I let out a resigned sigh and dropped low, ducking the first swing.
Well… let's just hope I don't get my clothes trashed.
Looking weak and harmless worked in my favor—they relaxed too soon. And by the time they realized I wasn't as easy as I looked, it was already too late.
Robert didn't waste the opening. He kicked one of them aside and bolted straight toward me.
"Run!" he shouted.
I didn't argue—I ran.
Some of them were fast. Really fast. We couldn't shake them, no matter how far we pushed, ending up farther and farther from the place I was supposed to meet Nick.
When we finally managed to lose them, we ducked behind a dumpster. I pulled out my phone and quickly sent Nick a message.
"Fuck, I'm so damn sick of these guys!"
"Who were they?"
"Just… not exactly pleasant people," Robert waved it off.
"Yeah, I got that much. What the hell did you do, Torrent? This won't screw you over at the academy, will it?" I asked, actually worried.
"No. They're from my past," he shrugged. "Just persistent bastards. And of course the academy had to be in the same city I used to live in."
"So why are they after you?"
"Some businessman hired them," Robert said with a grimace. "I cleaned him out a bit, and he's still pissed."
"What do you mean, cleaned him out?"
"I robbed him. Took what wasn't mine. Call it whatever you want."
"So that's what you used to do?" I frowned. I'd always pictured him as some kind of soldier.
"No. That was the only time. And for the record—he had it coming."
"And what did he do?"
"He buried my father. My mother too," Robert said, his eyes going dark.
I hesitated.
"Want to talk about it?"
"There's nothing special to tell," he said after a pause. "I had a good family. Decent house. We weren't struggling. My father worked security for a jeweler—a rich bastard—and everything was fine. I'd just turned twenty, already had plans to see the world… you know, the usual stupid shit," he added with a bitter half-smile.
I stayed quiet, letting him speak. This was the first time he'd ever said anything about his past—I wasn't about to interrupt.
"I even had tickets. Then one day we got a call from the hospital. Said my father was badly injured. Turned out the truck he was guarding got hit. He tried to protect the cargo—they shot him. Then ran over his arm and leg. Not a single bone left intact."
"…Jesus."
"We could've handled that," Robert went on, his voice tightening. "But that rich piece of shit—not only did he refuse to pay for treatment, he accused my father of setting the whole thing up. Said he was working with the attackers. So the debt fell on us."
He let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"I tried talking to him. He wouldn't even listen. I still remember that smug grin when he asked me—who do you think people will believe? A security guard? Or a respected jeweler who supplies half the law enforcement elite?"
"Fucking bastard."
"Now you get why I came at you the way I did when we first met," Robert said. "I spent five years working for him for scraps, paying off that debt. I saw hundreds of spoiled rich kids who didn't give a damn about anyone poorer than them."
His jaw tightened.
"We sold the house. Burned through everything we had. My father started drinking. My mother couldn't take it—she died a year later. Then him. And I was left alone. Buried in debt. Not a damn thing to my name."
He fell silent for a moment.
"My father died a year before I got into the academy. That's when I made a plan." A grim, almost satisfied smile tugged at his lips. "I took everything I could carry from that bastard. Managed to stay off the radar for a while… but they found me."
He exhaled.
"Right when they did, a recruiter showed up—Start, I think. That's where I met Storik too. He's the one who pulled me out of that mess. I didn't hesitate—I joined. Nothing was keeping me in that city anymore… or in that life."
"And now?" I asked quietly. "What are you going to do? I doubt they'll just let it go."
"I don't know," Robert said, glancing out to make sure the alley was clear. "Guess I'll just hope they get tired of chasing me someday. Come on?"
"I… have somewhere to be," I admitted, a little awkward. "So if you're good now, I should go."
"Well, I'm definitely not welcome at that casino anymore. At least not tonight," he muttered.
"We could grab a drink. I don't think Nick will mind."
"Oh—you're meeting Nick?" Robert perked up. "Perfect. Let's go. I'll crash your date a bit," he grinned. "So? Where to?"
I pointed the way and pulled out my phone again to warn Volkin about the sudden change of plans.
—
"Alright, that's it, Robert! I can't drink with you!" I protested.
My vision was already swimming, and I had very different plans for the night—Nick's expectant face kept flashing in my head.
"Nope. You're drinking with me! Waiter!"
"Sorry," I whispered to Nick, almost pleading, while Robert ordered another bottle of whiskey.
"It's fine," Nick said—but not very convincingly. "I just… imagined this evening a little differently."
"Me too. It just… happened. I couldn't leave him like that."
In the end, we stayed at the bar until one in the morning.
I got so drunk I passed out right at the counter.
I barely cracked my eyes open when Nick carried me to the room—
—and then I was gone again.
I slept like I was dead.
When I woke up, I saw Volkin's calm face beside me.
Nothing happened. I was sure of it.
First—Nick would never take advantage of me like that.
And second… aside from my head, nothing hurt.
I'd read up on what sex between men actually involved—and, to put it mildly, I was nervous as hell about it.
The only thing I knew for sure—
the first time, I'd be on top.
Though I'd completely forgotten to mention that to Volkin.
"Morning," Nick rasped, opening his eyes.
"Sorry," I sighed.
"I'd say it's fine," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, "but I can't pretend I'm not disappointed."
"I'm taking a shower," I said, getting up. "Only ice-cold water is going to bring me back to life. And if I ever decide to drink with Robert again—just hit me. Hard."
Nick chuckled under his breath.
I came out of the bathroom feeling a lot more alive—
—and froze.
Nick was sitting on the bed, already dressed, his expression dark.
And across from him, in an armchair—
sat Silius.
His face unreadable.