Chapter 40: Consequences
Unravel Him Playlist on Spotify.
Song; (Kings and Creatures- Torn Apart) & (Kings and Creatures- The Hunt) & (Kings and Creatures- The Outsider)
No, no, no, no-
I’m screaming inside, the confines of my mind cracking into a thousand shattered pieces.
He’s here, fuck he’s here.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
And for some reason, at this moment, at this second, I remember Jackson’s words as though he’s spoken them right in front of me.
“This isn’t the way. I can still help you. We, can help you.”
It was him.
Every molecule in my body turned pristine solid. I was afraid that one wrong move, could dismantle this fragile moment, this nerve breaking truth.
What truth, I ask.
The truth that he’s been looking for me.
He never, stopped, looking for me.
Something halted in my throat. Bile rose up to the surface and I resisted the urge to gag.
For how long?
How long has he been looking?
Since I left?
My mind re winded itself, coming viciously in flashes.
What did I leave behind? What did I left for the others to see?
For him... to see?
The flashes filtered black and red.
But I see them as though they were simply a film, playing right before me.
Glass. Blood. Screams. Pleads.
“N-NO! WAIT! WAIT, PLEASE!”
Ethan is sick.
It rings in my mind.
It echoes along my ears.
Ethan is sick.
I let go of her and she falls, laying limp before the ground, head lolled to the side.
What was she talking about?
How can Ethan be sick?
How did she know that?
Yet as I looked at the piece of paper, the piece of paper with Ethan’s name, with Graymoore’s symbol, crumpled and mashed hidden behind fluffs of pillow in the corner... I realized she may be telling the truth.
And that scares me.
Furious, I grasp hold of her collar and pulled her up not caring that blood leaked everywhere.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded, practically growling.
The glistening handle from the dagger protrudes out of her eye as she weakly coughs, blood dripping down her face.
She gasps sharply, wincing. “N-NorthVille... Hospital. Ethan.”
Veronica sucks in another breath. “Sick! H-He’s sick!”
That can’t be right.
That can’t be.
Yet I feel the growing fear of the unknown and knew there was no time to waste.
Dropping her instantly, I collected my purse and jacket from my bag and moved out the door all the while holding my breath.
Ethan. Ethan is sick. He is sick.
A shuddering raspy inhale from behind, makes me pause before the doorway, one hand held back against the door frame.
I knew Veronica laid there.
I knew she was scarcely breathing.
I knew she may be hours away from bleeding out.
At the back of my mind, through the hazy state of blood lust, I realized I did that.
I hurt her.
I hurt her just as she hurt me.
Twisting the door knob, I walked out knowing fully well, I had just abandoned Veronica to die.
It was the first time I thought of her since that night.
It was the first time I realized what I had done.
I left her there with a knife sticking out of her eye.
I left her there for the others to see.
I left her there to die.
But she hadn’t died did she?
Jonas told me she was still breathing, still fighting for her life in the ICU.
She had survived and defied the odds.
I could have let it go of course.
I could have left her alone, after all didn’t I get my revenge?
But it wasn’t enough.
A tiny part of me knew the longer I stayed with Jonas, the longer I committed down this path, the more likely I would have came back to finish the job.
Monster. The voice snarls.
I shook my head, feeling my vision go awry.
A pounding ache grounded deep into the side of my skull, nearly knocking the breath out of me.
It echoed, pressing further into my brain, coiling deeper into the darkest parts of myself.
My skin turned cold, my breath went heavy.
Did he figure it out?
Did he figure out who scarred her face?
Did he find Travis?
Did he follow the trail of bodies?
Did he find Jackson?
The voice is there, hissing, snarling, shackles raised.
Monster. It repeats.
Monster. Monster. Monster.
I am a monster.
Because deep down inside, I know he wouldn’t have found me either wise if he didn’t realize that.
Then there’s a rip, a tear. My heart collapse on itself, a thousand locked emotions scrambled to break free.
I feel them.
