Belmont

"Calvos will kill me if he finds me here," Roch muttered irritably, tossing the socket wrench into the gravel. 

 "I'd be surprised if they noticed anything," I mumbled disinterestedly, continuing to scroll on my phone. 

 "You act like he's some petty thief and an idiot," he snapped, so irritated that I looked up. I shrugged. 

"He acts like one." 

 "You're wrong." 

 I shot a questioning glance at the big guy and suspected there was a lot behind his irritation—things I didn't know about—so I decided to find out a little more. 

"What actually happened after we went to New York?" Roch glanced at me briefly before going back to tightening the bolt on the tire he had just changed. 

"Not much." 

 "Are the others still with Calvos?" I pressed on. 

 "Yeah." I studied him for a moment as he knelt by the car. "You never talk about them."

 "There's nothing to say," he muttered. 

 "Why not?" 

 "What does it matter, Belmont?" He wiped the sweat from his forehead and stood up. He was more than a head taller than me, and I had to take a step back to look up at him. "They don't care about the future; it's all about money, blood, and status." 

 I raised an eyebrow. "Unlike you?" 

 He chuckled. "I'm here, right?" 

 I shrugged and checked the time. An hour had passed, and we should have been home by now. I pulled out my phone, and it rang three times before Clock picked up. "Where are you?" 

 "On our way home," I sighed, "we got a flat tire." 

 "Are you done?" he asked quickly. 

 "Everything went as planned," I replied cautiously. 

 "Good, but hurry home," he said impatiently, "something's happened." 

 I bit my lip and fell silent for a moment; his voice sounded frustrated, and I noticed he was stressed. "Good or bad?" 

 "I don't know yet." 

 "Okay, we'll be quick." I hung up and nodded at Roch, who had just thrown the damaged tire into the trunk. "Ready?" 

 "Yup." 

 "Clock wants us to hurry; something's come up." 

 He sighed and shook his head. "What?" 

 "Don't know, but it's serious enough not to talk about it on the phone." We quickly jumped into the car and bounced along the bumpy dirt road. "The guy we killed," I shot a glance at Roch. "Was he a friend of yours?" 

 He shook his head and scoffed. "Do I look like someone who has many friends?" 

 I slouched in my seat, resting my knees against the glove compartment before lighting another cigarette. "You know what I mean." 

 "We worked together a bit," he shot me a sour look. "Why so many damn questions all of a sudden, brat? Don't he think I'm loyal?"

 "Who?" 

 "Clocksworth!" 

 I chuckled. "Take it easy; I'm just trying to pass the time." 

 But the atmosphere was tense, so I sat quietly for the rest of the ride, fiddling with my phone. Twenty-five minutes later, we turned into the backyard of the house we had moved into a few days ago. It was a rundown two-story house with a kitchen, four bedrooms, and two bathrooms, a small patch of grass, and a large driveway that could fit two or three cars. I was so damn glad to be rid of that shabby motel that I didn't care I had to share the house with Roch and Marianne. 

Three steps later, I was inside the coffee-scented kitchen, where Clock was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and Marianne was perched on the kitchen counter, but something was off, and I immediately went on guard. Both their gazes were directed at the kitchen table, and Marianne's back blocked the view, so I quickly stepped aside and followed their eyes until my heart stopped. What the hell! 

 "Clock! What the hell is going on?" I hissed, stepping forward to grip his upper arm as panic rose within me. He slowly turned to meet my gaze before shaking his head. 

"He was sitting here when we got home." 

 I felt tears burning behind my eyes as my gaze moved from Clock to the familiar man sitting casually in my kitchen chair. "What the hell are you doing here?!" I exclaimed, my voice filled with hatred, "you're dead!"

Clocksworth

I could feel Belmont tugging at my arm, and his lips are almost right next to my ear as he hisses between his teeth, 'Why is that idiot still alive?!'

'Because he knows something,' I muttered irritably, pulling a gun from my waistband and aiming it at Gaston. 'It's time for you to start talking!' 

