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CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Last Updated:
2025-02-16 23:50:45
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************ I was just trying to whisper out my distressing tale to Kalmia. "I don't know...I'm getting tired," was what I almost whispered, weighty as this particular discussion was about our investigation-the extensive researching hours and endless leadless cat-chases. It had been suffocating. I am drowning in the ocean of confusion with no lifeline around. But Kalmia responded to that immediately. "No, baby, please don't say that," she said urgently, almost in an insulted tone. "We can't back out now, not when we finally got it." It was almost like a shot of adrenaline into my system, with its reaction speeding up in me again. The conversation turned back on topic after the ringing of my phone. My eyes fell on the screen displaying Joseph's name. I paused at the moment and thought of whether I should answer it or not, but the hopeful gesture from Kalmia egged me to pick it up. "Joseph," I stated with an unyielding tone, calling him on speaker. His voice became alive and then i
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KALMIA’S POV In that moment, when he closed the distance, my eyelids began to stretch open wide, and my heart raced with doom. My heart traveled through my mind, but my feet were frozen in place. He came to a halt only when he reached my position. His hands slapped on the sides of my body against the wall, effectively trapping me. It made me horrified as well as angry to realize that I was cornered. "What are you up to, Mr. Man?" Drawing on every ounce of my control not to tremble, I demanded. In reply, he merely broke into a wicked laughter, a sneer stretching his lips that sent ice through my veins. I might have exploded at that moment, a kettle boiling over from a stove that had been left unattended. I was so angry, I didn't think before pushing him with all my strength. My hands hit his chest, and he stumbled backward, crashing against the table. The table couldn't take the weight, splintering and sending fragments flying outwards. Like I had a vision of his demise, heartre
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KALMIA’S POV I stood at the mouth of the compound, surveying the surroundings, mind racing with apprehensive thoughts that settled so deeply in me. The glorious sun beat down on my skin-even then, a chill finger ran down my spine at the thought of that suspicious, unknown man lurking about in shadow. Turning to the gate man, Jacob, my voice firm but tinged with a hint of concern, ready to boil over into full-blown anxiety. "Have you seen any strange or unknown man in this compound?" I asked with a glare in his direction, searching for an answer to any relief in his hesitation or deception. The light of my gaze fell on him, my eyes trying to pry the truth from the web he had spun with his words. Jacob squirmed beneath my scrutiny, his eyes darting back and forth like a trapped animal seeking a way out. The gatekeeper Jacob nodded slowly, his head drooped, remembering some dreadful thing he was trying hard to forget. "Yes, ma'am, I did," he muttered, voice straining away from him l
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************* We were just halfway through supper when we were suddenly struck by a scream that rented all the air and shattered the meal. The words spoken, of course, were almost inaudible; yet the tone was unmistakably clear-an expression of despair and anguish, full of dread, and very quickly sending a chill through my spine. "Who's that?" I asked Jacob quickly, with eyes wide open in curiosity and concern, my head turning toward him with expectation to know who could be crying. I waited, leaning over the table on my elbows, with my fingers tightly entwined, for Jacob to complete his response while the argument persisted and became more raucous, stubborn as a mule, my anxiety feeding upon it. While Jacob's eyes flicked almost afraidly towards the window, he breathed, as "I don't know, madam," he said, "Maybe it's that stranger.” Suddenly, I remembered that the odd man was still in the compound, and an ill-restrained smile crept over my face. A shock from the stranger seemed funn
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****************An interrogation-like calm would accompany the oft-pondered reply from Jacob: "Should we beat him, Ma?" The sound of it was neither warm nor cold but rather mellow and more comforting than the summer breeze, yet it carried a hint of curiosity. "Shouldn't we?" I pondered, taking a deep breath, wanting to calm my heart, looking at the weighable options. Tension in the air: to weigh the pros and cons, to picture everything possible. "No, no, no, let's not beat him," was how I responded, almost in a whisper. I shook my head slightly, almost imperceptibly, with an authority that felt almost palpable. "So he wouldn't die, then we won't take laws into our own hands," I rushed in saying-willing my thought to somehow construct an explanation. Piling before him were my confused thoughts and equally conflicting feelings, all seeming to pour with such urgent importance. Jacob considered what I said while nodding thoughtfully, not removing his eyes from mine. His mask-like calm
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"I miss you so much, darling," I whispered, hardly audible. "I feel like kissing you right now," I added, my tone having an odd quality, verging on confession. Anticipation clung in the stillness all around us, the kind of omen that suggested it was hammering within every nerve of my being. I could almost visualize Arrow just beside me, his lips a hair's breadth from mine, his breath humid against my skin. In that comforting low voice, Arrow said, "Please take a seat on the bed," his words echoing over the phone. Even so, his voice sheltered me somewhere where a warm summer breeze often walks by, couraging sensations, making me feel secure about that moment wrapped around his arms. His voice was the balm for my aching soul, granting comfort and certainty despite all odds of distance. Despite the fact that you were clung to a nurturing embrace, still conjuring up that memory of an enormous love- cuddling arms. Going to sleep with him, eyelids heavy and body almost melting into what fe
