Overexposed

Pushing the Limit

Chapter 9: Pushing the Limit

“Name your price,” Tommo’s voice drops an octave.

Montreal smiles viciously and turns slightly so that his gaze bores right into mine, “Her.”

My entire body is abruptly made of ice and I briefly wonder if this is what it’s like to be Tommo. However, the thought is whisked away from me as I realize exactly what he means. The man that I’ve left the scars on, the thing that made me known throughout what appears to be both gangs, wants full control over my person. He’s asking for a trade. Me for Haz and Prints. I don’t even want to IMAGINE the things he’ll do.

Romeo stuck a hot iron in my face and he was only looking to get information.

What will Montreal do for REVENGE?

“Eat my shit, beaner,” the bronze haired man hisses, surprising me. Why isn’t he just handing me over? Again, when did I become worth ANYTHING to him? Though it’s not like I’M complaining right now.

“What did’ju just fucking say to me, tonto?” Montreal pulls out a gun, aiming it sloppily but quickly at the back of Haz’s head.

“You really think I’ll fall for that one?” Tommo draws his upper lip back aggressively.

Abruptly, Montreal lifts his arm, raising the firearm above his head, and fires two shots. I wince both times, the popping sound making my ears ring.

“You gonna test me, you fucking puto?” Montreal shouts, resting the end of the barrel back against Haz’s head, fisting a portion of his hair to keep my friend from moving.

“No!” I scream involuntarily, stepping forward.

POGs manages to wrap his arms around my middle, restraining me and looking to his leader for instruction. Tommo rapidly looks between the rival gang, Haz, the van, and me. At first, his words are so quiet that I almost think I’m hearing things. His lips move so subtly that it looks like he’s not speaking at all.

“Ozzie, you’re going to go with them.”

My eyes widen, “But-”

“Don’t argue. Prints needs medical attention and we’re stuck in Abscido territory, in all technicalities DEAD, until I hand you over. Still have the knife?”

I nod, unable to find words, my whole body wanting to go limp.

“Good. Don’t lose it and whatever you do DON’T let them know you have it,” Tommo continues quickly, intensely, “Don’t panic either. POGs will follow and we WILL come and get you, understand?”

I nod again, fighting the urge to pass out as Montreal’s steady glare burns into the side of my head. I can feel POGs go rigid, his arms still around me.

“We never leave family behind,” Tommo leans forward a bit, icy eyes meeting my gaze, but oddly, this time not causing me to feel cold. His hand comes up and pats the side of my face roughly, but reassuringly. “That’s a fucking promise.”

With a nudge from the bronze haired man, POGs lets me go, worry written across his expression. But he shoots me a smile, which says silently, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Again, I flash back to the alleyway in which I met him. He had watched over me then too, scaring off Montreal and his thugs. The only reason he doesn’t do the same now is obviously because setting off a bomb here would only be detrimental. We would kill Haz and Prints anyway with an explosion, so there’s no use. They would call our bluff immediately.

I keep this in mind when I walk away from the two people keeping me safe.

They’ll come and find me.