It Will Always Be A Game

09: Solivagant

You want a fight, I'll bring a war

I watch him as he holds Moestie in his arms and walks up to us. My eyes are fixed on his face. I stare at him for God knows how long.

His eyes glance me up and down before looking at Azrah. He pats Moestie and places her back down.

"It's nice to meet you," he nods.

"Nice to meet you too..?" she gives him a weird look and smiles sceptically.

"Uh, do you need anything?" she looks at me. "Or anyone?"

His damn blazing blue eyes meet mine with a glint of bitterness swirling in them. And I can't help but keep staring at them.

"Do we know you?" her brows lift.

He stares at me before nodding and taking something out of his pocket.

"Detective Ethan Presley from the FBI."

My stomach twists and tightens into knots as I hear that word.

FBI.

He's a detective?

From fucking FBI?

How did I not know?

Trying to steady my racing heartbeat, I speak up. "What are you doing here?"

He looks at me. Then at Azrah.

"You have to come with me," he says as he looks directly into my eyes.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what's going on here," she shakes her head, "Alyssa do you know him?" she turns to me, a puzzled expression on her face.

Fuck.

She can't know.

"Uh," my mouth falls open. I look at him. And back at Azrah.

She'll know if I lie.

"No- no I don't. Why would I?" I shrug and play with my jaw, trying to look just as confused as she does.

She looks at me in suspicion.

I raise my eyebrows in question.

"Um, how about you give us a minute, detective?" she smiles at him before taking my arm and dragging me to a corner.

"Hey, my leg!" I wince.

"Okay, I need you to tell me what's going on. First, your face and your leg. And then your hand. What- what is going on? Just tell me if you want to be hospitalised!
And- the freaking FBI?!" she whisper- shouts. "You can't tell me it's because you fell Alyssa," she quotes 'fell.'

And right now, I'm looking anywhere but at her.

"Alyssa." She gives me a death stare.

"I know you're hiding something."

I look up at her.
I don't know what to say. No words come out of my mouth. Hard to when you have so much going on in your head.

"I-"

"Listen," she holds my hands, making me look at them, "please don't tell me you're in some huge trouble. You've been acting so distant these past weeks and I don't know what's going on, but I know something's bothering you," she looks at me, "or someone...?" Her eyes dart over to my bruises.

Yes, there is Aza. I had to say goodbye to my best friend and I don't know if I'll see him again. I got shot in the leg and saw my father after six years. I'm receiving letters written in blood and I have no idea who it is.