Disorientation, vulnerability, indecision but most of all, fear.
Fear of rejection.
And I hated it.
Why did I have to be scared of what he’d think?
Why did I have to be scared of how he’ll act?
He had no part of my life and what I chose to do.
So why was I feeling this way?
And why won’t it stop?
I just want it to stop.
My eyes began to burn. My lips pressed tight against each other.
I stared at him, unsure of my expression, unsure of my thoughts and unsure of my words.
What do I have to say?
What do I have to say to him to make it go away?
Two words blearily form within my subconsciousness, rising from underwater where they begun to reshape themselves-
Jonas’s rest his hand on my right wrist.
He gently tugs, pulling my body upright against him so his green eyes bore deep into my own.
The world slows down. I feel my ears pop into silence as everything goes mute.
“Hey,” His lips brush the top of my head and his arms encircle my figure.
I listen, enthralled, afraid if I didn’t I’d never hear again.
"Shhh... It’s okay.”
Jonas skims his finger across my cheek.
The touch feels airy, light, gentle, soothing.
“Stay with me,”
I blink, unable to control my surroundings and how fast they hazed over.
Stay with him.
The effect rolled over my body, spreading a wash of calm that immediately eased the pounding of my heart.
Suddenly, it was easy to breath, easy to concentrate.
“Stay with me,” He repeated, voice whimsical and almost melodic.
I laid my head against his shoulder and remained there.
Stay with him.
“You’re going to have to do something,” He shifts a lock of hair away from my left ear making sure to keep his tone hushed.
I pushed myself back and viewed him.
“I need you to get rid of him.”
Get... rid of him?
“He’s going to bring you down, Vanessa.” He turns me around, just enough to view the figure standing by the doorway, watching us.
I hear Jonas’s voice, by my ear, whispering, telling, commanding.
The wickedness spun by his tongue is lost on me. I only need to obey.
“We can’t let that happen, remember, this is what you want.”
This is what I want.
I narrowed my gaze at the intruder, feeling liquid fire crawl up my spine and neck, violently twisting within my lungs.
Gripping the edge of the couch, I straightened myself and stood up slowly as the edges of my world teeter.
This is what I want.
Warmth return to my fingers, everything becomes vividly clear.
This is what I want.
He’s standing there.
Like a ghost from my past.
Waiting for what?
He’s the first to speak, I’m surprised by this.
But as he scans my attire, head to toe, I forget about my shock and involuntarily shivered as a chill roll down my neck.
He snaps his gaze back to me, catching the lapse.
And for some reason.
I feel my blood boil.
How dare he.
“You’re not welcome here,”
My voice is harsh. It’s not my own. It sounds deeper, viler, much more disturbing.
The figure raises an delicate eyebrow, his blue green eyes shinning behind the black mask that shadowed his own face.
“Didn’t you miss me?” He says snidely.
“I only miss people I care about,” I said. “You’re not on that list, Thomas.”
A thunderbolt of silence is shared between us. It hung heavy in the air, suffocating the life out of the once warm atmosphere.
I feel it.
The energy cackling.
The fury that could very well explode into blazing fires.
I demanded my respect.
This is my throne.
And I will rule.
Thomas tilts his head and gives me a penetrating stare.
A stare that looked right into my soul.
“What about Hailey? Have you forgotten about her too?”
Did she find Veronica in the Apartment?
Did she worry, scared out of her mind by what had happened?
Did she look for me?
Dozens of memories swarmed forward and I held it back, slamming the yawning door before the floodgates could descend.
He was trying to get a reaction.
Provoke me into remembering.
The only problem was he was heading in the right direction.
It angered me.
How easy he knew where to poke.
How familiar he was to my weaknesses.
He saw right through me.
And I saw right through him.
“Hard to say,” Clicking my tongue, I rolled my shoulders back. “It’s easy to find another replacement. You did it with Rose,”
I could’ve sworn something like thunder boomed outside.
Either way, the room had coiled.
