He was standing a few feet away. Just standing there, out in the open, on the street I had just walked on to get to where I was now. The usual get-up, black as night. Mask, gloves, clothing. Check.

He held my gaze through the sunglasses for a few moments. Then he walked off, cool as a cucumber. Separating two blocks of apartments was this small alley and he took that. It went to the back street, a dirty place of trash and junk.

I didn't even hesitate. I had defeated him last time, I could do it again. It was clear he wasn't going to leave me alone, so I might as well take every chance I can get to expose him.

He was standing next to a dumpster, arms behind his back, feet planted shoulder-width apart.

The moment I came into view he took off at a sprint, charging at me. I managed to dodge his attack - until his left hand came up swinging. With a pair of very practical steel scissors.

The tip of the scissors sliced my cheek. I snarled and leapt backwards, touching the wound. Blood.

B-b-but I have a grand social function coming up! Sob sob!

I narrowed my eyes. He was getting serious. Well then, so should I. I reached a hand under my shirt and pulled out my knife. It was a hunting knife, made of serrated brass with a cherrywood hilt. In a lazy, ostentatious gesture I twirled it round my fingers.

"You've upped your game," was all I said before I dashed forward to strike.

The knife whipped and arced in a blur. The first few strikes missed, but at my fourth attempt he couldn't dodge in time. The tip of the blade nicked the bridge of his sunglasses and sent them flying away from his face. 

He ducked his head low immediately, his right hand coming up to his face, covering his eyes. The penknife remained pointed my way. He still had his face mask on, and it was only his eyes that were exposed. 

"Giving up yet?" I asked. "I can kill you, you know. I mean, I have a hunting knife. You have scissors. And really, though I commend you on your ingenuity of using household items - "

He growled and lunged. I gave a light hop back and ducked in below, dealing a strong blow to his stomach with the hilt of my knife, before finishing with an uppercut.

He reeled backwards. I twirled my knife. "Now now. It's rude to interrupt someone when they're speaking . . . pretty boy," I added for extra measure.

Ahaha, he really doesn't like that.

He lunged again. He was like a clumsy, enraged bull. Impulsive hot blood. The scissors swiped wildly, almost getting me a second time. Emphasis on the almost. I evaded it and executed a stomping kick. It missed, barely, and I followed up with a back swing kick. He dodged that too, but by then he was backed up to the dumpster, and I punched him several times. 

Several violent times. 

He could have blocked my attacks. Or at least defended his torso. He did try, but he only used one hand, the one holding the scissors, and one hand allowed too much gaps for me to make contact with skin.

His left hand remained, persistently and stubbornly, hovering over his eyes. 

Not allowing me to see. 

He will rather risk the pain and hurt, than letting me see his eyes.

I paused for a fraction of a second and he sidestepped, fast, away and out of my reach. Hand still covering his eyes. I narrowed mine.

And I asked, "Do I know you?"

No reply. No movement. No gesture.

I went on. "You don't let me see your eyes. You don't speak. Not even to swear. And you're not a mute, because you can grunt from pain. You just don't speak. So there's only one explanation.

"You're afraid I'll instantly recognize you." 

Naturally he responded with his standard answer. A frontal assault. My words must have really riled him up, because this time he moved his hand away from his eyes and used both to swing punch after punch. His head he kept low, so still I could not see his eyes. Mysterious much? The scissors were whistling and stabbing, going everywhere in their ferocity. I was so intent on dodging them that I didn't see his other hand coming up. It hit my face, on my right cheek, hard and brutal, right on the wound he had given me earlier in the fight. The blow was a combination of a punch and slap.

Slap-punch. Punch-slap?

I had to admit, I lost a bit of my cool there. I didn't want to kill him - an alive man could answer my questions. But it didn't mean I couldn't hurt him.

I raised my hand high, going up as if about to stab down on his chest. He ducked low, his body curving to his right to avoid the potential blow. What he didn't see however, was that my raised hand was an empty closed fist, and that it was my left that held the hunting knife. With his body tilted to his right, he was close to my left hand and I brought it up now. 

The knife made a sickening tearing sound as it ripped through his shirt and into his arm, leaving a jagged rut of blood from above his elbow to his shoulder. 

 He yelled and stumbled backwards, clutching his wound and hissing through his teeth. I couldn't resist.

