lips on a broken whisper. Making my way towards her, I don’t give a fuck what happens to me as long I get her to safety. I won’t go down without a fight. I barely get her untied before I hear Romeo yell out my name. When I turn, I get a knife to the shoulder. Harlyn yelps, and I launch myself at him.
Red is all I see when I straddle this fucker. I deliver blow after blow to him. Romeo pulls me off of him, and sends me back, but I can’t stay away. Before I turn around, I hear her whimper again. When I look behind me, that fucker’s moved, and he has her in his grip with a knife at her throat. I don’t even think twice, I run at them both, and he pushes her away. Taking him down, I fight with him over the knife and I end up pushing it through his chest. But I don’t stop there. I pull it out and gut the mother fucker like a fish.
Blood curling screams fill the warehouse. I don’t even notice the blood that is now covering almost every inch of my body. Her screams sound like they’re far away and when I turn around, I see a look on her face that I’ll never forget.
Disgust. Hatred. Fear. Love. Hurt.
Her good eye scans the scene in front of her, but she doesn’t move. Instead Romeo grabs her, and pulls her towards the door. I’m not done with this fucker and I know if she sees any more, she’ll hate me even more than she thinks she does right now.
I take my time with him. Now that I don’t have an audience, I don’t care how fuckin’ loud he screams as I dig his own knife into his skin.
Reaching forward, I run my finger over one of the scars that she was left with after that night. At first she flinches, but then she sinks back into the mattress. “How long do I have to stay here?” The question is nothing more than a question, but it feels like a knife is being shoved into my chest. Laying on the bed next to her, I look up at the ceiling.
“Once we deal with the Fighting Rebels, you can go.” The words come out harsher than I intended, but I can’t bring myself to really give a fuck. Instead of sitting in the silence with her, I get out of bed, and make my way to my dresser. Pulling out a pair of jeans, I pull them on and grab my boots. When I look over my shoulder, I see her watching me intently. When her eyes meet my tattoo, I see them widen.
Not long after she left, I got a tattoo that reminded me of her. This way, no matter how far apart we were, she would always be with me. Grabbing a tee shirt, I pull it over my head and pull on my cut. Before I make it out the door, she stops me.
“Stavros.” Her voice glues me to the spot I’m standing. Looking over my shoulder at her, I see the questioning look.
“It only means as much as the person it was designed after.” I don’t say anything else; I just walk out of the room, and let her think about it.
I had this designed for her, and only her. It’s one of the only tattoos on my body that has a true meaning. It holds a promise and curse all at the same time. I’m bound to her in ink, just like she’s bound to me.
Walking into the bar area, I see a bunch of people gathering around. Families are starting to arrive, and the prospects are starting to unload boxes of shit that they got at the store. Hopefully it’s enough to hold everyone over for a few days at least. I know I’m going to be sending these fuckers out a dozen or so more times before we even get anything accomplished with the threats that are looming over our heads..
I see Trixie come strutting in with a little dark haired boy on her hip, and I know shit’s going to get fuckin’ shitty in here. Trixie has been a club whore for a little over six years, and she’s slept with every one of the men here. That little boy belongs to one of my men, and when his ol’ lady gets here, she’s going to know that he’s been stepping out on her.
Shit, a bunch of my men have ol’ ladies at home, and a whore they fuck here on a daily basis. It
Red is all I see when I straddle this fucker. I deliver blow after blow to him. Romeo pulls me off of him, and sends me back, but I can’t stay away. Before I turn around, I hear her whimper again. When I look behind me, that fucker’s moved, and he has her in his grip with a knife at her throat. I don’t even think twice, I run at them both, and he pushes her away. Taking him down, I fight with him over the knife and I end up pushing it through his chest. But I don’t stop there. I pull it out and gut the mother fucker like a fish.
Blood curling screams fill the warehouse. I don’t even notice the blood that is now covering almost every inch of my body. Her screams sound like they’re far away and when I turn around, I see a look on her face that I’ll never forget.
Disgust. Hatred. Fear. Love. Hurt.
Her good eye scans the scene in front of her, but she doesn’t move. Instead Romeo grabs her, and pulls her towards the door. I’m not done with this fucker and I know if she sees any more, she’ll hate me even more than she thinks she does right now.
I take my time with him. Now that I don’t have an audience, I don’t care how fuckin’ loud he screams as I dig his own knife into his skin.
Reaching forward, I run my finger over one of the scars that she was left with after that night. At first she flinches, but then she sinks back into the mattress. “How long do I have to stay here?” The question is nothing more than a question, but it feels like a knife is being shoved into my chest. Laying on the bed next to her, I look up at the ceiling.
“Once we deal with the Fighting Rebels, you can go.” The words come out harsher than I intended, but I can’t bring myself to really give a fuck. Instead of sitting in the silence with her, I get out of bed, and make my way to my dresser. Pulling out a pair of jeans, I pull them on and grab my boots. When I look over my shoulder, I see her watching me intently. When her eyes meet my tattoo, I see them widen.
Not long after she left, I got a tattoo that reminded me of her. This way, no matter how far apart we were, she would always be with me. Grabbing a tee shirt, I pull it over my head and pull on my cut. Before I make it out the door, she stops me.
“Stavros.” Her voice glues me to the spot I’m standing. Looking over my shoulder at her, I see the questioning look.
“It only means as much as the person it was designed after.” I don’t say anything else; I just walk out of the room, and let her think about it.
I had this designed for her, and only her. It’s one of the only tattoos on my body that has a true meaning. It holds a promise and curse all at the same time. I’m bound to her in ink, just like she’s bound to me.
Walking into the bar area, I see a bunch of people gathering around. Families are starting to arrive, and the prospects are starting to unload boxes of shit that they got at the store. Hopefully it’s enough to hold everyone over for a few days at least. I know I’m going to be sending these fuckers out a dozen or so more times before we even get anything accomplished with the threats that are looming over our heads..
I see Trixie come strutting in with a little dark haired boy on her hip, and I know shit’s going to get fuckin’ shitty in here. Trixie has been a club whore for a little over six years, and she’s slept with every one of the men here. That little boy belongs to one of my men, and when his ol’ lady gets here, she’s going to know that he’s been stepping out on her.
Shit, a bunch of my men have ol’ ladies at home, and a whore they fuck here on a daily basis. It
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