One Breath, One Bullet (The Borders War #1)

Chapter 10

Armise and I had met through the scopes of our rifles and sometimes I wondered if that was also where we'd end. In other moments, like this one, with Armise's laughter rumbling through me like an aftershock, I was sure of it.

The president finished speaking and Armise stood, his shoulders snapping proudly back, drawing himself up to his full, intimidating height. He found me in the crowd immediately, as if he was always aware of where I was. A dangerous grin stretched across his scarred face. That was when my anticipation morphed into dread.

The president quickly moved on to other tasks. He stood, glanced past Armise as if the behemoth next to him didn't exist now that their conversation was finished, and moved up the stands, stopping to greet other dignitaries. The whole encounter had taken less than five minutes, but in that time I'd gone from a front runner to prey and everyone knew it.

The press corps swarmed Armise as soon as his feet touched the arena floor. They asked him what the president had said to him. Why he appeared so confident.

I was forgotten in the rush.

I'd known this moment was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. The president wasn't going to kill me outright. That solution was too conspicuous even for a man as powerful as the president. Neither devious nor cruel enough. He was going to have me beaten into submission, my fingers crushed, so there would be no way I could fire the first bullet. That he was choosing Armise to take the power from my hands was fitting in more ways than I could count.

Throwing Armise into the mix was going to make my mission that much more difficult. My own president had just publicly turned his back on me. But it only made sense. If rumor was true, I was the hired gun of the Opposition. The same Opposition seeking a permanent end to the president's rule and hoping to deliver a fatal blow to the Revolution.

And, unfortunately for the president, the rumor was true.

I just hadn't expected Armise to be the one standing between my target and me. Or expected him to be so gleeful at the prospect. But it was a scenario I was more familiar with than not.

Armise ignored the press as they crowded in against him, seeking a sound bite. He crossed the space between us in wide, determined steps, his uniform showcasing a body that projected strength and dominance.

For a moment all I could think of was the taste of sweat on his skin when he'd showed up unannounced in my room last night. The curl of my fingers into hard muscle as I dragged him close, thumbs digging into that defined line that ran from his waist down to his uncut cock. His hot breath on my neck while he demanded that I fuck him.

To hold that power in my hands, to challenge it, consume it and have control over it, was my addiction. One that I knew was killing me, but I hadn't been able to combat. And with my death only hours away, none of that mattered anymore.

Armise's black hair was slicked back, his beard neatly trimmed and professional. The gray streaks in his hair and beard glinted under the arena lights. His eyes were bluer today than I'd ever seen them, reflecting the cobalt panels of the People's Continent of Singapore, as if he'd been born to be inexorably tied to that country.

I watched the president stop in the stands to greet the Premiere of Singapore—the leader Armise was sworn to protect. Armise noted the exchange too, and stopped to recognize Premiere Jarrah Jae. He took the sonicrifle from his shoulder, placed the stock next to his right foot in the at-ease position then bowed deeply. Both the president and premiere acknowledged him with a nod.

The press corps swarmed around Armise like a hive around its queen—at a respectful distance that recognized the power before them. He handed his rifle over to a trainer who appeared at his side and disappeared just as quickly. I was thrown that I didn't notice the sign he gave to make that happen. I couldn't afford to miss anything. Not now. Armise knew me too well. He knew my fighting style almost as well as his own. If I was going to survive to complete my mission then I had to be stronger than him. Faster. Smarter.

Armise didn't offer his hand when he stopped in front of me and I didn't offer mine. We'd been in this situation before. Face to face or rifle to rifle, the location and the time changed but never the circumstance. Our skill sets were synchronous. Together we would make the perfect team. And yet neither of us would be considered successful until the other was dead.

He waited for the press to gather around us before he spoke. The horde hushed itself in expectation, their disguised faces swiveling between Armise and me, waiting to document our every word. Armise stepped into my personal space, tried to crowd me back, but I held my ground. His gaze bored into me, amused and resilient. This close to him, I could pick out every line that etched the corners of his eyes. Lines that I'd watched appear and deepen with each passing year.

When Armise finally chose to speak his voice carried through the still deathly silent arena. Even though his speech was formal and practiced, his accent gave away his upbringing in a mountainous Singaporean peasant village. "Your president wishes for me to extend good luck to you in the competition this evening, and to tell your coach that he is grateful for the information provided to the Olympic Committee this morning. He eagerly awaits the official announcement of you as front runner. Of course, as a new friend of the States"—he gestured to the stands where the president and premiere were hunched together, talking in hushed tones, the dynamic between them one of ease—"I will be ready to stand in should you be unable to attend the opening ceremonies."

Armise's threat was neither thin nor veiled.

The press corps hummed behind us, recording each word. If I listened hard enough I imagined I could hear the footage being transmitted across the globe.

Before I could open my mouth to respond, the president's guards surrounded me. Armise moved off to the side, his arms crossed, a smile playing on his lips. There were five guards boxing me in. Two behind me, three in front, and it was the one directly in front of me who spoke for them. "The president wishes to see you in his quarters."

I didn't bother to look over my shoulder at Niaz. He knew this wasn't going to end well for me, considering it was the counterstrike we'd been waiting for. I saw the president exiting out a door behind the stands. But no matter what the guard was saying, the president and I were not headed to the same place.

I didn't have to readjust my posture or bring myself up to my full height. What the press corps, and viewers across the world, would see was a man who was fearless.

I made a point to keep my face neutral until the guard finished speaking and Armise focused his attention back on me. Only then did I let a slow smile go. I pulled the piercing in my bottom lip between my teeth, thinking about the taste of Armise's cock in my mouth last night. The movement was quick and deliberate. Armise had once told me there was nothing more sinful than my lips around his dick and I knew he was thinking about that moment right now. He didn't move or respond, but his jaw ticked and I knew I'd gotten to him.

Today I would end this dangerous addiction and sever the one connection I had allowed to make me weak for too long. Armise had no idea who the players were, let alone what game we were all playing. He was disposable and would be even more so when he failed to keep me off the opening ceremony platform.

I rolled my head on my shoulders, cracking my neck and motioning for the guards to proceed. I followed them without hesitation, leaving Niaz, Armise, and a buzzing press corps in my wake.