The World We Live In | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 ♤

Chapter 30

Cristine moved through the corridors of the pantry. Her footsteps echoed against the cold concrete as she followed the glow of the light near the weaponry. It was where she found Troy. His tall frame was outlined by the bright lamp, casting shadows that danced around him. Metallic clinks and snaps echoed in the area, together with grunts of aggression. Slowing down in her strides, Cristine watched his movements as he cradled the rifle, his fingers moving with practiced precision as he inspected the gun. Her eyes traced the tense lines of his shoulders and the determined set of his jaw. The focused intensity in Troy's motions was loaded. The way his hands moved swiftly, yet purposefully, spoke of a mind engrossed in a dangerous task. The weapon molded perfectly against his grip as if it were an extension of his limb.

Cristine paused and furrowed her brows before she released a sigh. With calculated patience, she reminded herself that this was Troy's way of coping, a desperate attempt to regain control of what he felt he lost. But in her patience, she also knew his way of doing this was wrong. There was a fine line he was treading, and Troy let it get the better of him by giving in to his impulse. Cristine rolled her shoulders back, and her voice cut through. "Having a weapon on you right now will only scare others."

A loud click echoed when Troy undid the ammunition holder. He didn't turn around and seemed more interested in the beautiful tool, offering him solace. "They already do. Maybe now it'll make them understand to stay out of my damn way," he retorted, his grip on the riffle tightening.

Cristine crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm sure beating Dax into the ground already did that." Another loud click echoed through the pantry as Troy slipped a few clips around his belt. His every move, previously a storm of restless aggression, turned methodical as he holstered the rifle. His fingers, which had been quick and precise, now moved with slow intent as if storing the weapon held a profound meaning. Once Troy was done, he finally turned around. His face crumbled into an amalgamation of anger and a touch of exasperation. The light that had previously outlined his silhouette now cast long shadows across his features, highlighting the piercing blue of his eyes even more.

Cristine sensed that Troy's anger had not diminished; it had taken a different form. While looking at her, he clutched a final metallic casing, which jingled like a haunting tune as he tucked it into his pocket holder against his back. Troy's lips tightened into a thin line, his eyebrows furrowing deeply. His jaw clenched, and he emitted a low, skeptical grunt responding to her comment. "Well, Dax should have followed orders instead of-" he started, his voice desperate to deflect the conversation away from his turmoil.

"Cut the crap, Troy," Cristine shot back, her patience finally wearing thin with him trying to shift the blame. "What the hell was that back there?"

Troy's nostrils flared, his gaze locked onto Cristine's, and he couldn't help but scoff mockingly. "I know what you're trying to do, Cristine, and we're not turning this into another one of your stupid psychoanalysis sessions of me." He took a step closer, closing the distance between them. Troy knew how to use his physical presence to assert dominance. In the past, it was a tactic he'd often used against Cristine when they did more than just argue. But this time, it manifested into a rather desperate attempt for him to regain control over anything- over someone.

It was unfortunate that Cristine was that someone this time.

All the muscles in Cristine's forehead scrunched when she registered Troy's words and saw him draw close. Her slim shoulders squared instantly; she raised her chin and glared coldly in his chilling blue irises. Cristine had been on the receiving end of Troy's intimidation countless times, and like all those times, she wouldn't allow it. Her voice was a venomous hiss. "Then work through your bullshit so that we don't have to recycle that stupid conversation we had hours ago!"