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*************The body bruises and they speak of an action that he must have suffered at some time in the past. All the pains and sufferings have been engraved, in a sort of visual manner, on his very body. My heart ached for him, as this very sadness welled up in me, as if I had a deep well overflowing with sorrow. Let him go, please, let go of him, I was saying, as my heart broke with every word, and my eyes were welling with tears of sorrow and pity. Almost teary, my vision blurred; I watched the man's battered body, his spirit apparently crushed by the brutality meted out to him.But Jacob's face betrayed nothing; his eyes were cold, telling me he was unmoved by the man's suffering; it was indifferent, the kind of look that bore a mask of the emotionally scarred.No, ma, forget that he was pulling your hair; forget that this man slapped you; forget that he walked into your kitchen and ate your food?" The words came slashing through me like cold water that seemed to return me to t
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********** He seemed to feast like one who had a taste for death and had come to the end of all good food. With closed eyes and a face wreathed upward, he savored every chomp, every scent, and the very essence of the food. Slowly but surely-really almost in the fashion of a gentle caress-every morsel found its way to his throat, onwards to his belly, almost as if it were a seduction act. Much thanks, my dearest. The voice was so soft, and the words seemed so genuine that I can almost believe he meant it. Like a gentle stream, the words came from him, flowing endlessly, unabated, as if choking would kill their flow. Who are you? I spoke without delay, my tone firm yet coaxing, attempting to extract the truth gently without pushing him away. You will talk, or we will call the cops, Jacob issued with a threat, his very deep voice sounding authoritative and intimidating, daring the man to contradict the threats. The words hung in the air with an unmistakable weight, like Jacob was tell
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KALMIA’S POV Her words seemed to slice through the air like a knife, and her voice dripped with venom voicing all her discontent. "I never liked you, Kalmia," she said, looking at me with flashing eyes of fury and disdain. There was this sensation of hurt, surprise mixed with confusion as I furrowed my brows to understand the depth of her emotions. "What do you mean?" I queried in a whipser, scanning her countenance for signs of weakness. The bitterness on that face twisted into a smile that shone malignant hues in her eyes. "So you said I hurt you, and I'm apologizing now, this?" My voice had incredulity and frustration laced into it. How could she even think that I would accept that as compensation for all the damage she had done? Memories of past confrontations and betrayals rushed into my consciousness, replete with a sudden surge of fury and spite against her. Visha was a semblance of what one could have guessed-trapped deeply in her emotions, longing and thirsting for an uni
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KALMIA’S POV I wait outside the cell, anxiously glancing at Mr. Isah with a pleading face while panting in anticipation, tinged with a bit of nervousness. "I'm looking forward to seeing my lost sister, Visha," I say, voice almost inaudible, spilling from my mouth like a confession. Mr. Isah inclined his head in deep understanding; his very look was sympathetic, and turned to lead me through the station, his long strides chewing up the distance into nothingness. Strong cold fluorescent light above the hub flickered and hummed, casting a glaring light on those forms. A heavy, cloying scent of disinfectant hovered in the stagnant air, mixed with a cursed faint tang of despair. My footsteps echoed down the walls as I walked with Mr. Isah into the depths of the station. When we arrived at the cell, Mr. Isah grasped the handle and pushed it open in a slow creak before stepping inside, leaving a dim light casting long shadows across the little room. "Visha", I called, my voice so sweet, l
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MR ISAH’S POV I sat at the station in the dark. The soft fluorescent light above cast an eerie glow on the empty chairs and faded floor. Anticipation held my heart in its place, echoing like the drumbeat in my chest throughout my entire being. "Just wai for me, sir," I mumbled to myself with eyes turned toward the phone, where a text from Kalmia said: "I'm on my way", flashing on the screen like a light at the end of a tunnel. "Okay then," I said to myself, slumping back in the chair, a wave of relief washing through my being with the straightening of my spine on the worn-out issue. Time moved forward, and in this losing dusky space, each second was a drag for eternity. I checked my watch what would seem like a million times but felt like the hundredth. My eyes scanned the entire empty station that was growing more impatient with each passing second. The silence clamped down hard, occasionally punctuated with the creaks in the old building and traffic buzzing outside. I shifted in
