Page 125 of Obsession

“What’s your name?” I ask, ignoring the irritated look Aris sends me.

The leader’s eyes dart between the two of us, obviously conflicted on what to do. On one hand, he was told not to address me. On the other, would it offend Aris even more to ignore me?

“She asked for your name,” Aris mutters grumpily.

“Riggs,” the man replies. “I’m a former Navy SEAL and worked for twenty years as a hostage negotiator. It’s good to meet you both.”

“‘Good to meet us?’ Don’t lie now, Riggs! You were doing so well.” Aris looks at me with a smile. “Now, Mary, isn’t a seal an animal?”

Riggs straightens. “It stands for—”

“I don’t actually care, and I believe we’ve gotten off track with pleasantries and talk of marine life.” Aris jostles me before nodding at Riggs. “You are here for a peace discussion, on behalf of the world. Get on with it.”

“Well, yes…” The man swallows. He looks like he had a script, one Aris refuses to stick to; he is pivoting and doesn’t know where to go next. He says, eventually, “My team and I have been asked to gauge your intentions. To barter, if we can. Are there requests you have, anything we could get for you?”

“Anything that I want, I get for myself,” Aris says, drumming his fingers on my thigh. “I would not receive anything from a human, and you know this. Speak plainly.”

Another brief silence. Weighted and awkward.

“You haven’t acted for the past six months,” Riggs says, voice strained. “If that means you’re willing to coexist, we can reach some kind of agreement.”

Coexist.

I stand slowly, Aris reluctantly letting me slip away. He lets out a faint sound to express his disagreement with the action, but he does not pull me back to him.

“Mary,” he says when I begin to approach the group, a warning in his voice. I ignore him, as I so rarely do, because there is something…

“What you’re doing…” My mind clouds, a memory, half of a memory, lingering on the edges of a scattered mind. “It won’t work,” I finally say.

Get out of here, idiots. Morons. You’re all going to die.

The rush of anger surprises me—enough that I stumble and almost miss the movement of one of the men raising his weapon, aiming it in my direction.

Fear overrides frustration, and I still halfway on my descent of the dais.

“She’s right there!” says the one with the gun. My eyes catch on the barrel and his hand on the trigger. “Screw you, whore!”

The word—

Whore.

Why does it stun me? Why does it pierce me so cleanly?

Before I can respond or try to understand the escalating situation, he fires.

Aris is suddenly in front of me, catching the bullet inches from my heart. We share a look as he grips it between his index finger and thumb, face dark, and I know I’ll be in trouble later. I should not have gotten up; I should not have spoken at all.

Why did I?

What was it that caused me to act?

I don’t remember, and now Aris is frustrated with me. My face gets hot with anger and embarrassment. Why did I have to displease him?

Aris turns away from me, facing the men. He stares at them cooly, flicking the bullet off of his thumb. It shoots across the room, embedding itself in the wall behind the man who fired at me. Inches from his skull.

There is a single pause, and then, the guns turn to ash in the men’s hands. The one who fired becomes ash, too, with a final, gasping breath.

“You will all die now,” Aris states as Ryan comes forward to join the two of us.

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