12. Tristian
Chapter twelve
Tristian
The thud of my knuckles against the heavy bag was the only thing keeping me grounded. I threw another right hook, the impact vibrating up my arm and rattling my teeth, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise.
I was drowning in fury and humiliation. My father, that fucking bastard. He had actually done it. He’d put a handler on me.
And Ingrid, the woman I’d let behind my walls, the one who made me feel like I could finally breathe, was the one who took the job. She wasn’t just a girl I’d met; she was an employee. A babysitter. A spy.
I threw one more punch, a desperate, lunging strike that sent the bag spinning, and let out a jagged sigh. I was angry at her for the lie, but I was fucking livid at myself for opening up.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but there was no sanctuary there. Her face was etched into the back of my eyelids—the soft curve of her jaw, the way she looked at me like I actually mattered. She used to make me want to protect her. Now, she just made me want to burn everything down.
“Ingrid... Get out of my head,” I whispered to the empty gym.
I opened my eyes, glaring at the red leather of the bag as if it were the source of my torment. The air in the gym felt too thick to breathe. I groaned, rubbing my face, but every time I blinked, she was there.
“Get the fuck out of my head, Ingrid.”
I launched back into the bag, a frantic sequence of blows, as if I could destroy the mental image etched into my brain. It didn’t work. Each strike felt like I was hitting a ghost.
A low growl ripped from my throat.
She wasn’t going anywhere.
I ripped off my gloves, the Velcro screaming in the silence, and grabbed my hair, squeezing my eyes shut until I saw stars.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD.”
It was the same torture I’d endured nights ago, tossing and turning, unable to escape the thought of her. I didn’t want anything to do with her—I shouldn’t want anything to do with her—and yet she clouded everything. I dropped my hands, my lungs heaving.
“Whoa, I thought that was someone else making all that noise, but it turns out it’s just you.”
I froze, looked over my shoulder. Amber was strolling across the empty gym, her eyes scanning me with a predatory sort of curiosity.
“Amber?”
“The one and only.” A smug smile played on her lips.
I didn’t have the energy for her shit. I turned my back, walking over to the bench to grab my phone. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, it’s been a while since I heard from you, and it’s been hard trying to get a hold of you. Thought I’d come for a visit.”
“Got bored of Kane?” I didn’t look up from my screen.
Amber laughed as she sauntered her way to me, closing the distance again. “Oh, I could never get bored of Kane. But sometimes…”
She trailed her fingers up my forearm. “A woman needs a little variety.”
I stepped away, but she still let out a little coo. “Ooh, such big muscles. You’ve really worked up a sweat. How about you help me work up a sweat, too?”
I shoved my phone into my pocket, grabbed up my bag and gloves. “Fuck off.”
I strode toward the locker rooms.
Amber’s huff followed. “Tristian, I know you have something on your mind.”
My jaw tightened. I couldn’t stand how she tried to read me. “I always have something on my mind.”
“I know this something has to do with Ingrid.”
I stopped dead in the middle of the gym. I turned back to Amber, my blood beginning to simmer. She shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
“I heard you shouting about wanting something out of your head,” she smirked, closing the distance between us again, her hips swaying.
“Figured it must be her, after how you looked her when she got her top wet at the boxing match and coddled her after. Just why she of all people would be stuck in your head, I have no idea, but—”
“Why are you here, Amber?” I crossed my arms, my patience snapping.
“Look… I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with her and I’m letting you know... she isn’t good enough for you.”
She stepped into my space, her perfume engulfed the space around us, suffocating me.
“Tristian... Ingrid knows nothing, and I mean nothing... of what the real world is. Her father holds her by a rope, and once she tries to pull, he takes her right back in...” She reached up, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“What does that have to do with you?” I asked, my voice flat.
“You and I both know I could offer you more than what she ever could or can.”
I should have pushed her off.
Once I made the move to, she kissed me.
Her tongue probed for mine—
And I shoved her back, hard.
“Leave…”
Amber frowned, trying to reach out again. “Tristian, I—”
I turned, the words tearing out of me with enough force to shake the walls. “GET. THE FUCK. OUT.”
She didn’t wait for a third suggestion. Amber hurried for the exit, only turning back as she passed through the threshold to shoot me a hurt look.
The silence rang. I stood there, gasping for air, and buried my face in my hands. I gripped my hair until my scalp stung, closing my eyes and begging the universe for the one thing I knew I couldn’t have, but who I knew I would have to face soon enough when my father summoned me to his office.
Get out of my head. Please, get out of my head.
Ingrid
The air in Noah Locke’s office suite was cold, a sharp contrast to the heat of the tattoo parlor I had gotten used to.
I sat on the edge of the leather chair, my hands knotted in my lap to hide their trembling.
I’d been summoned just after noon, and now I waited for him to appear, and dictate the next move in this elaborate game I’d been forced into, bracing for whatever came next in this “partnership.”
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Tristian fleeing from the event last night. I heard his accusing words echoing: that I’d gotten close, under his skin, made him trust me—led him on.
That I was his handler.
That I was groomed.
My face fell. I’d been up half the night crying. I’d wanted to call Tristian, to beg him to understand… but I hadn’t. I’d been scared to. And he was right, at least on that last part: I had been groomed to be his handler.
The heavy mahogany door creaked open. I looked over my shoulder, my heart leaping into my throat, only to see Mr. Locke. He didn’t look like a man whose son was spiraling; he looked like a man who had just won the lottery.
I did my best to smile politely. “Good afternoon, Mr. Locke...” I said softly, my voice barely catching in the quiet room.
He chuckled a dry sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “It is a good afternoon, isn’t it?”
He took his time walking toward his desk, his presence filling the room with an oppressive authority. “Tristian is in the building, if you didn’t know... and as you can probably guess, he isn’t very cheerful today. I put him in his own office, and he’s destroyed half of it, to say the least.”
The words had barely left his mouth when a sudden crash came from down the hall. I jumped, my eyes widening as I looked toward the door. The sound of Tristian’s anger was audible, even through the soundproofed walls.
Noah didn’t even flinch. He seemed… used to this even. He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on me, cold and assessing. “Your job is to keep him out of this state and get him focused, yes?”
It wasn’t a question; it was a reminder of the role I had agreed to play.
“Y-yes... I suppose it is...” I whispered.
Noah nodded, looking entirely bored by the destruction occurring just down the hall. He gestured toward the door with a flick of his wrist.
“Well, consider this your first task. Go calm him down.”