Eagle King paused mid-shake. “Flying Fish has been all over the place lately. She’s obsessed with some boy band star named Claude. As a killer, she’s acting like a fangirl, chasing a star. Boss, you might want to talk to her. At this rate, she could lose her spot as the number three assassin.”
Yvette laughed, noting the jealousy in Eagle King’s eyes. A killer in love? Interesting. She reached for her drink, finding her glass empty. Eagle King had seen it, but hadn't refilled it. Yvette was exceptional, but her drinking… awful.
When Yvette drank too much, she'd stare silently at whoever was nearby. Leaving required knocking her out. But after a few drinks, she became incredibly strong. The first time they drank together, she’d sent Eagle King flying with one punch, an injury that took days to recover from. Worse, she'd forgotten the whole thing the next day.
That memory made Eagle King vow never to let Yvette drink more than two. Unless someone wanted to be knocked around.
“Another drink!” Yvette said.
Eagle King swiftly packed away the bartending tools. Yvette raised an eyebrow. “Is he really not going to let me drink?”
“It’s all gone,” Eagle King explained.
Yvette held up two fingers, signaling him closer. He reluctantly lowered his head. “Do you think I’m blind?” she asked.
He shook his head. “You’re not blind. You just can’t control yourself.”
Their eyes locked. After ten seconds, Eagle King conceded. He’d let her have one; he could always be the punching bag later. He mixed three more drinks, stopping only when Yvette nodded.
They chatted casually as the bar filled. After half an hour, a group of men, previously intimidated by Eagle King, started acting up again. They were regulars, with money and a belief in boldness. A stunning woman like Yvette was tempting, even if she was with the bartender. They sent their best-looking friend to talk to her.
He ordered a whiskey, then casually turned to Yvette. “Hey, is this your first time here?”
Eagle King was ready to intervene, but Yvette signaled him to stay back. He felt a little sorry for the guy. ‘Boss is drunk? Great! Someone to take the heat!’
Seeing Eagle King’s calm demeanor, the guy leaned in. “Wanna grab some fun, Miss?”
Yvette set down her drink, her cheeks flushed. “Fun? Sure. Let’s go.” She tossed a box of candy to Eagle King, then walked off with the guy.
Eagle King held the candy, wiping it on his sleeve. ‘Boss is something else!’
A bartender approached. “Dude, you’re just sitting there while your girl walks off? Those guys do this all the time. You should go check on her.”
Eagle King shrugged. “Nah, it’s cool. She can handle herself. Who knows who’s really in trouble?” He sneered silently. ‘These clowns think they can mess with her? What a joke!’
The bartender shook his head. ‘Is he insane? His girl is taken away, and he’s grinning? If he’s not worried, why should I be?’
At the back of the bar, two men sat in a booth. One, Jeremiah Chavez, had striking features and a cold demeanor that kept women at bay. Andrew Mitchell, his companion, was more outgoing.
“Come on, Jeremiah, lighten up! This is a bar, not a funeral. You’ve already scared off three groups of girls,” Andrew said.
Jeremiah stubbed out his cigarette. “Didn’t you just swap numbers with some of them?”
Andrew chuckled awkwardly. “Stop laughing. You look silly,” Jeremiah said.
Andrew sighed inwardly. He was closest to Jeremiah, envied by others for his connection to the Chavez family. But only Andrew knew how hard Jeremiah’s words could hit.
Jeremiah rarely went to bars, only for missions or time with Andrew. Andrew loved partying; Jeremiah focused on missions. Andrew admired Jeremiah. ‘Is it even possible to look that good while drinking?’
In Betrico's upper circles, Jeremiah was a rising star. While their friends enjoyed lavish lifestyles, Jeremiah served quietly in the military, his true identity hidden. After five years, he earned prestigious awards, culminating in a top honor that made him a major general—the youngest in the country, and the sole heir to the powerful Chavez family.
Andrew thought, ‘How could our worlds be so different? Jeremiah deserves his success, but I prefer being carefree.’
“Report to Argrol University tomorrow and don’t be late,” Jeremiah said.