Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Tristan
Afist strikes my head hard, and I try to block it away, but I get smashed to the side and onto the metal cage ring nonetheless.
The crowd chants the other guy’s name, and I swipe blood from my teeth with the back of my bandaged hand.
My black shorts are drenched in blood, the rest of sweat rolling down my chest as I see the guy coming at me. Ella’s face flashes in my mind.
My girl.
My Ella.
Mine.
With her in my head, my mind turns into a war weapon.
He lunges at me, and I grab his middle, pressing him onto the ground, a rain of fists and elbows falling on his head.
He tries protecting himself as blood smears the mat, and after thirty seconds, he taps my side three times.
The referee grabs me like no one would be allowed to in any other circumstances, and I stand, arms up, out of breath.
Damn, it feels good. The crowd gets wild, and I shut my eyes, soaking all the violence away.
Yeah, I really needed this. Fighting, even in fucked-up events with the probability of getting my neck crushed, is necessary.
All this destruction needs to go somewhere, and I never intend to become my father.
I’m already walking on the thin thread between reason and duty.
All I need is to focus on the goal. Protecting my family, protecting Ella.
She’s all the fuel I needed to win.
She is all the fuel I need, point blank.
I spit blood on the ground and get out of the cage, ready to get back into my suit in a few hours.
* * *
Today is one of those days when there is no difference between the movement of the sun and the changing hands of the clock.
Actually, the last week has been the same.
Saoirse and Matt keep intercepting information, with sources in the field giving us intel on where Cole could be, along with codes and information on his warehouses and possible hidden locations for his hostages.
Hostages, since none of them ever wanted to be there in the first place. And hostages are meant to be freed.
We are now convinced the code his niece gave us last month is the code to the biggest hiding place Cole could be in.
And that she gave us that piece of intel as revenge for Cole marrying her off to a man four times her age.
It could also be a trap. Time will tell.
It is not like me to rush. Nor to hurry for any reason other than my own, since I am the boss and I am the one calling the shots.
Except Ella texted me as we were listening to a real-time conversation of Cole’s right-hand man discussing a possible transfer of hostages and drugs tonight with an unidentified person.
I waited to hear his voice, to hear his obvious moves betrayed in his strategy.
Still, nothing came out, as I was too distracted for the first time in my life, trying my best to take care of Ella despite our distance and inability to talk on the phone.
Comforting others is not my default setting.
But I tried. I really did. And I hope, I hope I was able to give her a bit of comfort to hold on to today until I see her tonight.
There is so much I have to tell her, so much I want to do with her, that my brain short-circuited, unable to focus on work and her at the same time; the snake of temptation biting me both ways, leaving me unable to be fully there for either of them.
Nate has been handling the heavy lifting on our legal business side, but I still have a lot to take care of, approve, check, and read through, finding gaps in the fine print no associate has.
I have also been waiting for any threat or sign coming from him, anything implying he knows about Ella and me.
The last three nights, nightmares have plagued me with photographs of her with a red cross drawn across her face.
What if he knew and was planning on taking her away from me?
What if he did not stop and hurt her in irreversible ways?
And what if… What if she never forgave me later, or worse…
“Hey.” Nate’s hand lands on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Sure, yeah.”
I shove his hand away, snapping myself back into the present.
“Nice bruise,” he remarks. I managed to sign up for a fight last minute last night. Stayed there thirty minutes, in and out, just in time to get my fist covered in blood and fight my demons on a poor jacked guy’s face. Worth it.
“Nice hair,” I taunt, his disheveled light brown hair betraying a rushed morning running after Maddie.
After a day of meetings with Matt and Saoirse, giving them new instructions, I have been following up on the legal side of work, burying myself in paperwork until Nate offered to eat dinner at his place.
Maddie is slurping spaghetti off her fork, her plate a battlefield of meatballs cut open to reveal the hidden green peas Nate tried to sneak in.
Balancing a human trafficking hunt, contracts, and high-level corporate strategy along with family is, well, easier said than done.
Ella is inserting herself into every corner of my mind, tearing my guts apart as I imagine her hurt on the concrete floor but also sitting there, in a fourth chair at the table, with my family.
