We walk down the stairs. Everybody partying in the club continuing their everyday life. Not knowing that the owner has been shot.

The backup story, that Cole has just confirmed with me, is a suicide.

Not like we need a backstory

It doesn't really matter if people know or not. There's nothing they can do. Before leaving out the door, I get a quick glance at some long blonde hair moving swiftly past the bar.

"Hold on, I'll be out in a second," I mutter quickly to Cole ask I move towards the bar. Not waiting for his response.

I slip behind my old workstation, the smell of anxiety and tears creates some sort of phantom memory. It doesn't look like Braxton replaced me, so that means that the server would have to double as the bartender.

We only had one constant server:

Amber

Why was Amber working as a server anyway, if she worked with Cole?

Did she know Braxton's plan? Did she know what girl he'd fallen in love with?

I look around one last time for the blonde before going up the staircase. Someone in love must have some kind of souvenir from their loved one. Something that reminds them of that person.

I'm sure that's not true for all cases, but looking wouldn't hurt.

I open the door, the morbid smell of blood immediately flooding my nose. His body lay staged, into the scene that we had created. Gun, that was not his, in his hand and note, that he did not write, placed on the stage.

I swallow hard looking at the dead man's body. I can't help but think that I should feel bad. Should I feel bad? Do we cry when villains die? Or do we celebrate the end of their reign?

I lean closer starting to search his pockets for anything, any sign. Finally, my fingers graze a metal object. I pull it from his vest pocket.

It's a broken, rusted ring.

On the inside of the band, was engraved:

It sounds like Latin, but I do not understand what it means. I look back at the body.

"I didn't think you would be the type to lose your sanity over a girl," I whisper knowingly at the deceased.

I place the ring in my dress and walk to the door.

***

We were back home at the penthouse. I've been contemplating how to ask my questions without alarming Cole. He was sitting on the couch, glasses perched perfectly on his nose.

He looked good, but then again, he always looked good

As I made my way towards his place on the couch. The ring burned in awareness against my thigh. After changing out of my dress I decided that keeping it on my person would be the best way to go about the situation.

I plop on the couch, taking a quick glance at his screen.

"You work too much," Our eyes lock.

"If I don't do it, it won't get done,"

"Have you ever done anything for fun?"

"This is fun," I laugh.

"No seriously," I take his computer, gently closing it, "What do you enjoy?"

"Killing," His blue eyes swirl with amusement.

"I guess that's something we have in common."

Our laughter dies into a comfortable silence, he turns the TV on to fill that space. My mind again wonders to the question I had to ask. I feel dirty sitting next to the man I admired knowing I had unasked questions.

"Did you have any of your members stationed at Surrender?" I ask.

"No, none that were placed," His arm behind my head was giving me the confidence to ask him.

"So you didn't know that Amber was working with me a Surrender?"

He abruptly sat up, facing me.

"She worked at Surrender? With you?" His tone let me know that he had no clue, "Do you know how long?"

"She was there before I got there. I've been working there for almost 3 years,"

"That doesn't make any sense," His voice is distant, his head searching for understanding.

"What are you thinking?"

"Well," He trails off, "Amber and I, we had a little summer fling about 4 years ago,"

I fucking knew it - something was off about their dynamic

It's embarrassing the ping of jealousy I felt in my chest. How can I feel territorial over something that isn't even mine?

"It was only sex. We were really close and I was being dumb. I stopped it after a few times and let her know that we couldn't continue or be anything more than that. She's been a bitch since then," He begins to explain himself, not that he had to. It didn't really get rid of the jealousy I was trying to hide.

He gets up to pace in front of the large window.

"She went through phases. The first was her coming to office in a trench coat," He pauses, "Only a trench coat,"

Okay...gross

"I would really prefer not to hear about your sex life with other women," I interrupt him.

"Then she laid off, leaving me alone. Only coming around when we need a girl to fight in a ring,"

Oh, underground fighting rings, interesting...

"So, you think she got the job after you stopped fucking her?" He cringes at my word choice.

"Don't say it like that,"

"That's what you did right? Fuck?" I don't know if he picked up on the jealousy that laced my tone, but I sure hope he didn't. "Tell me, Black, do you fuck all of your members or just the crazy ones?"

This man leaves a trail of ladies behind. His attention or lack thereof can send them into a whirlwind of emotions.

"What can I say? I'm attracted to the crazy ones."

His eyes burn through me, I wonder if it's normal to feel like you're floating when you talk to someone.

"I promise you I'm not like any other girl you've been with," I make my way to the bedroom.

No, that's not an invitation