10.

Arcade

Standing in the small bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The rough, unkempt hair, the beard that's grown wild over the months. Today, it's time to shed that layer, to become someone I haven't been in a long time.

I pick up the razor, feeling the weight of it in my hand. Slowly, I begin to shave, watching as the stubble falls away, revealing the face underneath. Each stroke of the blade is like peeling back a layer of my past, bringing me closer to the man I used to be. When I'm done, I rinse my face and look up, seeing a cleaner, more polished version of myself staring back.

Next, I comb my hair, taming the wild strands into something more presentable. It feels strange, going through these motions, but I know it's necessary. For Belle, for the company, for the legacy that's as much hers as it is mine.

I walk back out and open the old wooden wardrobe. Inside, wrapped in plastic, is the only suit I saved from my old life. I take it out, feeling the smooth fabric between my fingers. It's been years since I wore it, but it still fits perfectly. I button up the shirt and fasten the tie, then turn around when I hear a stunned gasp.

Belle's eyes are wide in surprise, and she covers her mouth with her hand. "Oh wow," she breathes, "I almost can't believe it's you. You look like a completely different person."

I give her a small, crooked smile. "Don't be too impressed," I say, my voice gruff. "It's the same old me, just cleaned up a bit."

She steps closer, her hand resting on my chest. "You're amazing however you look," she whispers. "And you know…I kinda liked the bristly beard."

"Turned you on did it?" I rasp and she nods, flushing.

"Uh-huh."

Hiding a smirk, I decide I'll have to let it grow long when we're on vacation or something and then I lean in to kiss her forehead. "Let's get this over with."

We leave the bayou together, the familiar sights and sounds fading as we head for the city. The closer we get, the more I feel the tension building inside me. This place, this world, is one I thought I'd left behind for good. But now, with Belle by my side, it also feels different and not as bad as I remembered.

Workers stop and stare, their eyes widening in surprise when we enter the company building.

"Arcade Theron?" one of them says, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Long time no see."

"Yeah," I reply sternly, giving him a curt nod. "Long time."

Belle and I make our way through the halls, the murmurs and whispers following us. I can feel their eyes on me, judging, questioning. But I push it aside, focusing on what needs to be done.

We reach the office of my uncle, Royce. I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. Belle's hand slips into mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I look at her, seeing the belief and trust she has for me in her eyes and everything else disappears.

I push open the door, and there he is, sitting behind his massive oak desk. Uncle Royce looks up, his eyes widening in surprise before a slow smile spreads across his face. "Well, well," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Look who decided to come back."

"Uncle," I greet him, my voice steady. "We need to talk."

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at Belle before nodding. "Let's talk."

***

Uncle Royce's smile is wide and welcoming, but there's something about it that doesn't sit right with me. His eyes, though they crinkle at the corners in feigned warmth, are cold, calculating. And when they flick over to Belle, I see a glint of something that sends a shiver down my spine.

"I'm coming back to the company," I rasp, my voice hard. "Like you wanted. That what you hired Belle for, right?"

Royce's smile widens, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Ah, straight to the point, I see. Yes, that is why I hired the girl. And as we all can see, she succeeded."

His gaze slides to Belle again, lingering too long on her, and I feel a fresh surge of jealousy. What the fuck is this? I tighten my hold on Belle's hand, pulling her slightly behind me.

"Whatever she did to get you back here must have been quite convincing," Royce continues, his voice dripping with insinuation.

I bristle, my jaw tightening. "That's none of your damn business," I snap.

Royce's smile fades, his eyes turning cold, almost reptilian. "But it is my business, nephew. Everything about this situation is my business."

He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studies us. "You see, Belle was only meant to convince you. Platonically. I never said anything about her jumping into bed with you."

A low growl escapes my throat as Royce's words sink in. He's been spying on us, watching us. Watching every intimate exchange. The thought is repulsive. I step forward, shielding Belle with my body.

"Be very, very careful," I warn, my voice a dangerous whisper.

He laughs, a cold, mirthless sound that grates on my nerves. "No, Arcade. Tell that to Belle. She never should've fucked you."

In a flash, Royce pulls out a gun from his desk drawer, aiming it straight at Belle. My heart stops, fear and rage coursing through me. "You were supposed to be mine!" he yells, his face contorted with fury.

"Arcade!" Belle shrieks, tears streaming down her face.

"Belle, get down!" I shout, shoving her to the side. She stumbles, falling to the floor as I lunge at Royce.

We collide behind the desk, the impact sending us both sprawling. The gun goes off, the deafening sound echoing through the room, but the bullet hits a wall. I wrestle the gun from Royce's grasp, our bodies tangled in a desperate struggle.

He fights with surprising strength, fueled by his twisted obsession. My vision blurs, his hits making pain throb in me, but I focus on one thing: protecting Belle.

With a final, brutal effort, I slam Royce's head against the edge of the desk. His eyes widen in shock, his strength fading as I pin him down. "You will never touch her," I growl, my voice low and deadly. "She's mine."

Royce glares up at me, defiance and hatred burning in his eyes. "She loves me," he spits, his voice weak but venomous. "And I love her."

I press my forearm against his throat, cutting off his breath. "Then you're as good as dead," I say coldly. "Two men for Belle is one man too many."

And then the gun goes off.