Taunted Mercy

Chapter One

__________

Eira

You don’t want to stay for dinner?

I shake my head, waving a hand toward the distracted child on the couch as I slip my shoes back on. My nose twitches as a whiff of rusted copper cuts through the delicious spices. It seems to be coming from the vents, and my coworker shows no discomfort on her face.

No, thanks for the offer, I decline softly to not wake the sleeping baby in my coworker’s arms. It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to disturb you.

Oh, please, she says with a scoff and a rough jab of her thumb toward the hall. My baby doesn’t even cry when my husband snores.

As if her husband heard, a resounding snort breaks the peaceful tension. I laugh into my hand and wish her goodnight.

Thanks for coming all the way here, she says again, hawk eyes lingering on the front door that’s ajar.

She’s been on maternity leave for a couple of weeks now, and she told our supervisor she’s itching to do something other than childcare. I had nothing to do after work, so I offered to bring the work to her without thinking too far ahead.

Specifically, I didn’t think about the location.

To outsiders, this is a typical high-rise condominium with a gorgeous view of the flourishing garden in a well-maintained neighborhood.

It’s also in the heart of Asa’s territory.

The chances of running into that man have skyrocketed since the moment I crossed the property line. It’s too late to beat myself up for not taking precautions or at least wearing a disguise. Before the thought of faxing important documents to my coworker manifests in my head, I hastily wave them away.

I still have a chance to make a smooth exit without running into him.

Everyone says Asa is akin to a vengeful spirit; he’ll only show up to hurt you, but you can still feel his presence everywhere without him being there.

Not surprising, though. He has a lot of unsavory characters working for him willingly.

The rumors are as true as they can get, so I’m grateful for never having to meet him. If the law can’t handle criminals and somehow Asa can, then that’s a person I will avoid at all costs.

Fate, however, believes my life is too boring.

A frantic man knocks me down, the tumble bringing with it a burning sensation in the back of my head and blinding white lights infused with black splotches. My stomach roils as sharp throbs dig into the tender muscles, and the pain drives an acidic tingle up my throat.

Don’t panic, a purring baritone says soothingly. You’re good.

My eyes blur with unshed tears, but I can make out the large shadow hovering over me. The moon splitting the starry darkness is deceptively lulling when his face ingrains into my spinning head.

Handsome, a subtle smile plucking at my heartstrings, and voice of captivating snares—a detrimental mistake to be called a man when he is the epitome of desirability. So handsome, like a prince in a fairy tale.

He turns and sighs softly. Remember to lock your door, ma’am.

Always do, sir, my coworker utters, alert.

Crisp air burns any expanse of skin whether or not my body is touching the hallway’s freezing floor. My frantic gaze strays to my coworker in time to see her wave goodbye before closing the door quietly.

I wheeze while puffs of air crumble in my lungs as the collapsed man hurries to free himself from me. My sore body takes an elbow to the gut and a sinewy knee to the shin while the man flails.

Asa’s crisscross-laced boot jams into the man’s skull, knocking him to the side and bashing his back against the concrete wall. An unceremonious crack has shivers racing down my arms as I scramble to find my footing.

I feel a little faint, trying to wrap my head around what just happened, hardly noticing the gentle yet firm grip on my arm. The same big, rough hand leaves heated fingerprints on my skin and runs over my spine like it’s petting a trapped animal needing to be calmed and saved.

Did he hurt you? Asa asks, voice passive.

The vibration from his chest tickles my arm as he gives my shoulder another firm squeeze to steady me. His warmth lingers after he pulls away, leaving several inches between us to simply stare at me.

No, I mumble, side-eyeing the heaving man on the floor. It was an accident.

It wasn’t, Asa hums and shifts his unwavering gaze back to me. He should’ve watched where he was going. I’ll have a talk with him.

The tawny color in his eyes reminds me of melted caramel with golden rings rimming the borders. A honey trap, one I’m instantly falling for when the corners of his lips lift to a soft smile.

That’s not— My teeth scrape my tongue and end my voice there.

His smile never falters, only spreading wider with such innocence that it takes my nails biting into my palms to not squirm away from him.

It’s no problem, he insists.

Asa wasn’t asking for my opinion; he was merely making sure I had a vague idea of what would happen to the agitated man.

Could you get that for me? Asa asks, pointing at the briefcase behind me.

I peer over my shoulder and note the red skid marks leading to the briefcase. I swallow and nod promptly. He whispers praise under his breath, but it’s too soft to know what exactly he says.

Swiping the stained, sticky, and heavy briefcase into my hands, I hold on to the thought of it being red-dyed corn syrup and not blood. It’s a valid hope because I’m going to scream from cowardice.

Who wouldn’t when they’re faced with someone whose reputation gets worse every day?

After a long moment of cheering myself on and wanting to flee from this grave situation, I turn around and am about to shove it into his arms, but he’s already dragging the fighting man by his dislocated arm.

The thought of hurling the briefcase at Asa dies abruptly, and a wondrous thrill settles in my churning stomach. I could’ve been the one with the dislocated arm.

Sometimes overthinking and slow reactions are lifesaving.

Asa glances over his broad shoulder and smiles. Just a couple doors down.

I shouldn’t; my mind picks up on the words over millions of other thoughts.

However, my body warns through sharp pinches. I hurry after him, actively avoiding the trails of blood on the ground that won’t be there in the morning. Nobody would mention what they heard or saw the night before because that’s how Asa likes it.

Pretend he’s not there, pretend he’s not after you next, and you pretend you don’t catch him smiling at you. It’s far more believable that he’s more excited to kill you than like you.

One of my 2021 resolutions is to keep on being unnoticeable. Apparently, that’s asking too much.

For a lawful state, this city is lawless. A city of daunting skyscrapers, eight-dollar bottled water, and sophistication. Yet only locals know the core of this pristine city is a rotting color of veiled oppression.

This part of Seattle is run by two opposing groups, neither willing to back down and compromise on a territorial line.

One boss likes to keep his hands clean, standing over his men while they risk their lives for him as he drinks his expensive wine and eats expensive wagyu beef.

Asa prefers to do the dirty work on his own. Oftentimes, rumors of him always soaked in blood with menacingly gleeful eyes align with experiencing it in person.

I saw him once, and it was through a second-story window. Never have I felt window glass come so close to shattering. I’m certain that if he looked over his shoulder, the window would’ve exploded just by the sheer force of his presence.

A groaning squeal and the familiar stench of copper reeks through the air. I repress the need to gag as he angles his massive body to fling the thrashing man into the apartment unit, but not before letting his head hit the door’s frame.

Don’t look, pretty baby, or you’ll get nightmares, he warns, and it’s hard not to take the gentle tone to heart.

He’s dangerous, with violence threaded into the black ink on his skin and the double-edged sword of persuasive kindness.

His keen eyes appear under the cast shadow as he holds the frame of the door still. I blanch upon realizing that there is something more frightening inside than he’s letting on.

Asa takes the dirty briefcase from me and tosses it into the apartment. The metal edges clank on the wood before a dull thump comes.

I drag my divided focus to my trembling hands, and the smeared blood seeps into the wrinkles of my palms. Asa shoots me an apologetic smile and takes my hands, hot fingers stinging the skin around my wrists.

He wipes my hands on his tight black shirt, the smile never leaving his devilishly handsome face. I resist indulging in the urge