"If you're from Black and Tan, you guys are terrible," I spat. "That's twice you've lost to me in a row. Anyone can tell you're a goddamn amateur. Your hands were shaking a little when you held that knife, did you know that? If you aren't confident enough to do it, then don't!"

I took a step closer. "If you want to kill me, do it properly. And the next time you find me, you better bring a much better weapon than those measly sewing scissors. Or maybe there won't be a next time. Maybe I'll just kill you now - "

His hand moved so fast I didn't detect the motion. There was a loud firecracker pop, followed by a bright, blinding spark. I flinched instinctively. There was some sort of a smoke too, billowing everywhere, getting into my nose and throat. I coughed, hacking breaths, and my eyes watered. 

By the time I gathered my senses he was gone. 

*

"You might want to hurry up, sweetheart. I don't have all day."

I gritted my teeth at the edge in his voice. I was in a clothing store, where the cheapest dress costed 500 bucks. Jasper had came for me in a limo and whisked me away right here. The moment I stepped into the store an assistant had magically appeared, taking me by the arm. With a benign smile he pushed me into a changing room, where a dress - oh I'm sorry, evening gown - was waiting for me. After several minutes I got the hang of the fabric and came out of the room, only to be set down in a chair, where a make-up artist proceeded to work her magic, all the while pressing her thin lips together - in disapproval, I assume. 

Exhaling, I gingerly bunched up my skirts and exited the room. Jasper was sitting in a couch, flicking idly through some men's magazine. He cut a rather dashing portrait today with his white tuxedo. 

"I told you I preferred blue over red, didn't I?" I accused.

He looked up. It wasn't surprise that crossed his face - rather it was smug satisfaction. As if I was a product on the assembly line that had turned out well. 

"So you did. Isn't that a gorgeous dress?"

And I had to admit it was. It was a red halter neck masterpiece, that clung to my figure in all the right places. A silver belt cinched my waist, while silver beads decorated the neckline. And let's not even go into the shoes

I bet if you asked Miss Queen Bee she would know, but right now all I knew was that they were expensive. Really expensive. And straining on my heels. I didn't know how people could walk in this. Still don't.

Jasper snapped his fingers and the assistant came with the bill. Another person handed me a small purse, with a delicate gold chain. I stared at it.

"It's a black satin clutch bag with a diamante flower design," the girl supplied. 

Well yes, I totally knew that. "Um. Sure. But I already have a bag so . . . "

"Not anymore." I looked at Jasper. He signed off the receipt with a flourish and interlaced his fingers together as he looked at me.

"I threw it away."

Well. Rude! "You what? Why?"

He shrugged. "It stank up my car."

Excusez-moi? I just bought that bag last week when I moved here! And it was way more practical than this teensy little thing I was holding! You could barely fit a phone and purse in there. We girls have needs. What if we had our monthly blues? Where am I suppose to stuff my spare sanitary pads then? Or my emergency supply of chocolate mints?

I glowered at him. He rose languidly from the couch and walked over, his pianist-like fingers reaching out to adjust the minute details of my dress. 

"You're my fiancee, Hayley." His voice was quiet, as if speaking to an irrational child. "People have expectations. A fixed image in their heads. And you will comply to it."

I tilted my chin, defiant. "Then why did you even ask for my opinion in the first place, when it was clear you weren't planning on following it?"

He tapped my chin lightly. "To give you the illusion of control, of course. Bluntly put, to make you believe that you have freedom of choice - when actually you don't." 

He offered me his arm. "Shall we?" That smile again.

We went back inside the limousine. I was still fuming. The driver started the engine and I turned around to pull the safety belt. When I turned back around it was to see that Jasper had leaned across from his seat, and one pale porcelain finger was reaching out to touch my cheek. To touch the cut I had received just recently. The gesture was eerily gentle. My head jerked back a little, but otherwise stayed in place.

"Now how did my fiancee get that?" he murmured. 

I didn't blink. "I tripped and hit the edge of a table."

"Ah. Pity."

I thought he would move away then, but instead he moved closer. His black eyes flicked up to look at mine, and I could see right into them. Dark, dangerous, devoid of soul.

He looked back down, tilting his head, his eyes following his long index finger as it moved. From my cheek down to my jaw, slow and feather-like. The silence was absolute. The air-conditioning was the only sound to be heard, a steady hum in the background of the car. Along with our breathing. Jasper's was so calm, almost inaudible, a quiet whisper of air every time he inhaled and exhaled. 