Gaston shifted in his chair, and I noticed how he was studying Belmont intently; the way he looked at him made my blood boil. 'Say it now, or the silver bullet is going through your skull!' I snapped. 

'Belmont means quite a bit to you, doesn't he?' he began in his false, smooth voice. 'But I know someone who might mean even more?' 

'No one,' I mumbled, fixing my eyes on him. 'There's no one.' 

'No?' Gaston grinned, amused. 'Not even Lumiere?' 

My heart stopped, and I stopped breathing. It was a joke. He was trying to trick me, a ruse, a trap. It couldn't be true! 

'Who the hell do you think you are, Gaston!' Belmont roared, rushing toward the kitchen table with the muzzle of the gun pressed against his temple. 'We're not idiots!"

 I stared blankly at the scene before me. Bel was bent over Gaston, shouting in his ear, the gun pressed so hard against him that it left a red mark on his skin. But I didn't hear anything more; everything was in slow motion around me. Until I met Gaston's gaze. It was calm, completely calm. Fuck. 

'Bel,' I mumbled, but he didn't hear me. 'BEL!' He turned around sharply and looked at me. His eyes were tear-filled. 'We should probably listen to him,' I continued. 

Marianne had been silent the whole time, but now she hopped down from the counter, landing with an exaggerated flourish. She squatted in front of Gaston, holding a knife that she began twirling in her fingers with unsettling precision, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. 

"What do you gain from this?" she asked, her tone lilting like a song, as if she were genuinely curious—but her eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint.

"I'm not exactly treasured," Gaston muttered, shifting uneasily under her gaze. 

 "Not treasured? Oh, you poor, sad thing," she cooed mockingly, leaning in until the knife was just inches from his chin. "Do you want a hug? A pat on the head? Or should we skip to the part where I stab you for wasting my time?" 

 "Marianne," I warned, but she waved me off without looking, her focus still on Gaston. 

 "So what do you want from us?" I snapped, redirecting the conversation. "Should we suddenly become allies? How the fuck can we trust you?" 

 Gaston raised his gaze and looked directly into my eyes. "I just want a way out of this mess. I want to leave, like you did." He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I don't understand why you chose to come back to this horror story." 

 Marianne gasped theatrically and spun on her heel, standing to face me as if Gaston had just revealed the plot twist of the century. "A horror story? Did you hear that? I love horror stories. You've been holding out on me, Clock!" She turned back to Gaston, pointing the knife at him like an accusing finger. "If you're the big bad villain, I swear you're a disappointment. Villains should have more oomph. A little razzle-dazzle!" 

 "Marianne!" I snapped. 

 She ignored me, spinning the knife one last time before tossing it in the air and catching it by the blade. She turned to me with those pleading eyes of hers, the playful smirk gone, replaced by something raw and insistent. I knew she would hate me if we didn't do this. If there was even a sliver of truth in Gaston's words, we had to find out.

Belmont took a step forward and placed his hands on my shoulders. 'Clock, Lu is...' he stared into my eyes for a few seconds, but I felt completely empty. 'Marie, keep an eye on him,' he mumbled before pulling me out into the yard. The fresh evening air was chilly, making me feel alert and clear-headed. 'Clock... Tick-Tock,' he started tentatively before finally placing a hand on my cheek and meeting my gaze. 'Theodor,' his voice sounded so soft, like a caress, 'no matter how much we wish it were true, we already know what happened.' His fingers brushed my cheek. 'Lu is dead,' he whispered. 'We were there.' 

I nodded briefly but didn't respond. What the hell was I supposed to believe? 'But we thought I had killed Gaston too, Bel; if he's alive...' I sighed, running my fingers through my hair, 'what's to say Lu didn't survive too?' 

His arms enveloped me, and his chin rested heavily on my shoulder. 'I think it's a trap, a trap to get rid of you.' I felt his arms tighten around me. 'Think about it.' 

I took a deep breath and nodded. 'I'll be careful, okay?' 

'We. We'll be careful," he muttered. 'We'll do this together."