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Part 9.

2Mbo, was a lavish hotel building designed to attract tourists with its uniqueness while attracting locals with that home away from home feeling. It was open and allowed one to breathe at ease, and gave access to a paramonic view of the city worth paying to see. She wondered how it would feel to see something as magical as the northern lights of Iceland if that of shimmering glass towers made her heart feel so light.

Before her was Ian, between them a square table with a white creaseless cloth smoothly spread atop it, before them wine glasses. They looked like a stupidly in love couple spending all their savings given their out of place dress code.

"It's amazing..." she murmured under her breath, then chuckled a bit before turning back to the eyes that had been piercing right through her the last ten minutes.

"Your stamina is impressive I have to say..." Ian said, swirling the wine glass with experienced expertise. His tone was indifferent this time if one listened closely, but still, his lips curled flirtatiously, "I can't believe you actually came.... thought I had to drag you for that to happen."

"What is this, the it could have been a dungeon but I had a change of heart?" She asked, managing to stay composed despite the whole situation still seeming like a hypnotic experience.

"Actually yes.." he said.

"Told you, I have backup.," she said, but despite staying calm on the outside, inside, a part of her kept screaming for her to get away while she still could, to stop all of this and head home, but the thought of his men casually blended among the people, waiting for her to make the wrong moves was an excuse for her to stay put.

Picking up her wine glass, she tried copying his movements, but a bit of wine spilt on the embroidered flowery laces on her dress, painting the cream a crimson red.

He was amused by her unwavering expression even at a time when others would have been embarrassed, then stood up and padded towards the glass railing for a better view of the city.

"You are making it worse." He breathed, then turned back in a smile, "you are worried about the wrong kind of red this evening."

Words said with a laid back voice, she couldn't tell whether it was a threat or a test, made a subtle chill crawl up her back, making her let out a sigh before following suit.

"So, you do this often? Take your prisoners for a date." She asked brusquely.

He huffed a laugh, then sucked his teeth before speaking in a distant voice, while staring into the city he knew like the back of his hand. Standing here, he could spot several hideouts of gangs he had run into, illegal organisations hidden in plain sight among these buildings he had visited several times for business, he could point out where every abandoned construction or shutdown railway station was, every bridge, alley, creak and open that existed.

He deserved to be the top dog, the thought crossed his mind over and over again, but there was a problem that felt like an ethical dilemma.

"It turns out that I do for Nine.. " he said. "We weren't always the best of friends, to be honest." He began his narration, his eyes long lost in the memories of old as if he was in that place again.

"You'd think living under the bridges like a bunch of rats wasn't hectic already, one day, my gang found him and brought him to our hideout."

"Is that metaphorical?" She laughed.

"Some were orphans, others lost, others like Nine...had no choice, while others, like myself....ran away from home." At the latter, he tore his eyes from the city and into her eyes, for a few seconds, as if telling her he could see right through her tough facade for he had been there too, then back out there.