Steady. Emotionless. Unmoved. 

Me? My entire being was snapped taut, tense, my breaths coming and going through parted lips. I was struggling not to hyperventilate at his closeness, and trust me when I say it was not because of his luscious wavy locks and chiseled Greek statue-like features. I was a bird cornered by a pawing cat, that might or might not be hungering for its lunch. 

His finger moved all the way to my chin and I had a sudden crazy thought that he was about to do what Mr Hood had did. Brush his thumb across my lip. His touch woke goosebumps in my skin, and was almost affectionate, caressing. Almost . . . loving.

Until all five fingers reached out to encircle themselves around my throat, closing like a Venus fly-trap snapping around a fly, shutting off my oxygen with one vicious, effortless grip. I let out a strangled gasp, choking, my hands flying up to claw at his. He dragged me close, and the only emotion he showed was in his eyes, in that merciless, demented glint. 

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart." It wasn't even a snarl. It wasn't even a demand or an order or an angry growl. It was just carefully calculated emphasis, placed on every syllable. To make sure I got the message.

I was going to pass out. He didn't let go for several moments, but when he did he did it with a hard shove, almost as if I disgusted him. My skull hit the headrest as I gasped for air.

His black eyes stared back at me. 

Steady. Emotionless. Unmoved.

In the end I told him everything. He listened without interrupting, those eyes of his never leaving mine. I finished, and there came long agonizing seconds as I waited for his response.

When it came, it was only one word.

"Careless." He shook his head, an almost imperceptible movement. "You let him know where you live. You let him wound your cheek."

I bit the inside of my lip to stop myself from bursting out in protest.

"And you taunted him." A strange sort of a gleam came into Jasper's eyes. They were like mini pools of black water, the center an obsidian hard jewel that caught the light. "Who knew my darling sweetheart could be so mocking and cruel?"

I held my tongue.

"We're here," the driver announced. 

The house was even bigger than the ones I had seen in Sandalwood Heights. Inside, it was all velvet drapes and lush Persian carpets, along with floor-to-ceiling glass walls. They slid open when you pressed a button. A butler checked our names off the list and brought us in.

This house has a ballroom! We entered and Jasper leaned down a little to whisper in my ear. 

"Mingle. And try not to stand out like a sore thumb. I did all I could for your physical appearance, so now it's up to you."

I must say, this man is terrible at giving compliments. I nodded curtly, and he let go of my arm to walk off. Just before he slipped into the crowd of guests, he stopped and turned around. Walked back to me. 

Leaning down yet again, his velvet voice was soft and gentle.

"You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart." And he planted a tender kiss on my cheek.

My heart is not racing. My heart is not accelerating. My heart is not picking up speed. 

Dammit.

I didn't know anything about this place - not the people who lived here or the things they did. All I know was that they were acquainted to Jasper in some way, and that probably meant that they did less-than-legal things. Or at least, dabble in them from time to time. 

All the men wore tuxedos and all the ladies were in elegant evening gowns. And yes, all of them had a fancy bag dangling off their shoulders or clutched in their hands. I thought back to the denim shoulder bag I had bought - and that Jasper had thrown away. Rest in peace, my friend, rest in peace. Know that you did well and will be judged favorably.

 I navigated the crowd and fixed a permanent smile on my face, greeting those who happened to catch my eye. After about five minutes I found what I was searching for.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; you raise me up to walk on stormy seas. I am strong when I am on your shoulders; you raise me up to more than I can be . . .

My footsteps quickened as everything on display came into view. The cafeteria food had been a whole new experience to me - especially the yellow cuboids they called fries, I never had them in the manor - but now I saw this! This was amazing! I wanted to try it all!

I picked up something small and round and topped with a prawn. I was seconds away from putting it in my mouth when a voice spoke in my ear.

Soft.

Gentle.

Familiar.

"Did you miss me . . . Tigress?"

*.*.*.*. *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Ooooh. 

OOOOOOOOOOOOH. 

This chapter is dedicated to RamblingBrooks, an account with a whole bunch of contests and prizes to be won. A great venue to expand and enhance any writer's potential! They make trailers too, so go take a look-see, look-see . . . 

And sorry for the late update! :( Uni life huh?