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MR ISAH’S POV Between walls of thickest warm air, bound by oppressive scents of sweat mingled with fear, I could hardly draw breath, and every breath that I drew seemed to carry some foreign weight crushing into my chest. Visha sat all hunched over in the wooden bench; shoulders barely perceptibly shook; her eyes looked down, refusing to meet mine, locked in mute insubordination to the unasked questions between us. A stubborn silence, thick and impenetrable, stretched between us and with every passing moment added that still very coiled tension within me. "Visha, I'm not answering any of your questions," she finally whispered, so softly it was hard to hear, like a thin thread in an oppressive hush. Although soft, the words smote me with the force of a corporeal blow, burning up the sparks of fury that had been at hand ever so low. "Then okay," I replied in said low, almost dangerous tone, "you are going to do that pen now." It was just a matter-of-fact statement, in the air of an
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MR ISAH’S POV The officer was swift in his movements as he quickly went to handcuff himself and brought out the cold, cruel metal that condemned even the eye of authority under fluorescent light. He moved with practiced ease as he snapped the iron restraints for the inevitable fate into place around Visha's wrists, the cliched sound like that of a prison door shutting. A clang like that of metal sounded ominously echoed around the cell. "No, ooooo," she screamed, her voice raising up in a desperate crescendo, trying to free herself from the steel cage. With her contorted body, she twisted and thrashed to no avail, digging deep the cruel bite of the cuffs into her skin. That metal sparkled like it was catching the light with a sinister radiance, almost seeming to taunt her with the cold, unyielding grip of reality. Her wrists seemed to have strained against the bindings, tendons standing out clearly as she struggled. As she fought against the handcuffs and began gasping more and mor
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VISHA’S POV About halfway through scaling the fence and reaching the top of the pole with my hands, I strained to boost myself up when I heard behind me the crunch of gravel footsteps. That sudden noise sent a bolt of dread surging through me, and I froze, fretting beneath the pumped rush of my heart. It left my mind blank with a complete psychological paralysis that made it difficult for me to think or even move. "I arrest you," he declared, his voice reverberating through the night, sounding almost like a funeral bell. This revitalized my stupor like splashes of cold water. Officer's words put in the air the formality of that situation. "Come down," they commanded him, sounding strenuous and authoritative in tone. There was that swell of reluctance, the unwillingness of my body to listen, but I knew I had no choice. I began easing myself down and letting the hands slip from the fence as I fell to the ground. Every footfall driving into the ground became deafeningly loud like som
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VISHA’S POV I was sitting in my office, lit only by the computer screen glimmering on my face as I awaited the emergence of this very message on my desktop. A rush of anxious happiness surged through me; my heart raced with expectancy. With a purpose that was near to mania, my fingers began to type as I opened the message that contained the address for the person we had chased for so long. I felt like an electrifying spark coursing through my body: it was time. Without hesitation, I activated working mode; execution took over—just like one hundred thousand times before. "Men!" I yelled to my team, sturdy and decisive, like a thunderclap in the office. My boys, all junior in rank to me, came flocking to my side in a state of excitement and anticipation. "Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" they said in chorus, almost kneeling before me. Expectation filled their eyes. I instructed them articulately and brief, my tone steady and calm. "Get the van ready, we need to arrest a suspect," I uttered. T
A DEAL WITH THE BILLIONAIRE CHAPTER NINETY ONE
ARROW’S POV I dialed Mr. Isah's line, my fingers seemingly having a mission of their own, as I anticipated his pick-up. I had known Mr. Isah since I was a boy and now a cop; I could always count on him for something: a source of counsel and support. The ringing gave me a major sense of relief. I was calling someone who might help. "Is he on yet?" Kalmia asked me, curious and worried. I nodded and kept my eyes glued to that phone, waiting for Mr. Isah to pick up. "Yes, my love; do not worry," I tried reassuring her that everything would work out. When Mr. Isah finally picked up, I cheerfully said, "Good day, Mr. Isah." "Good day, Arrow; how have you been?" came the deep and authoritative reply from the other end. I smiled; it had been a comforting voice through time. "Very well, sir," I answered, almost overacting in my calmness and composure. "Ah, that's good to hear; what do you need from me today?" was his cordial tone. I inhaled deeply to compose myself and start the reason for
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ARROW’S POV I leaned against her, my neck muscles relaxed as they reveled in relief. She would sit better or worse besides me, and I felt that gladness in having her there. The two of us stood for some time, just holding on to each other-the tension and chaos of the outside world momentarily forgotten. I knew as well that I was looking toward whatever was next with Kalmia; no matter what it was, we would get through it together. I felt thankful that it was there. I softly parted from her, grabbing Kalmia’s gaze. "I have to find out what this Visha has on me," I continued, resolutely now, the weight of my words pressing against her. "I don't know what lies between us, but I want to learn what she knows about my mother." Kalmia had that thinking pose painted all over her: eyes slightly narrowed as she measured me up. "I wonder if that's wise," she spoke. It had a rather content reluctance. "I don't care." Instead, the more resolved I grew, the steadier grew my voice. "I must have t
