmurs from where she sits beside me, her eyes riveted on the match.
I tilt my head, assessing the fight at her words. "Would knock the breath from you, that's for sure."
"It's just embarrassing, is what you meant to say." Liam says distractedly, turning to look away from the women to stare at Archer and the fighter, "Just break their neck."
"He can't just break his neck, this is a fight not an assassination."
Liam looks appalled, "Does he not want to win?"
"Fairly." Cleo replies.
Liam scoffs, "There's no such thing in our world, be the killer or be killed. That's the truth." He settles into a seat beside us, spinning in a quick circle before facing the bar again. "Besides, it's not fun when nobody croaks it."
I look over my shoulder at him, raising a brow but he only grins. "It's the truth." He sticks to his statement before flicking his head to the three women he was staring at before."
"Which one of those women do you think will give me their number first?"
I quickly scan over the three women, seeing the brunette seated separately from the two blondes, her face stained with a mask of boredom, eyes calculating.
Cleo judges them quickly too before looking back at Liam, "Blonde in the leather pants."
I shake my head, adding my wager. "Both blondes will have their number ready, they've been staring over here for the past three seconds. They're interested." I flick my gaze to the brunette, finding her grey gaze already on mine. "Brunette has been looking over but she's not interested, I would even go so far as to say she will walk away when you talk to her."
Liam narrow his eyes in challenge. "I'm taking those chances." He pushes off his seat, stalking around the bar, his twinkling gaze on the brunettes.
"For his next opponent, we have another newbie." The presenters voice pulls my attention from Liam, focusing back on the box as another man walks through the glass doorway.
Clay flicks his head, pushing the hair from his face, green eyes focused on Archer.
He's shirtless, hands wrapped with fabric, the only piece of cloth on his body besides the shorts sitting low on his hips.
"Holy-"
I flick my gaze to Cleo, seeing the woman practically salivating as she watches Clay.
The match begins between Archer and Clay, the two toying with each other, hidden grins on their faces.
I watch the fight with uninterested eyes, blinking when blood splatters across the glass from a hit delivered by Archer towards the other man. The crowd stands up, bloodthirsty for more.
"What I wouldn't do to be stuck in a room alone with him right now." I hear Cleo mutter, her eyes following Clays every move.
I focus on the man of her fantasies, gaze sweeping down his figure before I look away, uncomfortable.
Clay swings a fist at Archers face, causing him to stumble to the side, flexing his jaw before he swings back.
I force my eyes away from the fight taking place in the glass box, sweeping my eyes over every face in the illegal fight club, searching for anyone familiar.
Liam's comes sulking back, like a puppy with his tail between his legs.
He shoves a napkin at me, two phone number scrawled hastily down on the paper.
I raise my eyes to his. "And the brunette?"
"She told me to fuck off."
Cleo snorts, her eyes going to the brunette with stormy eyes.
The brunette raises a brow at our attention, cynical gaze cutting from one to the other, her gaze snagging on mine before she finds Liam, narrowing her eyes.
He waves back and she pushes off the bar, walking away.
"I'm going to marry that woman, I know it." Liam mutters, watching her walk away.
"Did you even get her name?" Cleo asks, voice incredulous. "You can't marry a ghost, Liam."
"Andromeda." He whispers, grabbing and looking at us with those twinkling blues. "Her name will be Andromeda Carter."
I roll my eyes, "First you have to get her number." I mutter.
"I'll get Clay to find it for me." He shrugs.
"That's called stalking." Cleo replies.
Liam's only grins, shrugging.
My gaze bounces back to the glass box when the announcer calls a winner, his booming voice echoing over the speakers as he screams Clay's name.
A bank echoes across the room, a bullet piercing through the first layer of glass. It shatters, diamond daggers raining down before the bullet pierces the second wall, stopping.
"It's bullet proof." I whisper, my heart pounding as I see Archer on the other side, wide eyes staring at where the bullet stopped, right at his head.