Two predators was just woken from their slumber.
And they were, pissed.
“You’re dancing on the ledge, Ginger.” He hisses, voice as soft as velvet.
“Choose you’re next words, carefully.”
“Or what?” Smiling cynically, I raised both hands and let them fall.
“Will you make me beg?”
“When I go over there, you’d wish you were begging.” He threatened, blue eyes blazing.
I scoff, my whole focus going to prove a point and right now that point was him.
“Do it.” Daring a step forward, I only stopped when we were a meter apart.
“Make. Me. Beg.”
I was asking for it at this point.
It didn’t matter what Thomas felt for me or what I felt for him, this was the Ring.
And in the Ring, there are consequences to you’re actions and words.
Consequences, we as members pride ourselves with.
This was reckless, this was rash and careless.
This was something Red Devil never would have done.
I was digging a deeper hole with each second that passed. The only problem was I didn’t... care.
I didn’t care anymore.
Thomas frowns, quietly silenced.
One emotion spoke out to me.
Was I serious or was I simply playing him?
It was obvious how hesitant he was.
But they way I see it, he has two options.
Both ended in different paths.
He could do as I told, hell, things would just end faster, or, he doesn’t, he waits, bides his time, thinks of something else.
But how long did he had?
I knew there was a time frame, he couldn’t have gotten in here if there wasn’t.
And so, I watched him.
His insurance has always been to ensure whatever he does or whatever that may happen be planned and articulated into several scenarios that could be controlled.
It’s a habit.
A force of life.
It’s something I’ve seen him do, over and over again.
It’s what made him so deadly.
It’s also what made him rule New York.
The heir of Graymoore lapse in silence for several moments.
In the silence, I’m distinctively reminded of how familiar it felt.
How that scrutinizing stare made me well aware of every thought and meaning.
It was the same look he gave me when he burst through the doors of Esora’s Arts.
He sees something. Something he does not like.
And unlike that basement, where he found Travis and I, this was not a controlled environment.
He could not instigate what may happen next.
He couldn’t risk it.
And if he really has been looking for me all these weeks.
I know he won’t risk it now.
It’s what I’m counting on.
I’ve got nothing to lose.
I’ve got nothing to gain.
This is what I want.
Thomas finally inhales sharply, frustration and doubt peeking through his lashes.
“What the fuck did they do to you?” He demanded.
I don’t answer. I can’t.
Because the truth is, I don’t know.
I don’t know anymore.
“Nothing she didn’t want.” Jonas answers.
He falls to my side and reaches for my hand.
Our fingers are laced together, Jonas’s insurance that I still stood with him and not against.
“She is a beauty... isn’t she? If I were you I would have never let her go.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Thomas tilts his head, just an inch.
“Hmm,” Jonas nods, sighing leisurely. “I suggest... you walk away before things... get complicated.”
The room darkens.
A tornado of energy pooled onto the air, signifying a death sentence.
The level of disrespect is heady.
And Thomas wants nothing more but to execute it.
“Is that a threat?” He mutters, oddly quiet.
“What if it is?” Jonas is now in front of me, our fingers do not part.
Thomas stares, jaw clenched.
He pushes his hands in his pockets and lounges back on his heels.
A sinister smile envelope his lips.
“You don’t want to be throwing threats,” He informs lightly.
“Not at me.”
The tone slither up my spine and caressed every inch of my bones.
It was too silent. Too out of character.
It held so much meaning.
Very slowly, Thomas takes a booted step forward.
“I know who you are, Jonas Davis Brown.”
He elongates, standing tall and imposing against Jonas’s personal space.
Something about his expression startled me.
It had morphed into something else.
Something... not, Thomas.
The blue in his eyes turned ice and the green vanished within the darkness.
“How did you live with yourself knowing you were a product of rape?”
Silence swept the room.
“Amanda Davis couldn’t take it so she shot herself in the head, right, in front, of you...”
Jonas released our hands, taking a step back.
