Chapter Twenty-Two
Despite my new revelation after talking with Saul, seeing Torz and Marla together still plagued me like an aggressive virus.
As I followed them to the function room at seven that evening, heat swamped me with a feverish resentment.
I couldn’t peel my eyes away from them. Marla’s hand kept brushing Torz’s biceps, and as they spoke closely with one another, her enchanting smiles and sweet titters twisted my stomach into barbed knots.
I wanted to tear her manicured nails off those slender fingers and stick them in her eyes.
It seemed the untameable well of jealousy was overspilling with no outlet, which left me repeating an unsettling mantra in my head: Mine. Torz is mine!
It didn’t help that Marla draped herself in a figure-hugging, eloquent gold dress. While she flaunted her beautiful curves, I remained invisible, stuck in my black security uniform.
It concerned me how this woman, with her fucking claws in my Damson, steered my attention away from the threat Russo posed.
Though, the asshole lingered in the back of my mind like a dormant explosive.
Would he be so gallant as to attack tonight?
If he harmed Marla, what would that mean for Torz? For me?
With the mass of security personnel milling about the government floors, everyone was obviously on high alert. Perhaps they’d caught wind of Russo’s intentions. Or maybe the fake assassination attempts were still causing the desired effect.
At the end of the long corridor, we entered the darkly lit gala hall where dozens upon dozens of round tables filled the expanse, all adorned with elaborate floral arrangements, fine crockery, cutlery, and wineglasses.
As Marla and Torz meandered through the tables towards their seats, Saul pulled me and our team aside, reiterating the final rundown of orders for this evening.
Saul’s instructions were a blur of muffled words as my eyes remained affixed to Torz.
His handsome face smiled widely, exposing those dimples I rarely saw these days.
The black and grey dress uniform of the Argentum complimented his broad shoulders and slim waist. He looked the epitome of an established commander.
The thought filled me with both pride and concern.
What would happen after tonight? If Zuli won the vote, how long would we have before she condemned the Purans?
How long until Russo started his onslaught of revenge?
“Remi, are you listening?”
Snapping my attention to Saul’s unusually stern face, I straightened my shoulders. “I’ll stand over there, right?” I pointed to the wall near the edge of the stage, free from any other security personnel.
“Keep your earpiece active and report if you see anything suspicious.”
I nodded, turning to take my position.
The next hour dragged on. The evening was my idea of hell—a room full of pretentious socialites preening over each other to win votes.
Governor Zuli sat at the table behind Torz, her smug face proving her confidence.
How many voting officials had she blackmailed in the attempt to push her plans through office?
How many had fallen under her spell and become sympathy voters? The thought made me livid.
The room fell silent as Titus’s Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Gloth, took the stage.
I slouched against the wall as he delivered his speech to start the manifesto pledges, only to straighten my stance when a door in the corner, not far from where I stood, silently opened.
Glancing in its direction, I blinked repeatedly, convinced I was seeing some kind of illusion.
There, standing with the perfected look of a pious deity, was the godly figure from my dreams—a sublime, realistic image from myth.
He’s not real. He can’t be.
Locking his vividly haunting eyes on me, amusement danced across his face. He strutted closer, his dark-purple tunic shimmering with otherworldly ripples under the weak, artificial lights. The closer he got, my adamance that he was a hallucination wavered.
He can’t be real.
But the way the light played across his porcelain features was too realistic, and a switch in my brain violently flicked on.
Tentatively, I walked over to intercept him. “What are you doing here?” My voice was low and discreet as I glanced at the government officials sitting close by. Thankfully, all were still engaged in Admiral Goth’s humorous speech.
“I’m here to cast my vote.”
Confused, I glared at the Damson God, shaking my head. “Your vote? How? You’re not real. You exist in mythical stories.”
“I also exist in your dreams, Remi.” With a taunting smirk, he stepped around me.
Intent on stopping whatever mischief he was alluding to initiate, I grabbed his arm, shocked to discover there was flesh and bone beneath the thick fabric.
“See?” Stalling his steps, he looked back at me. “I’m real.”
Fuck. What’s going on? How is he here?
I followed his gaze across the room to Torz and Marla, and a new, profound sense of dread flooded my veins. “Where are you going?”
“Did you know Marla Hyde is Governor Zuli’s favourite niece?”
What? Is she?
