RENAISSANCE

22. Different

"What are you talking about ?" Isaac then said, his eyebrows furrowed.

I don't think he or I expected him to find success this way. The deal was good.

"You stretched very well. So, do I have your word?" Conor asked again.

Like an unyielding sentinel, the mercenary scrutinized his enemy with unwavering determination. His gaze was like a vice, enveloping the other man in a grip with no escape. In his eyes, I could perceive the fierce desire to decipher every thought, every emotion, as if this icy gaze could penetrate the best forged armor.

The atmosphere seemed to grow heavier, everything faded around these two protagonists whose gazes clashed as if in a silent duel.

"You have it," Isaac finally said.

I was speechless. How could he voluntarily give up these women? Wasn't it his role to protect them and save them from the clutches of this evildoer who was Conor and all his accomplices? I no longer understood anything, I believed he had principles and values. It's that or let the only chance to catch this Caleb slip away. But still! I didn't know, I didn't know anymore. What choice would I have made in his place? My freedom or that of others? In reality I was just as immoral as him, I had no right to blame him. Not me.

"The man of your word that you are lets me trust you with my eyes closed. You may be a bastard, but I know you're more loyal than anyone on this planet. Glad you made the right choice, little one," replied the old man with a satisfied pout.

"Speak," ordered Isaac.

Everyone rolled their eyes, and that was right. My heartbeat accelerated in the face of his casualness and presumption. The uneasiness was really eating my guts out.

Conor did not rebel, on the contrary, he wore his perverse and creepy smile.

"I hear you've been hanging around Vinegar Hill lately. In enemy lands," he added mischievously as if to remind her that what Isaac had done was forbidden.

My neighborhood.

"You smelled the right scent, kid. Caleb's HQ is there."

Click. The reason for his presence there was finally explained.

His nocturnal outings, the gunshots. These men were Caleb's.

The reason he was hiding, why he was constantly scanning his surroundings through the window. My neighborhood was key.

"But he hasn't been there for a long time," he finished.

And shit.

"He ran away as soon as you got your ass back there."

I looked at the mercenary intently to determine if he was disappointed, or angry, but nothing. He was just an illegible rock, true to himself.

"Well, to the point you were able to meet our mysterious guest," he added. "What is your name-"

"You don't need to know it," the killer said harshly.

How did he know we met there? Do rumors spread so quickly? But how ? Ultimately Suzan was right. In this dark world, everyone ended up knowing everything, which is why insecurity and fatality reigned there.

My gaze at Isaac seemed to weigh heavily on him, as he turned his face away to look at me. A few seconds of visual contact then arose, as intense as the previous ones.

"Johnson, help our dear guest to put her scarf back in place. She seems to be having trouble."

Huh ?

We turned our heads at the same time and I was staring at him to see if he was really serious, when the guy next to me slowly got up from his chair.

He still wore his Machiavellian smile.