I stared at the male, surprise to find his features flickering abnormally between surprise and disturbance.
That name rang a bell.
It was Jonas’s mother.
She died of a heart attack many years back when Jonas was still young. They had found her in the upstairs landing of his parent’s bedroom.
Everyone said that was the turning point for Jonas.
He got involved with the Ring pretty soon after and his father left him to his own devices.
But what was this?
What was Thomas saying?
“I’m surprised you didn’t kill your father after finding out.”
The heir of Graymoore cranes his neck to the side and view Jonas mockingly.
“After all, he was the one that raped your mother then proceeded to force the poor woman to marry him.”
He was smiling yet it held no joy, no empathy or meaning.
It was empty, sinister, he didn’t care what he was doing.
He didn’t care at all.
“I wondered... did you cry for Mommy?”
I stared, silenced to the point of no return.
There was so much malice, so much coldness...
It gave a clue as to who was the powerful one here.
It was not Jonas.
How could it have been him?
What could Jonas have against Thomas?
The man that spent the last few weeks in worry.
The man that spent the last few weeks in torment.
The man willing to kill.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jonas rasp out, trying in vain to remain blank.
Without a doubt, I knew, somehow, that Thomas just reveled a dark secret the Browns kept silenced for years.
“Don’t worry,” The heir of Graymoore stated, ominously promising to deliver his declaration soon.
“I’m not here for you, yet.”
That heated gaze is suddenly on me, his interest drawn somewhere else leaving Jonas, standing there, frozen.
“You’re coming home, Ginger.”
I blink, confused.
That can’t be right.
“Yes,” He agrees, nodding tightly at me. “Home.”
“If you can’t even follow a simple instruction, how the hell am I supposed to believe whatever you say anymore?”
“Vanessa, you’re not thinking straight. Let’s just go home alright?”
“I’m doing this for you! I’m doing this for you so I can support you! So I can be the mother you need!”
Memories flooded my vision, one by one, each as excruciating as the rest.
The profound ringing muted the rest of the world and I clasp my head in my hands.
No, I don’t want to remember.
I don’t want to fucking remember.
Taking a deep breath, I shook my head and backed up, not trusting my body nor my emotions.
Get away from him. Get away from him.
His furrowed his brows at my receding steps. “Ginger-”
“You need to leave.” I speak, struggling in vain to keep a straight face. “I don’t want you here-”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I parted my lips, desperate.
He was still staring at me.
Still staring at me with that determination, that need, that will.
If eyes could speak, I know what he’d say.
Let me help you.
I only have to say two words.
Two words to respond and this nightmare will be over.
Yet I look away, consumed by my own fear to go any further.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this with him. I can’t.
“Take her then,”
Jonas words is a needle prick to the bubble between us.
He took of his leather jacket and proceeded to side step Thomas to pour a glass of bourbon in the corner.
Gone was the lapse in his control, back was the facade of calmness.
It was like nothing had happened.
“Oh, you can take her, unless... she doesn’t want too, of course.” He explains, noticing how Thomas was staring. “Then I’d have to step in.”
He gulps down the glass.
I watch his Adam apple bob up and down one finger swiping the corner of his lip as both males continued to silently glower.
He stops, breaking eye contact and chuckling lightly at the wall before him.
“That was a neat trick,” Jonas gestures, impressed.
“I don’t know how you found out... but I give props to you for digging up the Browns age long secret. Not many people can do that.”
It was clear he was talking about what Thomas relayed a few minutes ago.
He raises the glass.
A gesture of respect.
“I’m not like many people.”
Jonas ignores the warning tone from Thomas and kicks back the drink before setting the glass down.
If I hadn’t known Jonas, I wouldn’t have been able to notice the inner turmoil that laid waste to his soul behind that gaze.
He was affected... very, affected.
Affected enough that his anger was now showing. The temperamental side of him that wanted revenge.
Revenge... on who?
“Since you’re so hell bent on coming after me... I’m sorry to say, that you have the wrong person.”
