Shattered Innocence

Unraveling the Past

They lead me to the closest restaurant, their gazes never straying from me even as I hide my gun behind my coat. We are in public, but that doesn't mean I trust them. It could be a trap. Nevertheless, I follow them inside the little eatery. I ignore the chair he pulls out and sit at another, yanking it in before he can assist me. Pulling my gun from my jacket, I make sure to keep it aimed at them as they choose seats around me. 

One of them watches me with a smile before another man drops into the chair next to mine. He's attractive, that's for sure, but he knows it. He has dark, nearly black hair that's cut shorter on the sides and long in the front, so it sweeps across his forehead as he moves. His eyebrows arch over bright, baby-blue eyes that lock me in place, and his pink, puffy lips tilt as he watches me. His strong, square jaw is covered in stubble that's clearly a few days old, stopping at his sharp cheekbones. His nose has a small scar across the bridge, probably from being broken once or twice, and I spot a scar on his left earlobe too. 

He's a big bastard, not as big as some of the others at the table, but tall and packed with long, toned muscles. It's his eyes, however, that cause me to stare. They are cold but cunning. 

"I'm Yuri." He smirks flirtatiously. I nod in acknowledgment as Zack drops into a different chair. Slowly, all the others do as well, and I run my eyes over them. The one next to Yuri is taller. He has to be nearly seven feet, with arms thicker than my body and thighs that would make a bodybuilder weep. His face is square and angular, both attractive and strong. 

He appears stern with his serious, deep-brown eyes, yet his black hair is neatly styled across his head. I spot a lot of scars and tattoos peeking out of his clothes as he meets my eyes. "This is Nikolay," Zack informs me, and the big guy nods slightly at me but doesn't speak. He seems uncomfortable sitting in the tiny diner chair. 

Dressed in all black, he reminds me of an assassin. "I'm Ivan," the one with the brilliant smile says, reaching over and shaking my hand gently. He's not testing my grip, just genuinely happy to meet me. Weird. He's only a few inches taller than me, but he still clearly works hard at being strong. His muscles are well-defined, but he seems friendly and easygoing. 

His eyes are almost a grey slate color, which are filled with warmth where the others aren't, and are surrounded by long black lashes. His lips are a rosy color and tipped up into a smile, and they are so thick and pouty, I'm almost jealous. He's ridiculously handsome, that's for sure, and the longer I stare at his friendly face, the more I'm struck by his features. 

He has a sharp jaw and cheekbones, a short beard extending up over his lip, and nicely styled hair, which is clearly meant to look like he put no time into it but very obviously did. Where Nico looks like a killer, this man looks like a model. 

"Mikhail," the last man says, his thick accent rolling over his words. He sounds Serbian or Russian. I analyze him like the others. Fuck, he's attractive too. What are they? A bunch of fucking runway models? His deep brown and golden-streaked hair is pushed back carelessly and shaved at the sides. His eyes are warm, honey brown and so fucking intense, I swear he can see into my soul. 

His face is a mixture of hard and soft, with sharp cheekbones and jaw but plump, plush lips. He's got a nose that's slightly crooked, probably from being broken, and a small scar on his chin. He looks like he's from a different era, with his strong, masculine features and piercing eyes. I want to say he looks dangerous, but I'm not entirely sure. He looks like he's had a rough life, yet it hasn't affected his looks. I'd put money on the fact he has women falling at his feet. It's hard to tell his body type under his clothes, but he moves with confidence and grace, like a goddamn predator.

His lips are in a neutral line, not frowning nor tilted up. As I look at him, his long, scarred fingers tap on the table impatiently, as if playing the rhythm of a song I can't hear. He's the smallest of them, slim too, but there is a shrewd intelligence in his eyes that reminds me not to underestimate him.