Losing my grip on his sleeve, I fumbled forward, gaining attention from a couple sitting at a table mere metres away.
I straightened. “Why does that matter to you?” I whispered to the silver-haired being whose presence was disturbing me more and more by the second.
“She’s interfering with my Damsons.” Flicking up the flaps of his tunic, he dislodged a gun from the waistband of his trousers. Panic launched through my body as his eyes darkened over his shoulder. “And that gives me warrant to end this absurd plan to poison my planet with unwanted flesh.”
As he strolled forward through the tables of guests, my feet became laden. I couldn’t move—too mystified by what was happening. Tapping my earpiece, I quietly alerted Saul to the imminent threat.
“Where?” Saul growled back, alarm lacing his tone. The room was dimly lit, and the harsh lights from the stage threw the security guards patrolling the walls into shadow. I had no idea where Saul was stationed. I hadn’t been listening earlier.
“Second aisle from the front, ten paces from me.”
“I can’t see anyone.”
“The man with long silver hair. Purple jacket. He’s moving towards Marla Hyde.”
“Remi, I can’t see anyone. Everyone is sitting at their tables.”
“Saul, he’s…” Something stirred inside me. Doubt. It was doubt. Was the image of that man in my head? Had I gone mad?
No. No, it can’t be. I could clearly see him casting shadows over the guests as he passed them. His tall, slim body blocked my sight of Torz for a split second as my commander glanced at the approaching god.
“Saul, can you see him now?”
“No, Remi! What the hell is up with you?”
The Damson God stopped a few paces from Torz’s table. With Marla sitting directly in front of him—her head twisted to the side, looking towards the stage—he raised his gun, aiming at her temple.
Fear almost crippled me, transgressing into an assault of adrenaline roaring down my legs.
I launched myself forward through the laughing guests.
Like a dark huntress, I jumped over the abandoned chair blocking my route, weaving around a newly appeared waitress distributing drinks.
Everybody seemed oblivious to the threat the Damson God posed. Everyone except me.
I slowed as I approached the godly assassin and raised my gun to his back. “Do not move.”
Gasps echoed around the room, and the admiral on stage fell silent.
“Drop the weapon!” I prodded the silver-haired man’s shoulder blade. His gun still aimed at Marla, whose gaze turned in our direction, looking directly at me. Movement to my right had my eyes flicking to Torz as he slowly stood up.
“Rems.” He tentatively took a step closer, his scowl brimming with confusion and concern. “Rems, what are you doing?”
My breaths were erratic, my mind tingling with trepidation as I took in the horrified faces staring at me. Not at the Damson God. At me!
“I need to stop…” My hands began to tremble, a strange tingling sensation settling in my right wrist. “He wants to…”
“Rems, put the gun down.” Torz’s voice was nurturing, persuasive, as if I was the threat, not the assassin. Not…
Coming closer, Torz stepped through the image of the Damson God, the purple shimmer of the assailant’s coat fading to mist in front of my very eyes.
Dazed, I gasped, suddenly afraid. I was only vaguely aware of Torz gently placing his hand around mine, lowering the gun, and removing it from my grasp.
I stared at Marla’s petrified face, at her aunt frantically rushing over to her. My gun…my gun had been pointing at Marla.
“She needs to be detained!” Zuli announced. Murmurs of agreement ricocheted around the room before I shuddered at the admiral’s orders to arrest me.
“She’s my responsibility, sir,” Torz’s voice boomed from beside me towards the stage. “I will detain and reprimand her.”
I turned to Torz, desperate for him to understand. “Torz, I didn’t—”
He instantly shushed me, still conversing with the admiral. The look he pinned me with was startling. It was fierce, cold, as if he’d had enough of me. As if he wanted me gone.
Shame slammed into my chest with unwavering force. What had I done? Was I going insane? Was The Quoram Effect eating away at me like it did to those who ventured to the surface unbonded?
Through a fog of hazy movements, I was ushered through the sea of shocked and angry faces. Torz handed me to Saul. His orders were clear: “Take her back to Delta Ring and detain her.”
Saul escorted me away, his eyes sporadically shifting to me without the usual friendly joviality. He was dubious, disgusted. And as he gripped my arm, tugging me through the function room door, I called out, “I was protecting her. I was protecting her!” But nobody acknowledged me. Not even Torz.