My heart jolted.
I whip my head at him, panicked.
“I’m not the one you should be worried about,”
“Jonas,” I cut in, breathing heavily. “Don’t.”
A sinking, damning feeling began to fill my chest.
What was he doing?
Why was he doing this?
He smiles and pretends he hadn’t heard what I said.
“Tell me, Mr...?”
Thomas doesn’t bother to answer. He’s too focused on understanding the riddle that is being currently shared.
A riddle I wanted nothing more but to disappear.
“Have you checked the news lately?” Jonas shrugs and slips a hand in his pocket, one leg pulled up over the other.
“The City went through a little, cleansing since she came back.”
Those blue green eyes I hoped would never find me was suddenly too clear, too sharp, I cut myself off, unwilling to confirm my horrors out loud.
“You should have seen, what she did to a Danivel. Tore his poor heart right out his chest.”
“Stop it.” I commanded, feeling like the air was much too thin.
“You had his heart in you’re hand, Vanessa.” He sings, not bothering to conceal his amusement.
“You loved it.”
“I said stop, for god’s sake!”
He’d do anything in his power to ensure I stayed with him, even if it means hurting me too.
It was sickening. It made me sick.
I didn’t want Thomas knowing any of that.
I didn’t want him to view me differently then when I first left.
Wouldn’t that have been easier?
Wouldn’t that have been for the best?
Why did he have to look for me?
Why did he have to find me?
He could have avoided seeing the monster.
He could have avoided seeing all the horrible things I’ve done.
Jackson saw what I did and he turned his back.
I couldn’t take it so what did I do?
I shot him.
I couldn’t control it and someone ended up dead.
I was dangerous. I was a ticking time bomb.
What will I do when Thomas turns his back on me as well?
Will I kill him too?
Will I even have any control left?
Hesitantly, I scan over the heir of Graymoore, holding my breath in trepidation of seeing something I didn’t want.
But then it wasn’t.
I couldn’t... see it...
I couldn’t see the repulsion. I couldn’t see the loathing or distaste.
I couldn’t see the rejection.
I only saw him.
And in that moment, there was a pinch in my chest.
I felt the emotion coil over my lungs, settling deep into my heart, burying itself further and out of reach.
It’s warm, it’s safety, it’s terrifying.
“Ginger,” He calls and this time there was no anger, no demand, no force.
It was just acceptance.
I see it again.
The question he refuses to say out loud, the question he expects me to answer all on my own.
Let me help you.
I only have to ask.
Staring deep into his eyes, I searched for lies.
He must be lying.
He must be.
How could he accept me this easily?
How could he not look at me differently?
“No,” I shake my head, bewildered by the turn of events. “No, you’re not supposed to do this.”
He held his hand out, my hesitance undeterred to his goal. “Come home with me,”
I don’t understand.
Jonas said he’ll reject me.
Jonas said I’ll be cast aside, forgotten, left abandoned.
But what was this?
Why was he doing this?
Why did he want to help me?
“Vanessa,” Jonas’s command is what makes me jerk away, surprise by the abruptness of it.
I stumbled back and wiped my eyes, needing to grab a hold of myself before everything breaks loose.
What the hell was that?
Jonas sighs in annoyance from across the room at the heir of Graymoore who is staring at his once outstretched hand, expression unreadable.
“Play time’s over, it’s time for you to leave.”
“Are you afraid of who she’ll choose?” Thomas questions, strangely calm as a hint of a smile played on his lips.
I recognize the deadly wit within him that indicated he knew exactly what he was doing.
Which was baiting Jonas.
Unbeknownst to the male, he was about to play right into the heir of Graymoore’s hands.
“I’m giving you one last chance before I put a bullet in you’re fucking skull.”
Jonas takes the firearm from his side and cocks the slider, safety off.
Both males held their stances, neither of them moving an inch as the threat of another shooting becomes fundamentally clear.
“I’m not going to ask you twice.”
