TW: MENTION OF DRUGS, SMOKING, ALCOHOL, MURDER, AND DEATH.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
YOU KNEW IT WASN'T going to be easy getting Mai and Maki in the same room. But, you knew it was going to be easy getting Mai to accept your invitation to your club.
The offer was an offer that some people wished they had. Especially, if the offer was made directly from you to the invitee. Your invite was gracious, giving Mai and a few of her friends to be V.I.P's for a night.
Your plan was set in motion when Mai and a few of her friends showed up the suggested night.
You sat patiently in your office, awaiting the arrival of Nobara to tell you they were all settled in. You hadn't been in your office in a while, the comfort of it making you able to let your thoughts run wild in the inside of your brain.
The return of your presence was noticed by a large amount of people in the club, some happy to see you were still alive.
News got around fast on the streets, rumors of their own flickering up like street lights. Some rumors were more believable than others, but not quite right.
Finally, the truth came out about a week ago, several of your customers immediately cutting ties with you because they were pussies.
You didn't blame them entirely for cutting the ties, though. The Zen'in clan was ruthless with their enemies and their enemies friends, families, and connections. The idea of cutting them off was easily appealing to those involved.
The connections that still stood with you were more than able to protect themselves from the clan, making you fully aware of who your allies were.
You weren't as scared as you were when you first heard the notorious clan was after you. The thought just making your blood boil and your confidence boost.
It was like you were able to brag about a highly organized ring coming after you entirely. The thought of them being scared of your abilities and your quickness to rule is what kept you going and come this far.
You were highly aware they were after your friends, so you told them you'd understand if they wanted to leave.
None of them did, though.
All of your dealers, bartenders, waiters, security members, and faculty all chose to stay. Which, you found to be a big plus and was grateful you wouldn't loose a ton of employees.
You also informed your parents about what was going on, telling them they needed to get as far away from the city as possible.
Thankfully, they agreed. Having no interest in the shenanigans you were in and completely trusted you to do your thing.
They didn't know you were a drug dealer so..
Oops.
You were hopeful that this nightmare would end and you wouldn't have to worry about it any longer. You were reminded that they could easily be watching your every move, every day. Which was kind of weird, but wasn't shocking.
You had gotten plenty of death threats. On both sides of your careers, to be precise. You either got told to kill yourself because you weren't pretty enough to be a model, or were threatened to be stabbed in the throat if you didn't give someone drugs.
Both of your reputations had a high stake of stalkers, or complete weirdos that bombarded your instagram posts, or your drug deals.
None of those threats were taken into consideration since they were mostly from drug addicts rather than drug rings.
But, now? You were fully aware that the gunman that disturbed you and Maki's date was a death threat.
And you didn't take that lightly.
It would be ignorant to take it lightly, letting your silly little ego get the best of you and then BAM. You're body is lying on the floor of your home with bullet wounds and a knife to the neck.
You grimaced at the thought of being stabbed in the throat, sitting back and letting the harshness of the hot smoke fill your throat as you took a drag of your cigarette. The killing stick lying measly in your dainty manicured fingers.
Your legs were crossed as you tapped your knee, your bracelets jingling at the motion of your hands that echoed throughout the empty room.
The only other sound was the thump of the bass that somewhat rattled your walls. The club much livelier tonight than other nights.
You knew it was because it was a Friday and people had just gotten off work or just got done with night classes at college.
You never went to college for anything.
You didn't know what you'd do other than model or drug deal, the idea of doing neither of those things was unappealing to your eyes.
Your mask was nested on your face as you took another drag, the smoke filling your lungs as you huffed it back out, the feeling making you slightly wince.
People don't call it a killing stick for nothing.
You leaned from the back of your couch, bending forward to reach for the glass of whiskey that was settled on the coffee table.
You picked up the glass, the ice that was shaped like a ball, clinked against the glass ever so slightly. The sound like a chime in the wind.
You took a sip as the cigarette stayed in its normal position, smoking coming out at the end like a chimney in the winter.
The smoke made a squiggly line as it protruded out of the cancer stick, proceeding to fill the air with the strong scent of nicotine.
You didn't smoke as much as others thought you did. You only smoked when you were stressed, or needed a little sting to take you back into your senses.
The feeling was electrifying to you, but you never smoked more than a pack ever two or three weeks. Maybe a month if you were in a really good mood.
You set the glass down as the flames the cigarette produced in your lungs was dowsed by the drink, the slight sting of the cigarette was now replaced with the harsh taste and sting of the alcohol.
You set the drink back down on the coffee table, a coaster in place to keep from ruining the fairly expensive table with a wet ring.
You then sat back again, letting your exposed back hit the surface of the velvet couch. You leaned your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you placed the cigarette back in between your lips.
You took a huff, blowing the smoke back into the air and watching the smoke as it formed into a small little cloud.
Suddenly, a loud knock replaced the semi-quietness of the room. You turned towards the door, leaning forwards and putting out your cigarette in an ash tray that decorated the table.
