They Who Slaughtered Hope 🌈| Slow Updates/Editing

Chapter 12

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𝚁𝚎𝚗

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𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

Ren scowled. He regretted how the situation had turned out. Why couldn't the florist be as gullible as his mother? Why did he have to complicate things? The sniper didn't have enough time to come up with a convincing response, and it was all Lennox's fault. Or was it his own, for not planning ahead?

He took in a deep breath and shook off his ambivalence. The sniper was an adept liar, he would just have to wing it. "You don't remember? You had a little too much to drink at the party and followed me when I left to get some air. Things escalated, obviously, but somehow, we were kidnapped by the Syndicate. I managed to get us out, but only by a hair." he cued the concerned, lamentful look, and voila, he checked all the boxes. The roof, the timing, it all fit.

"What... What did the Syndicate do to me?" Lennox's shaky voice inquired. "I... I can't recollect any of it."

The florist's mother was wringing her hands, probably torn between comforting her son or leaving him be.

Ren returned to his eggs. "I'm not sure. I've heard their tech is pretty good, so I assume they must have tampered with your memory." That wasn't a lie, at least. "Where do you keep your plates?"

"Cupboard to your right. And how do I know I can trust your words? How do I know you aren't one of them?"

Ren gave him a cynical glance and turned off the stove. "What, photograph footage isn't proof enough? What more do you need?"

Across from him, the florist's lips were pursed. "Just... how drunk was I? Maybe that's why—"

Before he could finish, Ren set down the filled plates and traversed the distance separating them. He leaned towards the blond, his hands grasping the countertop and trapping Lennox between the countertop and the sniper. "Drunk enough to kiss me," Ren whispered in his ear, and the florist's breath hitched. "I can jog your memory, if you'd like."

A tinge of colour painted his face. "Stop it, my mother's watching," Lennox hissed, observing him and the shirt he wore from the corner of his eyes.

Ren had worn the florist's shirt on purpose, and he revelled in the fact that its purpose had been served to its fullest potential.

"Whatever I—we did that night, it means nothing. I was drunk. So don't get it into your head that we're something, because we're not. Do you honestly think that the wasted stranger you had a one-off with can fulfil all your needs the day after? You're delusional. I can't even recall your name, much less any feelings I may have harboured for you at that moment." Lennox paused before adding, "Besides, I'm straight."

The sniper wouldn't believe him, not after what he had seen for himself.

"Liar. You sure had a hell of a time shoving your tongue down my throat in public last night." He licked the edge of his lip. "Name is Renato, thanks for asking."

Ren didn't know if he could ever get used to the name, despite his smart remarks.

Lennox was not amused, but the vermillion in his face still heightened a few shades. "Get out of my house."

"Blimey, I wish I could, but I have nowhere else to go. You wouldn't let your boyfriend roam the streets in a war like this, would you?"

Mitsan had reasoned that Wade would be more inclined to welcome a seemingly weak girl into his home if anyone at all. Ren thought the notion was bullshit. And to think Wade heralded the Verita Aser leader as his queen. He found the irony disgusting.