Thomas dropped the smile and rolled his shoulders back, eliciting something powerful and dangerous all at the same time.
“I told you,” He warns. “You don’t want to be throwing threats, not at me.”
Jonas was still holding it.
At any given moment, it could fire and possibly kill.
Who would be the casualty?
Jonas.... or Thomas?
Conflicted emotions arose within me as my mind fought for what’s right and not.
If I let Jonas shoot Thomas, that’d be it. The end. I won’t have to worry about people coming after me. I’d be free to do whatever the hell I want without thinking of the consequences.
If I don’t... I’d be risking myself. I’d be risking feeling again, I’d be risking getting hurt. I’d be risking betrayal.
War could start.
War between the groups.
A war I have no idea whose side I’d be on.
“Are you going to just stand there?” Jonas demanded, directing his anger at me. “He’s a threat, Vanessa. You know what we need to do to threats.”
I stared, like a deer in headlights, his voice taunting me for what must be done.
This is what I want.
He said that, didn’t he?
No-wait, I said that, didn’t I?
Shaking my head, I tried to quell the voices in my head but to no avail, they proceeded to taunt me.
Get rid of him.
Those are my words, weren’t they?
Get rid of him.
That one word rang out, breaking my trance.
Get rid of him.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself.
My mind, my heart, my body, my soul ached in all the wrong places.
I was done.
I was just, done.
“Go,” I repeated, strangely harsh with my deliverance. “Get out of here.”
For some reason, instead of feeling lightened, I’m consumed in guilt.
Guilt for being unable to choose. Guilt for only wanting to choose myself.
Something flashed in Thomas’s eyes.
Something too quick for me to catch.
A decision, I realized too late.
“Fuck this,” He spits.
Thomas spins around, body sprung, and in one move, punched Jonas in the face, making him gasp as a deafening crack is heard.
The heir of Graymoore backhands the male against the wall and throws his whole weight forward, one elbow pinned to Jonas’s neck.
“You decided to play with what’s mine... without understanding the consequences...”
He presses his elbow, deeper into Jonas’s windpipe and bared his teeth, venomously seething. “How ballsy can one be?”
The iris in his eyes went dark.
No traces of blue or green.
It was just darkness.
In that darkness, something lurked.
Something with a name.
“Now, because of you, I have to fix a mess that should never have happened.”
Jonas chokes, nails digging hard on the hand that held him down as he tries to fire the gun in his otherwise trapped position.
Thomas raises his free hand and squared Jonas in the neck.
This makes the male gasp for air, allowing just enough leeway for the heir of Graymoore to swipe the gun all in a matter of seconds.
Jonas barely had a chance to breath before the barrel is on his forehead.
The aura Thomas emits is potent and threatening to com bust and lay waste to the things around us.
Jonas had gone from cocky to at the mercy of another man within a few minutes.
And as those green eyes flicker over to me, desperate, I know, he’s truly afraid.
The gun went off, hitting the wall beside Jonas’s head.
It’s so loud in the enclosed space that I feel it ring around us just as my heart stalled.
“Speak one more word to her,” Thomas moves closer, his grip tightening and his eyes flaring.
“And I’ll rip you’re tongue out.”
“STOP!” I had reached a breaking point.
Anger and rage fused itself out of me, smoking a bottle of capped feelings that bubbled dangerously close to overflowing.
I ran my hands down my hair and grasp at the ends, not caring if I looked demented.
Why couldn’t Thomas just leave?
Why couldn’t he just walked away?
I was a monster, couldn’t he see that?
Everything was going so terribly wrong.
Everything was going so horribly wrong.
So make it stop.
There it was again.
That voice. The one that called me a monster.
And instead of fleeing from it, I embraced it, relishing the freedom it gave me.
Get rid of him.
“Nobody... can ever leave me alone... can they?”
Releasing my hair, I smiled at no one in particular, suddenly consumed with the maddening need of fury.
Get rid of him.
I grasp onto the blackening part of my soul and smothered it until all light was gone.
