𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

70

A/N:

uni started again you guys, bear with me as updates get slower :( I hope you like this chapter though<3

***

"NO, NO," HERNANDEZ'S VOICE WAS CONDESENDING AS HE sprinted up the stairs after me, a wide grin encapsulating his tattooed face, his colorful rough dreadlocks whipping his back with the force of his movements.

"You can't outrun me, Davina."

He voice was breathy, amused, taunting, teasing.

6ix9ine. As I ran, my legs threatening to fail me in my panic, I thought of how the tables had turned and burned in between me and him. How long ago was it, when I had him under my thumb-forcing him to carry out whatever errands Whittall tasked us with?

Hernandez and Woods-6ix9ine and Lil Uzi Vert-both of them had always been the muscle. Playboi Carti and Trippie Redd had been both the brains and muscle at times, but these two were always the muscle.

They were perspiration on tatted foreheads, the scent of alcohol clinging to their mismatched clothes, vulgar jokes exchanged and laughed slyly at, layered chains around their necks, still smoking cigarettes half dangling from in between dark lips, guns tucked in back pockets, all as they scoffed and snorted and yet were forced to work under me-to carry out what I told them to carry out.

I had been Whittall's eyes and ears-his senses-and so disobeying me had been disobeying him.

But now those tables had turned and burned. Now they could do whatever they wanted.

I wondered if it all only added to the hate these two felt for me. The compelling, blinding hate that led them to get a group of Whittall's men and ambush me, Colson and our son at a park and open fire at us without a second thought.

I think it is times like these, for which people say that you should be careful who you offend. Life can take a fucking flip so fast, and it doesn't even give you a chance to recuperate.

I was about to bolt up to the second floor of the mansion, the floor beneath the highest floor, where the hall I used for fittings, the main living room and Chioma's room were. Chioma's room, with both her and my son inside, waiting for me to give them a signal.

I stopped dead in my tracks then, panting as my chest threatened to burst with how hard my heart was pounding. What was I doing? I can't lead Hernandez and Woods, to my son and Chioma.

These bastards were here for me.

Hernandez stopped a few feet behind me as I stopped in the wide decorative hall on the first floor. The lights were off, only soft white light coming in from the second floor upstairs. The kitchen was right here, darkened for the night, the dining table where we had food three times a day, was right here too. The main guestrooms, darkened and their doors closed, were lined inside the hallway to the far right.

In the semi darkness, I slowly turned around to face my chaser, only to find a wide grin encapsulated on his tattooed face. His thick colorful dreadlocks were like spray painted wooden sticks framing his face, falling past his shoulders against the white sleeveless t-shirt he wore. He was panting from the little chase, but he wasn't mad about it. The satisfaction of me submitting myself by stopping the run, took over the anger.

"What," He scoffed then, still grinning. "Have you gotten so soft since Whittall that you can't give me more of a chase?"

I didn't say anything, my eyes bearing into his with as much anger and hatred I could muster.

"His fat ass kept you on your toes, Davina," 6ix9ine grinned, taking a step closer. "Was it the dick he gave you or was it something else?"

The questions didn't require an answer. He didn't want an answer. He only wished to grip at my frustration, lord his superiority over my helplessness.