Insanity

10

The four of them sat around the table, you could hear the clicking of heels and fingers tapping, patiently (not really) waiting for Mason to finally plug in his presentation that he made, because he wanted to be extra.

And you can't ever have a meeting without joyous colors of red and black and white somewhere.

Blythe flickered her attention to her cousins, Carlos and Colton, who stared at Mason, no longer with adoration but with annoyance and irritation.

She kept on shaking her foot, feeling jittery and folded her arms across her, huffing.
"That's the guy they were fawning over cause he got them laid"

"I can't find the fucking hole." Mason cries, getting up from under the table.

"I wonder what other holes you didn't get into." Colton snickers.

"I need my glasses, I can't see shit." He complains, maybe if he'd turn the lights on, it would be clearer.

"Is this why we usually fuck with the lights on?" Blythe asks, cleaning her nails.

"No we do that so you see my sexy face," he counters, "I don't think I have time to close the fucking lights when I'm balls deep inside you."

The presentation opens and Mason stands at the end of the desk, ignoring everyone that didn't want to hear anything of his sex life, clicking onto the next slide where a poorly drawn stick figure stood, "This," he points, "is our target, Cake.

"From what we've found out about him is basic, how old he is, what he does, where he lives, and why we're after him." He lists, one by one as Mason clicks on the keyboard, Blake's information appears on the board.

"You see this USB?" It's pulled out from his pocket and onto the desk, "This isn't the real one, a replica of the one we're after, it has all the data that could expose the things we do, not that many people don't know but they've never found the evidence to out us, we've always been a step ahead and removed any...issues.

"Someone tipped us about Blake, and obviously, we aren't gonna kill this kid before we get our evidence and proof that this is the target." He leans against the wall with the remote in his hand.

He had his arms folded with the sleeves rolled up, and all Blythe could concentrate on were the veins and those...arms that chocked her a few nights before. It wasn't a surprise that he was well built, she knew he was, she's seen him naked, he wasn't too buff and not too skinny. Whenever they were close to each other, touching each other, she felt his hard chest rubbing against her when they had sex.

"And there's rumors he's related to a mob, like a bastard son, his father was murdered, we don't know by who, but being allies with the people in New York, it's kind of like, our duty to not let them get threatened or fall down the ditch ourselves." He rolls his eyes and clicks onto the remote.

"Do you know how many people would die to get a hand on that information?" He asks rhetorically, "Literally everyone ever."

Blythe caught onto his words.

'Allies.'

She hated the conversation she had with her father earlier, but she didn't have a choice. The past two days, he'd hinted what he planned to do to the Rodriquez and this morning he ordered her.

Blythe couldn't say no. Not only was he her father and superior, but she was selfish. She was selfish and didn't want to die at the hands of her father by betraying the Russians, she was compared to her dead mother all these years.

What difference would it make though?

Her mother died being disloyal to her husband. Fearing him. The moment she decides to run away. Be selfish. She's caught, tortured and murdered in front of Blythe.