Is This Enough ||MxM || Lgbtq+

Chapter 17

Blair's P.O.V

"Your secret is safe with me, Chad," I said. before concluding our conversation.

This was his third call this week asking me about the wager. Not everyone had the luxury of polo weekends.

I arose from my desk and made my way to the basement. My team engaged in pinpointing politicians, affluent aristocrats, and any individual who took advantage of the helpless.

Walking towards the rear office, I tapped on a door before entering. Inside, I found Quinton sunk deep in a chair, studying a pile of documents with exasperation plastered on his face.

My fingers lingered on his shoulder, softly kneading the tension away. Not for his sake, but for mine. I needed the contact, even if I'd never admit that out loud.

"Have we tracked down my father yet, baby?" I asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice. It came out too smooth, too polished. Practiced. Like everything else I'd had to learn to survive.

Quinton looked up from the pile of documents, his eyes meeting mine with a kind of quiet resolve that made my chest tighten. "No, not yet," he said, voice low but steady. "But we're getting closer. It's only a matter of time."

I nodded, biting back the flood of memories that threatened to rise. My mother's silence, the coldness of that house. The way her eyes looked the other way.

"Good. He's been a ghost too long. Time to pull him out of the shadows."

I dropped onto his lap and curled an arm around his neck. The gesture was automatic, but part of me recoiled at how easy it was to mimic intimacy. It felt foreign. Dangerous even. The last person who claimed to love me hurt me.

The flowing strands of his dark, long dreadlocks hung down his face, framing his deep, chocolate-coloured eyes.  "What about Vinicius? Have you talk to him?"

I grinned, but it didn't reach my eyes. "Yep. That piece is off the board."

"Blair..." He hesitated, his thumb brushing my arm like he was trying to ground me. "I get that you're angry about your father's actions, but you need to be careful. You're playing with fire here. You should bring Vinicius in before going after your father."

"I appreciate the concern, but no." My voice sharpened, low and cold. "Vinicius is the appetiser, and my dad is the entree.. And I'm starving."

There it was again. That flash of something behind Quinton's eyes. Fear? Pity? Neither sat well with me.

"I know what he did," he said gently. "What they both did."

My jaw tightened. "You don't know," I said. "You read the reports. That's not knowing. That's observing from the safety of someone else's pain."

He stayed silent. Smart man. My father taught me what monsters look like and how easy it is to become one.

Straddling the line between chaotic malevolence and a warped idea of being just, the destitute saw me as their last chance, a beacon of assurance in the face of seemingly unbeatable odds.

He sighed, aware that I wasn't going to be dissuaded. "Taking down a crooked politician is a completely different ballgame. You need to make sure all your moves planned out, or you might get burned."

"Don't worry babe. I've been planning this for a long time. I won't let anything go wrong." I kissed his cheek, "I'll leave you too it."

I walked out, closing the door on my way. As I stepped out into the garden, a smirk of satisfaction spread across my face. The bird feeder, out of place among the shadows that surrounded me, hung from a strong branch. I filled it with food. Like moths to a flame, they flocked to it.

I observed them with envy and disdain. They achieved the serenity I desired, living out effortless lives.

A fleeting look of longing crossed my face, one that exposed a vulnerability that I rarely showed. I yearned to be part of their liberty, to be able to fly freely, free from the intricacies of my own identity. But freedom wasn't given. Not to me.
Not when your cage looks like a kitchen, and your warden wears your mother's smile.

And then, with a sudden shift in demeanour, my expression hardened. "Enjoy your meal, my little feathered friends," I said with a hint of irony, "But be aware, it's a cruel world out there and only the strongest will prevail."

My speech attested to the shroud of darkness that  enveloped my spirit. Mama let him hurt me. Over and over. And then smiled at me like I was supposed to love her for it.

Brutality gained respect and authority. All of us had a tiny sliver of evil deep down. Whether it grew was a choice. I gave mine an abundance of sustenance.

I appreciate you taking the time to read this chapter. We were able to gain some insight into the motivations behind Blair's behaviour. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.

This is Blair