Is it normal? Do other people go through the same symptoms when they encounter someone who can read them like a book?
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Uncle Tristan,” Maddie signs, giggling, grimacing with both palms in the air, mimicking a ghost. We are eating, the three of us, at the kitchen table in Nate and Maddie’s house, the decor coastal style, like when Elise was still there.
She had picked it out, and I do not think Nate has it in him to change it.
The house is not as large as mine, the kitchen and living room occupying the same open space, making it warmer, with pictures of them and drawings Maddie made on the fridge, held under fruit-shaped magnets.
Despite the cream and light-wood atmosphere, it gets shaken by the kaleidoscope of toys, pencils, and plushies my niece has scattered everywhere.
His house is only fifteen minutes from work, in the best neighborhood downtown, expensive and safe, with a backyard and brick at the front.
There is a picture of the three of them right in the entryway, and the kitchen is behind us as we look at the living room, which towers over the garden where Maddie has all sorts of dolls seated at a small table, ready for a tea party.
“Sorry, Mads. Just work,” I sign back, trying to hold on to the picture of innocence before me, keeping Nate and me in the present moment.
“You always work, like Dad,” she remarks, signing before going back to her meatballs as if she is suddenly too bored by us.
Nate clears his throat, signing with his white shirt raised at the elbows. “Have you told him about the incident at school?” A smug smile sits on his face. An incident? I hope to hell no one bothered her, or I will find a way to get in touch with the parents and…
“Cecelia. She is one year older than me and super pretty. She said I was stupid because I talked with my hands.” Maddie signs, frowning and pouting dramatically.
“She pushed my shoulder in the hallway, and then, well…” Maddie stops, unsure.
My nerves twitch, and my hand, which used to be flat on the table, is now turned into a fist.
“Tell your uncle what you did, honey,” Nate says out loud, pride standing right beside him.
“I said, you’re rude and, also, I’m a little sunshine my dad says so I’m not listening to you. Nothing’s wrong with me and if you can’t see it, then maybe you have poo in your eyes.” She bursts into silent laughter, one so similar to Ella’s that I can’t help but grin like an idiot.
“You did the right thing, Mads,” I sign.
“Bullies lose all their power when we stand up to them.” The sentence has a bitter taste, as if I have just confessed a lie to a saint.
I have been standing my ground for the last decade, and still, Cole Vodianov is still there, at every corner, threatening my work and the people I care about.
“Dad, I’m done. Can I go watch Bubbly now, please?”
Nate fakes hesitation before complying. “Just one episode, and then you brush your teeth.”
“Yes.”
“I mean it. Just one.” Maddie takes her plate with great care, walking extra slowly, as if the floor is made of eggshells, puts it in the sink, then storms to the living room, where we see her jump onto the couch and turn on the TV to a cartoon.
Nate sighs. “She normally doesn’t watch…”
“I don’t care.” I dig my fork into the dish.
“Screens, I kid you not, worse than candy. I’m trying to have her watch less, but sometimes…”
“You do your best, Nate. An hour of TV won’t melt her brain. She has more wit than most men we know. I’m not worried about her.”
“So what are you worried about, then?” he taunts. Am I so obvious?
“Our mother really cannot hold a secret, uh ?”
“Not to her favorite son,” he smirks. “She means no harm. Just thought I could help.”
“Well,” I say, putting my fork down, “can you?”
“Mom said she’s mute.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if she needs a place, she can come here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. If she really means that much to you, yeah. I think…I think Maddie would love having someone like her around.” I frown, considering the idea. Of course Maddie would be thrilled to meet Ella, who wouldn’t?
“Thanks. I…I think I have everything sorted, but I appreciate it.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad, you know, for you to have someone.” He winces. “Mads! Turn it down; I can hear it from here!” he shouts as she gestures back, waving at him like she cannot hear what he is saying, a large smile on her face. Oh, she will drive him crazy when the teenage years hit.
“Giving love advice now?”
“Coming from someone who had it and lost it, trust me, life is better when you’ve got your person.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”