“No, they just had, to come back in my life. Veronica, You, Ethan... oh god, Ethan.”
That old man just had to die. He just had to die.
Did I ever catch a break? Will I ever, catch a break?
No longer smiling, I gave Thomas a cold look, indicating he had a part in my pain.
Get rid of him.
Something about my tone has changed.
Something both males pointedly noticed.
They turn their gazes over to me, wary and curious.
I remained sordid. “Leave... or I’ll make you, leave.”
Jonas begins to laugh, it’s victorious and only pisses Thomas off even more.
“Oh, she is, beautiful indeed-”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Thomas demanded, cutting him off.
The corner of Jonas’s lips tilted up. “Like I said, I’m not the one you should be worried about... King.”
A tremble of silence eloped the two, I stared, transfixed at how he managed to figure it out.
Of course he would, how could he not?
Jonas knew I was involved with someone in New York.
He knew the basics.
That was more then enough to understand the story.
“You know me,” It was not a question.
“Yes,” Jonas nods, smiling cynically. “I know you very well.”
Despite being trapped against the wall, there was no way on earth, Jonas would have kept his mouth shut.
Not when he had the chance to hurt people.
“You’re the one that made Vanessa over there hesitate. What we’re doing here? Hesitance can kill you.”
Jonas leans forward taunting the other male for a reaction. “It was difficult... but I had to snip the wings you gave her.”
Something was taking a hold of me. It had no intention of letting go.
It was the same feeling that captured me when I hurt Veronica.
It was the same feeling that held me when I killed Travis.
It was the same emotion that made me tear Daniel’s heart out of his chest.
“Careful...” Jonas grins, making Thomas scowl. “Don’t piss off... Red Devil,”
Reaching for my right boot, I retrieved a hunting knife and cushioned the handle to my fingers.
It came from Thomas.
A clear, stern, warning.
I watch his blue green eyes fill with frustration and anger.
“Don’t, make me do this,”
“You need to go.” Heat pressed harder down my back, caging my windpipe against the blood thirsty thoughts that consumed me.
“I said GO!” I roared, lunging forward.
Thomas stood very still.
He looked down to the hunting knife, situated directly at his windpipe, then back at me.
My eyes blazed.
The silence stretched to a minute, then two, then three, on the fourth he put the gun away, on the fifth he releases Jonas.
On the sixth he reaches for his leather jacket and pulled it off.
The buckles along his waist and torso gleamed under the fairy light as he shifted, providing a full view of his shoulders and neck.
A bead of blood dripped down his collarbone from the cut at the action.
I remained where I was.
No matter our history, no matter our thoughts and feelings to each other, there are always, consequences.
I knew what I was getting myself into.
I knew how reckless I had become.
I didn’t care.
He finally stops moving and I look up, realizing his height had towered over me.
I clenched my fist, the blade straightened. “What?”
“I said,” His blue green eyes glowed against the mask. Every movement held power, every action held symphony.
Being this close with him, our proximity only inches away, it melted my insides.
Everything comes to a screeching halt.
He’s proposing a fight.
“I challenge you, Red Devil, Queen of Downtown’s Underground, New York City and NorthVille,”
He holds out the gun and begins to dismantle it, one by one, the bullets and metal pins, dropping all across the floor.
“Will you answer or not?”
It was a call to battle.
A call to war.
Maybe this way, things will end easier, won’t it?
“I accept.” I stated, blankly.
He unhooks another pin. “I only have one condition,”
“On one condition.”
I frowned, not knowing or understanding why it strike me odd.
That was my voice, I knew it was.
My voice from the past.
What did it have to do with everything that’s going on now?
King opens the slider, pushing both gun and metal before throwing the decapitated side at me.
It scraps the floor, coming to a stop by my feet.
“Loser takes off the mask.”
OHHOO, This was a long ass chapter and it took me a while to get back up and running again given it’s been a while since I’ve written our favorite male lead.
Thank you for staying patient with me, it means a lot 💖