The Celts (West Side Story: Riff X Reader)

Chapter 2

My heart thudded to the floor and I felt the color drain from my face when I realized that the man had followed me. He was only about six yards away. I ignored what Ronan had said to our group and stood my ground.

"Why don't you tell me your name?" The guy said, stepping closer to me. It wasn't a distance that I was shrinking away from, but he was close enough to where I could see his facial features. He was a single yard away.

"Elizabeth Byrne." I said slowly. 

"Riff." He said, sticking out his hand for me to shake. Stupidly, I didn't think before shaking his hand. When I did, he clasped my hand tightly in his and yanked me towards him. His voice had dropped in volume and became darker. "That was a smooth stunt you pulled. Who are you?"

"I already told you my name." I said, trying to pull my arm back from him, but he was unyielding. 

"What do your Celts call you?" Riff asked in a demanding tone.

"I'm not a part of the Celts!" I said in a shrill voice. Riff grabbed both of my arms and backed me up into a brick wall. 

"Stop lying." He said, grunting with the effort of keeping my fighting at bay. He ended up taking both of my hands in one of his and setting his left forearm over my neck. He could cut off my airways if he wanted. I stopped moving. "The Celts came here one year ago. Twelve people. If I'm remembering correctly, Ronan is the ring leader of you guys. Your boy Clanner attacked one of my guys this morning."

"I have no idea what you're taking about." I said stiffly. He put pressure onto my throat and my breath caught.

"Tell me the truth." He said in an ominously dark tone. It was at that very moment that I remembered the dagger I had tucked away in the pocket of my shirt. I ripped a hand free of his grip and pulled the knife out. he made no movements that could show that he even realized I was wielding a weapon. I took my opportunity to back him against the opposite brick wall, dagger at his throat.

"My name is Liza Byrne." I said, making my tone just has threatening as his had been. "And my Celts don't want any trouble with the Jets or Sharks."

"You already got trouble with us." He said, staring at me. "You're on our terf."

"Your terf is pickpocketing blind men and poor women." I said, venom in my voice. Something flashed over in his eyes and he knocked the dagger out of my hand. And now it was me against the other wall. He had me effectively pinned, his hands holding mine beside my head. His face was a mere inch from my face. 

"We live on the streets but we never pickpocketed no blind man." He said. It took every ounce of willpower to hold his stare. After a moment of thick tension, I kicked him hard in the leg. He made a noise, but did not falter in his grip. It soon occurred to me how I've gotten myself out of many dangerous situation in the past. I then pressed my lips hard against his. This is what took him off guard. His grip loosened enough for me to slip out of his grip. He took a step back and stared at me. "What they hell are you doing?"

I didn't say another word. Instead, I picked up my dagger and sprinted all the way back to the abandoned apartments.