27. Amala
Twenty Seven
Amala
Chamomile tea always calmed me down, and God knew I needed it.
My heart was still hammering against my ribcage after what had happened between us only minutes ago.
I exhaled slowly, lifting the cup to my lips and took a cautious sip. I held it between both hands, my feet planted firmly on the footrest of the barstool.
My eyes wandered from the kitchen toward the living room. Ares’ house had shocked me to my core.
The décor was minimalist yet sleek, everything neat, tidy, and deliberately placed.
During my last visit, I hadn’t paid much attention to my surroundings, but now, with sunlight filtering through the blinds and nothing but silence accompanying me, my eyes had the freedom to wander.
The color scheme was predominantly black and grey, broken only by stainless-steel appliances and the occasional pop of red.
My gaze drifted toward the coffee table, where magazines and loose papers had been stacked neatly beside a lone candle.
That’s when I noticed something slightly out of place.
A manila folder.
Tucked beneath the stack of papers, almost as though it had been deliberately hidden.
My brows furrowed, I set my cup on the countertop then hopped off the stool and moved closer.
We weren’t allowed to take case files from the Bureau and this certainly looked like a case file.
I could have been wrong though.
I slowly pulled the folder free, careful not to disturb the stack above it. Something about this didn’t feel right.
My intuition was practically clawing against my skin, slowly ripping me from the inside out.
I opened the folder and my heart nearly stopped.
A bright red confidential stamp stared back at me.
I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting Ares to materialise behind me like some entity from a horror movie.
Nothing.
I flipped the folder open as adrenaline surged through my veins.
My eyes widened as they landed on the name printed across the first page.
Rodrigo Montes.
My father.
I didn’t remember much about him anymore. Not his face. Not the sound of his voice. Not the little details that should have remained etched into a daughter’s memory— but I’d never forgotten his name.
When my parents were married, I carried his surname. Amala Montes.
When they separated, my mother made damn sure that connection disappeared with the divorce.
She never told me much about his life. Only what he had been like when they were married.
A good man and a great father. She said it with such conviction that I’d never thought to question her—but a good man wouldn’t be responsible for this.
Would he?
My eyes skimmed over the page.
Primary suspect in the rise of organised crime.
Illegal firearms distribution.
Human trafficking.
My stomach twisted.
My fucking father.
My fingers tightened around the folder and then I saw the next line.
Call sign: Dominion.
Everything clicked. Every unanswered question. Every strange coincidence. Every piece of the puzzle I’d been too blind to see.
The man worked for the military. That’s why my mother had always been so fucking paranoid about my occupation.
That’s why she’d fought so hard against me following this career path.
That’s why she’d severed every connection between him and us so completely that there was nothing left to salvage.
I stumbled backward and the folder slipped from my grasp, landing on the floor.
Ares knew. He knew about my father and he withheld it from me.
Just when I finally offered him a semblance of trust.
I shook my head, struggling to comprehend what I was looking at.
My hands trembled. A knot formed in my throat.
Then I heard footsteps.
They grew louder with every passing second.
I felt his presence behind me before he even spoke.
“What’s—” He stopped and the footsteps came to an abrupt halt.
“Amala.” His voice was gentle. Too gentle.
I blinked rapidly before slowly turning around to face him.
“I should’ve listened to my intuition.” His expression changed. “I trusted you.”
“Listen to me—”
“No.” I cut him off.
His hands curled into fists at his sides, his jaw ticking as he restrained whatever he wanted to say.
“How long have you known about this?” Silence. I took a step toward him. “Answer my question.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed and it seemed like there was regret lingering in his eyes.
“Let me explain.”
“Answer the fucking question.” My voice was calm and on the inside I was anything but.
Inside, my mind was racing a hundred miles per hour.
My throat constricted, making it difficult to breathe.
“A few hours,” he finally admitted. “I’ve known for a few hours.” I stared at him in disbelief.
“Yet you didn’t tell me when I walked into your house earlier.” His silence was answer enough.
“Instead, you’ve been fucking sweet-talking me.” I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Am I a joke to you, Ares?”
“It’s not like that.” He stepped forward and I immediately stepped back.
Then something flickered across his face. Hurt maybe.
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Come any closer and you’ll leave your house in a body bag.”
My heart hammered harder and a bead of sweat slid down my neck.
Despite the resentment consuming me, I knew I wouldn’t kill him.
I couldn’t.
Somehow, that made me hate myself even more.
“You have to believe me,” he said. “Do you really think I wanted to keep this from you? How was I supposed to tell you, Amala?”
“Oh, now I’m supposed to believe you had my best interests at heart?” My voice cracked but I cleared my throat. “This could’ve been your plan all along.”
I pointed toward the folder lying between us. “You said you’d ruin me, and you’ve accomplished exactly that.” My shoulders were tense, every piece of jewellery on my body suddenly feeling heavier, weighing me down both literally and figuratively.
“Are you happy now?”
His expression hardened.
“When I said I wanted to ruin you, I meant for other men.” He stepped closer. “Not like this.” Another step. “Never like this.”
My chest heaved and my throat was dry.
I looked down at his feet for a split second before meeting his eyes again.
“I’m done with you.” I turned toward the couch and grabbed my belongings. “I want nothing to do with you.”
