Kissing Steel (Book 1) *UPDATED*

Chapter 4

I want to say I was forced to make a deal with a dangerous man, but deep down, I know boredom is the root cause of my willingness to play my part. I know I should be freaking out but I have to be honest, I am too curious to know how this will all go. I've never felt needed for what I'm good at. My father, if he was alive right now, would never even speak to me.

People might call me dumb for helping Bane if this ever blew up. But I have to be on the winning side.

Okay, that's half a lie—I'm just glad someone out here finally needs my help instead of shaming me for manufacturing weapons.

I had to leave my company for a while. Surely, Anna's living her best life sitting in my seat by now. Thanks to our privacy policies, I'm able to set up a transaction without getting traced.

The only thing I'll have to worry about is getting caught. Or getting betrayed by Bane.

He wouldn't—would he? No. Before he could kill me, of course, I'll be gone.

"Ms. Dawn?" A voice of a man shattered my reverie. Two of Bane's men were standing near my door. "Ready?"

They've been ordered to take me to underground where Bane is.

Who am I kidding—I don't want to leave my place house and stay at a sewer for days or even weeks. What am I even supposed to do there?

I shook my head and brought my bags with me as I walked past the two men in black.

✦

"You trust me enough to handle your weapons but you can't trust me to be at my condo alone?" I asked, annoyed as I approached him. He ordered me to stay down with him in the underground facility—basically the sewers—with the rest of his men.

Pissing him off was the only thing I could do since I had already done my job and couldn't even go back to my condo. Annoying the shit out of the mastermind seemed like fun, anyway. I mean, who else can say they got to piss off the mastermind and not get shit for it?

He knows he needs me and won't get rid of me just yet.

He slowly turned to me, "I never said I trusted you." I could hear him breathing in that mask.

"Ah, right. You only trust lil' miss Tate." I grumbled.

He didn't answer me as he turned away, watching the men.

For a long time, I've been the boss. It's nice to see an actual genius—or sociopath—handle things for a change. But it hurts to be slapped in the face with reality—I'm just another pawn. Right. Just like the weapons he asked me to deal with. A tool for him to use when he needed it.

But, really? All for Tate? That woman who seems to act as if she'd wither in one bad comment? I know people. I've talked to many people who lie through their teeth. I've met with several people in my work. I know a person's wearing a mask when I see one. I know there's something wrong about Tate. The thought of her cocky smirk angered me. I remembered how she tried to look down on me, underestimating me in court. I remember hearing her speak with one of her attorneys, saying that someone like me does not deserve where I am now.

But who is she to say that people like me, who had to struggle and work their way up, do not deserve a life of pleasure? It's people like her, who are born with a silver spoon in their mouths, that do not deserve an ounce of respect.

"Why help Tate?"

He sighed deeply, bowing his head down. "I was a good friend of hers since she was a child. When her father died, I promised her a good future. And here I am, wanting to help her finish what her father had started. Burning Gotham to the ground."

"What's in it for you?"

"I am not asking for something in return,"

I was startled by his response. He did this for a friend's daughter. All this for a special person. He'd die for someone. Or he's doing this for revenge. His own satisfaction.

I watched his back against me and gazed at his muscular figure under the light. I couldn't take it. I said, "Violence is not the answer."

"To her it is, and I will give that favor to her." He pauses, "After all, this is what I'm made for. Killing."

"Maybe that's what they told you. I mean how do you even know that? What if killing isn't the only thing you're good at?"

"And what would that be?" he turned to face me. "Become a hero? Do you think that is possible for someone like me? Someone with a history like mine?"

"Only if you believe it is."

He groaned, "Descend from that tower of yours, Amy. No one is born with a good life like yours and make these choices. It's the only reason why it's so easy for you to say things like these."

"First of all, you don't know me. Second, you can still change your destiny."

"Yes, let's talk about inevitable destinies. What about you, Amy?" he stepped closer. His breathing under that mask sounded much more clearer. "I know you've been in this industry for so long. No one can shake you, not even Tate. You know what you're made for. So I suggest you do what you're asked."

He stopped walking, standing only inches away from me. I caught a whiff of his scent—strong, warm, and...captivating.

"Bane—" I croaked.

"You don't need to play pretend. Pity isn't what I need." He turned

"I was not pretending—" I argued,

"Lie. Everyone Lies. If you want to leave, I suggest you stop this act because you are not leaving. Do what you're asked to. Put yourself to good use." He turned away from me.

"I'm just trying to let you know that at least someone here, in this shit hole, thinks about you for once." There really is a sadness in his eyes and maybe even softness. I was hoping I was right. But I might be wrong. I feel dumb for even thinking there's an ounce of good in this dangerous man. I thought he felt forced to do this because of Tate—knowing how manipulative that woman is. Even her father. But maybe he really agreed to this wholeheartedly.

"I was just helping," I mumbled to myself.

"That's not the kind of help I asked for," he said firmly, his back still facing me.

"Well, help in my dictionary means something about kindness too." It slipped out of my mouth. I know I should just leave but I kept going. "Are you so revolted by kindness that you can't even handle one person trying to show an ounce of concern?"

Bane turned to face me. And the light shined right on his face—clear enough for me to see his sad eyes.

He paused, and with such a soft tone, he said, "There's no place for that here."

I had nothing else to say. All I felt was embarrassment. I already lost that argument and my whole tough reputation's got a hole in it. So I bite my lip and walk away.

All my life I've done exactly what my father didn't want me to do. I've been the antagonist of my family. Maybe he's right. This is my purpose.