Forever Fighting | ✔️ | [previously Espionage: double-cross]

Chapter 57

Yeah, bed rest was not going to work out. 

Barely minutes after James had left, probably to make some food as per her rumbling stomach's request, Alex set off on walking. Hopefully James took a while in the kitchen and luckily for her, she was already feeling better, the pain in her chest subsiding to a dull throb and the headache all but non-existent. Well, maybe she spent more than a few minutes in bed recovering.

After finding that she could easily manage a slow, lethargic amble without feeling too much pain, though anything more resulted in something a lot worse, she managed to stumble into her en-suite with a change of clothes, thankful to get out of the ones she had fought with. She knew she couldn't smell the blood but it's almost as if the stench was engrained into her mind, that metallic stench of her slow demise she wasn't strong enough to stop on her own. Maybe if she had enough knowledge, the right tactics she could have won. But she didn't, she wasn't prepared. 

Alex knew she would never let that happen again.

So as she stared at the bundle of clothes, small patches of red dotted the bottom of the trouser legs, she wanted to get it as far away as possible, as in, dig a hole set it on fire then bury the ashes. 

She wanted to forget. 

Alex wanted with all of her heart to go back and completely change the outcome of that fight to the point where she didn't feel how she did when her mother died.

Scared.

Fear was a big part of her life, the little bits of fear that kept you cautious and on your toes. But this, this fear was primal and consuming. She hated it, hated the way it made her feel. She hated that it was no longer the cautious fear that helped her. 

She wasn't that scared, vulnerable 6-year-old anymore, but she felt like it.

So she did what she does best - lock that fear in the deepest, most concealed part of her brain with all of the other unnecessary emotions and pledged to herself that she would not let this change anything. She was going to work harder, be better and burn Potentia to the ground.

Alex ran an unsteady hand through her hair and stepped out of the bathroom, the clothes scrunched up at the bottom of her laundry basket. She could still hear James pottering around downstairs. It had been at least 45 minutes at this point and her stomach was growling louder than before. Hoping she wouldn't go down to find ashes and destruction where the modern, sleek kitchen should be, she stepped lightly down the stairs and headed towards the sounds. When she entered the room she found the table laid with a creamy spinach and pea pasta and a leafy salad with what looked like a fresh loaf of bread next to some olive oil, not to mention a gleaming kitchen with all traces of dust and blood wiped from every surface.

She honestly couldn't contain her surprise.

"Huh, hadn't pegged you as a cooking type."

Her statement made James leap into the air, turning with a startled expression and a hand over his heart.

"Jesus, you're so damn quiet. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Well, that would be funny. Can you force it next time? Just give me some warning so I can film it and put it on YouTube."

He raised and eyebrow at her. "But if that happened, who would make all of this delicious food for you?"

James had a point. Alex could cook, sure, but her skills were not the most honed. "Eh, well let's see if it tastes any good before you start bragging and your ego inflates to the size of Russia."

As if only realising she was downstairs and not resting in bed, James narrowed his eyes at her. "Hold on. What do you think you're doing, here?"

"I am staying here. I mean, this is my house."