Chase Me

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Accord

Bellona

I watched, glued to my place on the floor, as Amo snatched the note from Nex's hands, opened it, and began to read. I saw his eyes flicker over the pages, go over every word and sentence and with that, I saw his grip on the paper tighten. Nex's eyes were still on me and the worry in them was making me uncomfortable. I marched over to them and stood in front of Amo. He didn't lift his gaze but I knew from the stillness in his eyes that he was done reading. His jaw was clenched tight and he was so still, that I wasn't sure he was breathing.

I reached for the note but he pulled it away. He finally looked at me. "You can't read this."

"The hell I can." I went for it again but Amo held my shoulder. "No, Kallistê. You can't."

His eyes were genuine, but there was a simmering fury in them. I looked at Nex then back at Amo. "He is looking at me as if any second now I am going to drop dead and there will be no reason why." I looked at Nex. "What's written in the note?"

His eyes flickered to Amo. "I'm sorry Miss. Maeve, I can't tell you–"

I turned to Amo, my hands clenched at my sides. His gaze slowly drifted from Nex to me. "This has something to do with me, so spill, Amo. I want to know—I need to know. If this is as important as both of your expressions are implying, then I need to know."

He tried to touch my shoulder but I pulled away. "I have as much of a vendetta against the Moralesess as you, so tell me."

Amo was looking at me, actual worry in his eyes. "I can't Bellona, I–"

I lunged at him and yanked the note from his grasp. He tried to pull it back but I ran to the other side of the bed. He was faster than I thought and I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I tried to move but he held me like iron bars. "No. Stop, Bellona."

I tried again. "Let go of me, Amo."

He reached for the note but I held my grip as he tried to pry it from my fingers. I let him and spun around so that I was facing him in his armed prison. He towered over me but I raised my chin, trying to gather more height. "As the Heiress to Chicago, I demand, you show me this."

Nothing. Not even amusement flickered over his face. I brought my hands up and held his shoulders. His eyes followed the movements before returning to my face. I gripped his shoulders. "As your fiancée, then. Tell me."

That got a reaction out of him. Not one that I anticipated. His brows narrowed. "Fiancée?" His eyes went to my left hand and I didn't have time to cover my fingers before he snatched the hand and raised it to be at my eye level. "Then where is your ring?" his own flashed before me.

The guilt in me rose, but I did not give it the time of day. I yanked my wrist out of his grip and tried to pull away from him, but he wrapped his arms around me tighter. I looked over his shoulder and saw the door was closed and Nex had gone, probably to give us some privacy. I faced Amo again. "You said you'd help me. You'd help with my mission."

I felt Amo's arms around me pull me closer. I didn't stop him. I could feel his hard chest rising and falling under my hands, in long, hard breaths. "I don't want to tell you what's in the note. Please, Bellona." My eyes shot to him. "Please, don't make me."

My eyes turned to see the note in his hand. I didn't go for it. If it was that bad...

"Summarize." I focussed my attention on his face again. "Leave the ugly details, just tell me what I need to know."

At that, I saw and felt some tension leave him. He nodded once. "Okay. But I feel like we should sit down." His eyes did that flickering thing again, going from my eyes to my lips. "I can't focus with you that close to me."

The only reaction I could give him was a nod. His arms untangled themselves and he headed for the bed with me at his heels. We sank down onto the mattress and Amo didn't wait any longer before speaking. "Adrian Morales found Will in the coffee shop. They took him away for a proper burial but he was angry, obviously, about how his son looked."

A chill ran through me but I rolled my shoulders back, chin defiantly high. "What did he look like?"

I saw Amo debate not telling me but from the way I was looking at him, I gave him no choice but to comply. He exhaled a long breath. "He was missing teeth and had a busted lip along with a nearly-swollen eye. His tongue was missing, which they would find in the pocket of his jacket, and a few fingers I decided to remove too." Amo opened his mouth to speak again, but I could see the battle going on in his head about whether or not he should leave out the next detail. He didn't. "I pulled out his gold tooth and shoved it into his right eye. It was more for making a statement than harm." His eyes that were so intently looking at the comforter finally met mine. "Everything I did to him, I did for a reason. His cut-out tongue was because he would never be able to speak those foul words to you again."

His eyes flared so brightly that I had to resist looking away. He said every word without breaking eye contact, and every word came out sharper and sharper. "His fingers so he would never touch you again. And his two eyes, now blind, so he would never be able to look at you again."

I was holding my breath, holding it so fiercely because I could breathe properly with him looking at me like that. Amo raised his chin slightly. "I made sure I left a mark on him. A mark so grand that it's going to be impossible to have an open-casket ceremony with what I did to his face." He leaned forwards slightly and his hand moved with him, reaching out to grip my hip. His eyes stayed glued there. "I branded him. The New York Mob's symbol is driven all over his face with so much force, I know that when that fucker is rotting in the ground, the blade marks will be on his bones, presented to the insects who come by to eat the sorry-fuck." He paused, thinking about his next words. "I'm sure God will know that I did this to him. Amo Griffin did this." His eyes faced me again and a fire shone in them, brighter than the light coming into the room through the crack in the curtains and brighter than anything that I'd seen before. "And I'm not sorry. Not one fucking bit."

I slowly placed my hand over his, a feeling of redemption and pride in his actions. It was twisted, I know. It was wrong, I know. But honestly, blood is paid by blood and nothing but that is true.

"I'm not sorry you did that either," I said in a voice foreign to me. "I want to know what is the next step."

Amo removed his hand and my own felt bare. "He said he has eyes on you. He said that I started a game that was bigger than myself." He let out a mirthless laugh. "He's got another thing coming." He leaned close to me. "You need to go after Adrian's last living son, Robert Morales, yes?" His voice had a grim sense of play to it. "I need to get to Adrian."

He reached his hand out. "Alright, Kallistê, want to make this official? Heir of New York and Heiress of Chicago, working together for nothing but cold, bitter-sweet revenge?"

The idea nearly brought my own gruesome smile to my face. I didn't hesitate one bit. I gripped his hand with my own, the memory of what we did in the bathroom coming straight to the front of my mind. My light-headedness and hunger for the revenge I needed, let my tongue slip and words spill out. "After, we'll go back to where we left off."

That made him grin. "No. We'll continue after this."

I had to restrain an embarrassed smile at his words. He came close, then. "As you said, today is a break. Tomorrow we start, but today." His other hand inched up under the hem of my shirt. "I'm going to enjoy today."

We shook, my hand a bit shaky, and I knew that somewhere out there, Adrian and Robert Morales felt a chill roll down their backs as we certified their death wish with a shake of a hand.

"We are really messed up," I said breathlessly as his fingers inched higher.

He smiled, eyes moving from his hand to my face. "The worst of the worst."