Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 117 - 119

Chapter 117: Chapter 119

My eyes fly to him and his hand flashes up in the air to swat the sordid suggestion. "No, that’s not at all what I meant. I mean it physically. What happens if he stashed something in you? It would be bizarre, but also... ingenious."

My eyes drop to scan myself dramatically. "I think I would remember if he cut me open and—"

The epiphany strikes so hard it knocks my world off axis. "No..."

"Avara?" he urges.

I lift my hand to inspect the old scar meandering around the groove of my palm. It seems all roads lead back to that day... Botan, my mother, and now my father.

"The accident... but he couldn’t have. He would never—"

"There’s only one way to figure it out," he interjects insistently. "There’s an old war buddy of mine, a medic that was assigned to my unit. He can privately examine you and possibly extract whatever he needs to. Lucky for us, he lives near the city. So why don’t you go home and get some rest. I’ll call him in the morning and I’ll reach out. But..."

The pause he leaves suspended in the air as he disappears into the other room. When he returns, the moment resumes as he tosses something at me and I only manage to catch it when it’s at my chest.

"Switch out a new burner phone. Number is programmed in it."

After what Akio told me before he left, I understand his precaution about untraceable communication.

***

My father and brother are at the breakfast table, dishing themselves a serving of eggs and steak strips. I say nothing as I deposit the side plate of sliced avocado. Avoiding eye contact with everyone, I aim for the archway until I’m stopped cold.

"Avara."

The command in his voice latches onto my bones. Locked in place by my own name. The waiting silence that ensues forces me around as I light up an attentive expression. He cuts into a steak strip before using the fork to gesture at the layout.

"You’re not going to eat with us?"

"No," I say too sternly, adjusting my tone, I fix on a small smile. "I have documents to review and a quarterly budget to oversee. Besides, I’m not really that hungry."

"You’re upset," he announces, blunt and unfiltered. "And for a while. You haven’t spoken to your brothers and even our exchanges are tense. As busy as I’ve gotten, it hasn’t gone unnoticed."

"Good for you," I mutter beneath my breath.

"Avara, I’m not always going to explain myself, but I need you to understand one thing," he says solemnly, setting his utensils down to focus on me wholeheartedly. "Everything I’ve done has been for my family, if not for your betterment, than for your safety. Yes, I’ve made grave mistakes—mistakes that your brothers salvaged me from. At the end of the day, I’m still a person who... makes mistakes. And I know that my mistakes have cost you a great deal—"

"Dad—"

"I just don’t want to resent your brothers for holding the water I poured into them," he says obscurely, admitting fault without acknowledging truth. "And I don’t want you to hate me. There’s a lot I can survive, but not that."

A chip of my heart falls into the void in my chest.

"I could never," I say thoughtlessly.

"I can see it in your eyes, my little love," he says with sincere sadness, a sincerity that makes me almost feel special. A rueful smile threads through his lips. "You don’t look at me the same."

"A lot has changed," I concede. "My blood has not, my duty has not and my love cannot. Whatever bitterness exists is reserved for the Vacherons."

Dark shadows befall them all as all three of them trade ominous looks, suddently appearing on the verge of violence.

"But the alliance is over," I say to bring them back from the edge. "They’re out of my life at least, and that’s enough for me."

My father expels the darkness with a stellar smile. "A small mercy, not enough to make up for all you went through."

My eyes dip beneath his gaze.

"What I wanted to tell you over breakfast was that my office was contacted. A benefactor asked for you personally and I took the liberty of organising a meeting. My secretary set it up for this early afternoon. I think he was quite impressed by your charity program. Or that Colton Vacheron made a sizable donation that has other billionaires wanting to pay their own tribute."

"You can send me the details and I’ll prepare what I have to," I say to put a firm but fair end to our interaction.

"I can come with you," Silas volunteers quickly.

"Kind of you," I say with a fake smile and a flat stare. "But I’m good on my own."

The cold ambiguity in my voice makes him falter. Luciano doesn’t even look at me before I walk out. I head upstairs and I close the door behind me. The burner phone I have from Simon tucked away in hiding. My phone sits free on the bedside table. I retrieve it to make a call to Kelsey.

After a few short rings, she answers, "I was just thinking about you."

A touch of sweetness to hear her voice again. "How’s Aunt Jay?"

"My mom won’t let me leave, literally," she says with a laugh. "I won’t have to since I kinda have to start from scratch again. The Vacherons had everything lined up for me, all in a neat bow. But after everything, I don’t want their help. It’s not good business, but it’s personal."

"You don’t have to do that because of me."

"Don’t even try to talk me out of it," she chides, and I can even envision the irritation pinching at her brows. "I got to where I am with my own brand and boutique on my own. You be damn sure I can get an investor to fund my shows, too."

An unmatchable mentality.

"I have some good news," I say, recalling Akio’s words, his instructions that tell me they’ve tapped my phone, and he has likely been listening to my calls all this time. Him or his people. "The people who attacked the wedding. They’ve been found and dealt with, but that’s obviously something you won’t hear about."

A beat of silence.

"Was it—"

"It was him, yes," I say swiftly. "So I guess we’re safe again."

"Are you?"

"He would never hurt me." A belief as sacred as scripture and as pure as a sinner’s stained hands. "All the men I know, trusted, even loved and hurt me intentionally. Some even looked into my eyes whilst they did it. He was the only one who couldn’t and never meant to. I can’t forget what he did, but with all I’m learning... I’m starting to understand."

A thoughtful hum before she inhales a deep breath. "Does that mean you... miss him?"

"Regrettably."

The only bright spot is the benefactor. I’ve been so engrossed in my own problems, I’ve neglected those of others. Granted, I was healing for most of the period I was away. But now I get to focus on garnering more support and aid packages for people who really need it. My charity programs that I run under my father’s name are affiliated with global humanitarian organisations. So fortunately everything is more automated where I’m fortunate to have a staff of volunteers who have been running things in my absence.

I’m just grateful to do my part.

***

When I reach the fourth floor of the office building, I strut over to the receptionist’s desk. I understand the industrial aesthetic or minimalist design, but the interior is so dreary and bland. My eyes jump to a few black and white abstract paintings and the single steel ornament on the peaked desk.

"Hi, I’m here for my appointment with Walter Mire?"

The receptionist smiles politely as she consults her computer. I wait patiently as I take in everything, and it’s obviously not much. My eyes stray back to the ornament and my focus honing on the reflection as a second figure emerges behind me. My face slackens as terror thunders through me before I duck—the current skimming over me harmlessly as I swivel away. Only to be slammed into a wall with a hand locked on my throat. And I execute the move Simon taught me almost flawlessly. I trap his wrist against my chest with one hand and slam my other arm down in a sharp arc, striking the crook of his elbow. And I don’t stop there—I drive my knee up toward his gut. A grunt as he twitches back and I break free, only to see the receptionist hold a taser level to my chest.

The moment the prongs hit, it’s like a live wire explodes inside me. A violent, searing jolt rips through my body, bypassing skin and muscle and striking straight into my nerves.

My heart is like a jackhammer against my ribs, and my lungs burn as I finally suck in a ragged breath. Every nerve feels singed, like I’ve been cooked from the inside out. The world tilts as I collapse to the ground.