Russian Roulette /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿
CHAPTER 17
“A game, you say?”
Alex Reed let out a disbelieving scoff before his expression hardened with clear hostility.
“Do you take our work for a child’s game?”
“Perhaps children these days take gambling as play.”
“Gambling?”
“A gamble is the fairest kind of deal. The outcome rests entirely on a single card.”
Vicente placed the open personnel file back onto the desk, leaving Tessa’s picture upside down, staring back at Alex. The way it was positioned—like The Hanged Man in a tarot spread—was almost poetic.
Alex eyed him warily, much like a stray cat sensing danger. He was trying to discern if Vicente was concealing some hidden trick behind his seemingly straightforward offer.
“No need to look at me like that. I genuinely want to play a game with you.”
“And what kind of game is this, exactly?”
“Simple. We each place our bets on where Tessa Ambrose’s loyalty will fall. No other conditions. Will she remain your obedient dog, or will she come to my side? Aren’t you curious about the outcome?”
“Why go through all this for someone who’s going to die anyway?”
“Because it would be a waste to simply throw her away. Don’t you people in the Intelligence Bureau have even a shred of compassion?”
The last remark was more of a jest. Vicente was hardly the type of man to use words like ‘compassion’ sincerely.
Alex couldn’t quite figure out why Vicente was so invested in a low-tier Sentinel he had never even met. But Vicente had no grand ulterior motive.
At first, it had been mere curiosity—she was tied to him in some way, so he had taken an interest. And the more he thought about it, the more intrigued he became about her future.
She was too foolishly loyal to be discarded so easily.
And Vicente? He was quite skilled at taming dogs.
Would Tessa yield to his hand, or would she bare her fangs until the very end, dragged off to her slaughter?
Sometimes, Vicente became addicted to his own curiosity. This was one of those times.
If she remained untamed, then that was that.
But if she broke…
Vicente let his mind wander to the satisfaction he would feel upon winning the game.
What kind of expression would she make when she learned that he was her true Guide?
Right now, Vicente was her only salvation. Which meant he could claim her entirely, down to the very core.
An intoxicating kind of ownership.
“If Tessa remains loyal to you, I’ll consider it my loss. In that case, I’ll grant you any one request. No exceptions, no take-backs. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
For the first time, Alex’s gaze wavered. He didn’t immediately take the bait, though. Instead, he asked:
“And if we lose?”
“If Tessa chooses my side, then I decide what happens to her. The Bureau will erase all records of her existence. However—” Vicente smirked slightly. “Even if I win, I don’t plan on letting her live for long.”
“So the only thing we have to bet is Tessa herself?”
“I’m only interested in seeing how the game plays out.”
Win or lose, the Bureau wouldn’t be giving up much. Even if they handed over a single agent, the chances of it snowballing into a real problem were slim. After all, Tessa was just a C-rank Sentinel—nothing more than a disposable field agent.
Alex was still suspicious of Vicente’s motives, but the offer was too tempting to dismiss outright.
Anything.
If they played their cards right, they could demand something truly detrimental to Vicente.
But that was the nature of gambling.
The thrill came from the risk.
“…Tell me more about this so-called game of yours.”
“Send Tessa Ambrose to Saint Leroi. Under the pretense of a mission, of course. She mustn’t know that we’ve placed a wager on her.”
“And?”
“From the moment she realizes that I’m her Guide, the game begins.”
“Then?”
“Six months. After six months, I’ll throw out a false lead—bait. You simply have to wait and see if she runs back to you to report it, or if she chooses to turn a blind eye. If she takes the bait and runs back to the Bureau, do with her as you please. Kill her if you want.”
“And how are we supposed to trust that you won’t manipulate her in the meantime?”
Vicente chuckled.
“She’s your well-trained dog, isn’t she? Let’s see if a mere scrap of meat is enough to make her forget her master’s face.”
* * *
Vicente never visited Tessa, not once, until she was cleared for discharge. The only thing she felt were the countless unseen eyes watching her from beyond the darkened window.
With those black-clad men stationed outside her door, the nurses had naturally started avoiding her room.
Not that it mattered. Tessa was a special kind of patient—Sentinels didn’t heal through medicine or standard care. Only a Guide’s touch could mend them.
As a result, even something as simple as delivering her meals became the task of Vicente’s dogs. That day was no different—Tessa was handed a tray by one of Vicente’s surly subordinates.
He stood over her, watching intently as she picked up the spoon.
As if he needed to monitor her in case she choked on her soup and died.
Before she even took a bite, she muttered, “I don’t really feel like eating.”
The subordinate scowled, growling in response.
“Boss’s orders. No skipping meals.”
“You could just pretend I ate.”
“Eat. Now.”
“I said I don’t want to. I have no appetite. Unless you’re going to feed me yourself, don’t force me.”
He looked genuinely torn, as if debating whether or not he should just shove the spoon down her throat. But he knew better than to resort to force.
Everyone had learned their lesson: upsetting Vicente could easily mean the end of them.
“Tch, for fuck’s sake.”
Clearly frustrated, the man clicked his tongue. Tessa, unfazed, simply stared out the window, her voice devoid of emotion.
“I want to go home.”
The realization that she was stuck here, despite being in the capital, hit her harder than she expected. It was ironic—being an orphan meant there was no family to return to, but perhaps that was for the best. If she had someone waiting for her, the longing might have been unbearable.
“You’d better watch your back.”
The subordinate’s voice was sharp with warning, but lacked any real concern.
“Do you really think the boss will let an Intelligence Bureau spy live for long? And you’re talking about home?”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Eat. I won’t say it again.”
“I told you. I want to go home.”
Frustrated beyond measure, the man clenched and unclenched his fists before storming out. Moments later, a group of Vicente’s men entered the room.
They didn’t bother arguing.
They simply grabbed her—hospital gown and all—and dragged her out of the building.
Stuffed into a car like a piece of luggage, Tessa could do nothing but watch as the capital faded into the distance outside the window.
She had no idea how much time had passed before the car finally came to a stop.
The building in front of her was familiar.
It was where she lived.
A part of her had dreaded being taken to Vicente’s residence instead, so she felt a sliver of relief.
Ah, that’s right. House arrest.
Without a word, the men pulled her out of the car and tossed a bag of clothes at her feet. Nothing more.
Click.
The door slammed shut, and the black sedan disappeared down the road, abandoning her.
Tessa watched it go, then turned on her heel and walked into the building, fully aware of the many eyes still watching her.
Her home was just as it had always been—warm, familiar.
Tossing the bag aside, she collapsed onto her bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
* * *
In her dreams, she was back in the capital.
She had finally completed her mission.
The Bureau had even thrown her a welcome-back party.
“You worked hard, Tessa.”
Alex pulled her into a hug, patting her back.
At those words, she couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. She buried her face against him and sobbed.
I’m ruining the atmosphere…
Riiing— riiing—
The sharp ringing of a phone yanked her out of sleep.
Embarrassingly enough, even outside of her dream, she had been crying.
Riiing— riiing—
The phone kept urging her to answer. Sniffling, she wiped her face and picked up the receiver.
Her voice was hoarse as she spoke.
“…Hello.”
— Tessa. I heard you were discharged.
Alex.
Even outside of her dream, he was waiting for her.
Hearing his voice made the remnants of her dream sink deeper into her chest.
Almost unconsciously, Tessa glanced at the bath salts Alex had once sent her through an informant.
But they were gone.
As if they had never been there to begin with.
