Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Bellamy
She was so close.
Everything they wanted was within reach.
There was a new girl at her table, a cute little red-head she hadn’t seen around before.
The woman kept watching Bellamy, the piercing gaze set her on edge.
It didn’t matter though, whatever the woman tried to do, Bellamy was going home to Vesper.
Ever since they’d met, she hadn’t wanted anyone else.
Not only that, she was going home with enough money to secure their future, to let their contract expire and let them do what they really wanted. To live out their dreams. No one could get in her way now.
Then, the cards were revealed. That little red-head won, her coy smile directed right at Bellamy. Bellamy narrowed her eyes. No big deal, she already had enough, she could just cash out now, collect her winnings, and be done. Easy.
Two hours later, she’d lost everything she’d won that night and then some. It would be horribly ill-advised of her to stay now. It took effort to ignore that little voice in her head telling her that just one more game wouldn’t hurt.
It was late. Vesper would be wondering where she was. Her high had come crashing down around her. Bellamy couldn’t get them out tonight. She wouldn’t even be able to do it tomorrow, or the next day. It’d take at least a week, plus she had to pay back the house. This one fucking hurt.
Bellamy had hit a spot like this only once before, and it sucked. It sucked now too. Which meant she was now going home to Vesper in a shit mood. And she couldn’t even tell her why. Okay, she could tell her why, but then Vesper would make her stop.
Vesper had never liked Bellamy gambling.
Said it was too risky. Especially with how hard it already was for them to save.
She’d always had a difficult time figuring out where their money went.
Granted, their employers didn’t pay them well, but she thought they would have been able to save more than they were.
She turned down an alleyway shortcut she used to get home.
It was dark, streetlights were fleeting, and the stench of rubbish piled up around her, almost making her gag.
But it was away from the noise of the main road, the talking, the drinks sloshing.
She always had to take this alleyway out of what the locals called Gambler’s Lane.
It was the only way for her to resist the desire to keep playing.
Bellamy steeled herself at the site of their towering building in the distance.
One of the biggest high rises in the city.
She was still in a shit mood and more likely to snap at Vesper.
She’d also have to pass by the Downstairs.
She always did. It was the design of the building. Bellamy fucking hated it.
The whores always looked at Vesper, every fucking day.
They never looked at Bellamy—not that she wanted them to.
She just wanted them to stop looking at Vesper like they saw something in her that they didn’t see in Bellamy.
A target. Vesper claimed she was just friends with them, and Bellamy trusted her, but that didn’t make it easier when she saw Vesper talking to them.
She kicked a pile of trash as she passed it, working out some of her anger before getting back to the building and seeing the whores that Vesper had, for some reason, befriended.
It was unfair of her to be upset with Vesper. She’d never touch them, Bellamy knew that. She knew that. But there was always that little worry, that little insecurity.
Bellamy groaned, her hands balled into fists at her sides.
She was projecting now, building up anger at Vesper, who’d done nothing wrong.
She was pushing the focus away from her miserable night.
Bellamy was making sure she’d snap at Vesper now, start a fight because she was angry with herself.
Snap at the one person who could stand her when she was like this.
A muffled curse drew Bellamy out of her spiral.
Stumbling footsteps faltered behind her.
Bellamy froze, turning slowly, her magic pricking against her fingertips.
No one ever came through this alley—at least, not that she saw.
The red-head from the shop was about fifteen paces away.
Illuminated in the dim glow of Bellamy’s cracking magic, the girl was trying to right herself while she peeled trash out of her shoe.
Bellamy scoffed, trying not to laugh as she turned away.
Seeing the girl like that made her feel a tiny bit better.
She wondered if the girl lived in her building.
If that was the case, she must have just moved in since Bellamy hadn’t seen her around before.
At least it seemed like her good luck didn’t extend to the streets.
And that reminder brought Bellamy back to exactly why she was so worked up in the first place.
The girl hadn’t seen Bellamy, at least she hadn’t said anything.
Good. Bellamy didn’t want friends. Especially not friends who beat her at her own fucking game, and she sure as shit didn’t want anything else from her.
Bellamy slipped inside her building without another thought to the girl who’d ruined her night.
She tried to rush past the Downstairs, like she always did, but one of the whores flagged her down.
Bellamy couldn’t place her name but recognized her as one of the girls who was constantly all over Vesper.
She gritted her teeth and pretended not to see her, increasing her pace just a bit.
A few more steps and she could slam the stairwell door in the whore’s face.
Then, a delicate hand clasped around her wrist with surprising strength, and she was pulled into a hug.
Bellamy froze. The whores had never touched her before.
“Relax,” the girl whispered in her ear, irritation plain in her voice. “You’re being followed. Little red-head, fiddling with a locked office door behind us.”
“How do you know?” Bellamy hissed back.
“I know the owner of that office, and it’s not her. She was also very obvious. She looked around the lobby until she spotted you and only veered off when I called for you.” The whore let her go and sauntered away without another word.
Bellamy continued on her way, looking as if nothing happened while her mind reeled.
Why the fuck was the whore even paying attention enough to know she was being followed, let alone to warn her?
Bellamy never hid her distaste for the girls, and they never hid their annoyance with her presence.
Like she was the one obstacle between them and another fucking client.
She was halfway up the staircase when the door closed beneath her. Unfortunately, she did believe the whore. Bellamy ducked behind a column, listening as hurried footsteps rushed closer, the sound echoing off the cement walls.
“Who are you?” Bellamy snapped. The woman startled when she rounded the bend, clearly looking for Bellamy.
Bellamy leaned casually against the column, toying with her crackling energy, holding it in a twisted knife-like form.
It wasn’t a threat, exactly. Not yet, at least. More like a subtle show of skill. A warning.
The woman held up her hands in mock surrender. She looked only a couple years younger than Bellamy herself. Her green eyes were bright and held no fear. She was pretty, innocent looking. Bellamy hated her immediately.
“Name’s Cedar. I don’t want any trouble.”