The Start of Pain

Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: All I own is the plot to both The Start of Train and The Start of Pain. I don't own The 39 Clues. It belongs to the awemazing authors XD

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Chapter 3

Victoria, dubbed by the team as ‘Veronica’, stared at him, even though she knew that no amount of intent looking would make him look back at her. He was too preoccupied with making blueprints or whatever for his next big, diabolical plan. Seriously, she does not understand why he has to go through all this profligacy. A word here that was used as, ‘extravagance to the point of recklessness and wastefulness’. Alex has been exerting more than necessary effort in making the Cahills miserable. Not to mention he’s undergoing some sort of solipsism which originally means the way of thinking wherein one’s own mind is the only sure thing to subsist. But in Alex’ case, it simply means he’s an egotistical idiot who thinks everything he comes up with is foolproof and ours would surely fail one way or the other, Victoria thought glumly. And she probably shouldn’t mention how the entire Council feeds this insanity by actually funding it.

Extravagance. Recklessness. Wastefulness.

She cleared her throat.

No response. Which, again, is nowhere near unexpected.

Victoria ran an overwrought hand across her unevenly cut, raven-black hair. She tapped her foot impatiently on the carpeted floor and crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey. Alex,” she said in a tone that clearly demands for attention.

After a few more scribbles, Alex sighed exasperatedly. Without looking up from his work, he said, “You knocked on my door and told me you wanted to talk to me about something of utmost importance. That was thirty-two minutes ago.” He glanced swiftly at his watch, barely looking at it. “What is it you wanted to say?” He fixed his intense stare at her, using the look that made people want to run away as far as possible.

The forceful magnet his amber eyes had on her had always been able to make her feel... all warm inside. That was before. Sometime long ago. When they were little and things were simpler and most especially, when they weren’t an elite group of young people trying to kill a five-hundred-or-so-year-old family out of vengeance and world domination. Those years that seemed so fuzzy and unclear to her these days, like they never even happened. Now those eyes were nothing but cold, golden orbs, taunting her to make a mistake, scrutinizing her every move. In fact, during the human chess game, she noticed how darker his eyes are than those of his brother’s. She steadied her gaze, clenching her fists behind her. “Don’t you think we’re giving the Kabra girl an overdose?” she said slowly, having practiced that line on the way to his room ten times before asking him.

Alex heaved a sigh (one nearing irritation), the way teachers do when they have spent so many times explaining the lesson to her naughty students and nothing gets through them. “No. I don’t think so,” he replied sadly and quite openly.

Her heavily-lined eyelids fluttered unnervingly with the way things are going. “I think, she’s already losing her memories and –“

“That’s what you think,” he interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Apparently, that’s what I don’t see.”

Her nails dug deeper into her palms. This is so not how she played out the scenario in her head. In her head, she was winning and he was admitting defeat. Yeah, fat chance. “An overdose could be fatal and it could ki -“

“What?” Alex raised an atrocious eyebrow at her, one that does not hear mercy. He looked mildly interested at her statement and interlaced his fingers like a business associate. “It could what?”