“Amala—”
“I don’t want to see you again.” I shoved my things into my bag. “And you’re no longer my partner.”
“Just wait, please.” His voice cracked with desperation. “Mi corazón, please.”
I froze for half a second.
“I would never hurt you. Not intentionally.” He swallowed.
“I wanted to tell you. I just—”
“You couldn’t bring yourself to do it?”
I turned around and when he didn’t answer. I suddenly understood.
That feeling.
The one that had been curling inside my gut for days.
The nagging voice in the back of my mind.
The inexplicable unease I’d kept pushing aside.
It had never been paranoia.
It had been the truth trying to make itself heard.
ARES
I panicked, grabbing her wrist before she could walk any further.
“Tell me how to fix this.” I’ve never experienced this before. This ache in my chest that simply worsened as time passed by.
She gazed at me with that empty look in her eyes, pursing her lips. It was evident she wasn’t going to talk anymore. “Princesa—”
“Don’t call me that.” She stepped back, tugging her wrist free. “I’m leaving.” She said bitterly, glaring daggers at me.
Leaving?
Amala wanted to leave? “No.” I followed her movements. “You can’t leave. Not until we’ve resolved this.”
Judging by the look on her face, I couldn’t instantly sense she didn’t appreciate my response.
“You think a simple conversation is going to restore this? I thought we developed trust between us. A real bond.”
Fuck.
Her words stung more than I ever thought possible.
“Don’t do that. Don’t question our progress. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest with you. Please, you have to believe me when I say that I had the best intentions.”
“What progress, Ares?”
It felt like her words knocked every ounce of air out of my lungs.
Like a brutal punch to the gut. “Amala.” I sounded desperate, moving closer to her. “How can you even ask me that question?” My eyebrows furrowed.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Her voice cracked slightly but she was the strongest woman I knew. Easily controlling her emotions.
“This ..” She paused, inhaling sharply. “This is exactly what happens to me every single time I trust someone. I let them in. Give them a finger and they take the fucking hand.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
She moved back every time I moved forward until she had nowhere to go.
Ultimately trapped between myself and the large cabinet behind her.
“I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to hurt you. Physically or emotionally.”
She looked away from me and I couldn’t fucking handle it. “Please. Please look at me..”
Did I ever think I’d be in this predicament?
Fuck no.
Especially not with her. I’ve never yearned for a woman like this in my entire life.
“Tell me what I should do to mend this.” I placed my hand on her cheek, sliding my fingers into her hair.
“I’ll do anything. You could order me around and I’d fucking do it but please—please don’t shut me out or push me away.”
Her bottom lip trembled slightly, her glossy eyes fluttering to blink back tears.
“Stop.” She said, breathing rapidly. It sounded like she was hyperventilating. Amala swallowed, biting her bottom lip hard. An attempt to stop it from trembling.
“Amala, please.”
I got onto my knees, wrapping my arms around her midsection—resting my forehead against her belly.
“Get up, Valiente. You’re embarrassing yourself.” She tried to push me away but I held her tighter.
“No.” I realised she used my surname to address me. We were back at square one and God knew, I wasn’t going to allow that shit. “Tell me what to do.”
“You’re so pathetic.” She grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head backward. I groaned softly, welcoming the stinging feeling.
“I’ll be the most pathetic fucking man you’ve ever seen, so long as you forgive me.”
“No.”
Is all she said, pushing my head back but I didn’t release my grip around her waist.
“Ares.” Her voice was stern, unforgiving, cold. A replica of how she spoke to me before.
The disdain in her voice was evident. That look on her face made me feel like my heart was physically being ripped out of my chest.
“If you don’t let go of me in the next five seconds—” She warned but I didn’t listen. If she left I knew there’d be no salvaging this.
Whatever the term for this was. Was it a relationship? A partnership? A friendship?
I clutched the fabric of her shirt into my fists. “Please, Amala.”
She looked down at me with disgust, pressing her fingers into my shoulder and that made my hold on her falter.
I whimpered in pain, lowering my head slightly.
That’s when she shoved my head sideways, stepping past me. Her footsteps were quick, moving towards the front door with purpose.
I breathed heavily, rolling my shoulders back and then stood up.
Following after her. The sun hit my face and I squinted.
She practically dashed to her car, yanking the door open with trembling hands.
Her movements were so quick and unexpected that I barely had time to react before she drew her firearm and pointed it directly at me.
I froze.
“Don’t,” she warned.
I slowly raised both hands, swallowing hard. “Amala—”
“Don’t follow me.” Her voice shook, but the gun in her hand remained steady enough. “Leave me alone.”
I took a chance and stepped forward.
“You don’t have to do this, Amala. Please, believe me when I say this isn’t how I wanted things to go.”
“Ares.” My name came out as a stern warning. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll fucking shoot.”
Her hand trembled.
A part of me hoped she wouldn’t pull the trigger.
So I took another step.
And then another.
“I’m sorry.”
I was only a few feet away now. Close enough to reach her if I just took one more step.
“I’m sorry, Amala.” My voice softened. “Please. Just listen to me.”
She said nothing.
Her eyes remained fixed on mine, her finger resting dangerously close to the trigger.
I took one final step.
And then—
Bang.
The shot rang out beside my ear.
For a fleeting second, there was nothing but the deafening ringing in my ears.
Then everything went dark.