AH collections

Slowly, then all at once a dream (3)

Jeremwood
Word count: 6453
Chapters: 4

Improbable

Jeremy flinched at the first sound of gunshots, rocking up out of his seat. For a heartbeat, he was in a dark alley, pain ripping through his side.

Matt grabbed his elbow, and he stumbled into the man, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Somehow, Matt looked bored. Getting robbed , he mouthed silently at Jeremy, with a shrug.

Fear raced through him, and he felt nauseous. For some reason, he thought of Vagabond, sleeping off his bad night somewhere all alone.

The door slammed open, and he shouted in alarm, getting a big, silver handgun shoved in his face for his trouble.

"Easy there, kid. Hate to hafta kill ya," the man holding the gun was tall and handsome, with sleepy blue eyes and a smirk curled under his circus-ring-leader mustache. If that wasn't enough to identify him, he was wearing a pristine suit, and had tattoos on his knuckles and hands and wrists, disappearing into his sleeves.

Geoff Ramsey, leader of the Fake AH Crew.

And his gun was inches away from Jeremy's face.

Terror raced through him, made his heart pound loud in his ears, made his knees weak.

He could die here, right now.

He pushed the thought away and steeled his spine. Clenched his fists. Tried to channel some of his Soulmate's fire, using anger to push away the fear.

Ramsey's sleepy eyes were sharp, watching him as he shifted from flight to fight. He opened his mouth to comment, but was interrupted.

"Cut it out, asshole," Matt growled, shoving Jeremy behind him and pushing the barrel of Ramsey's gun away.

Ramsey laughed, holstering the gun, the moment broken.

Matt grumbled as he pulled his laptop around to them, and went back to typing away on it.

Jeremy stared at Matt's back, shock and harsh disappointment rising in his throat.

"You're ... it's you . You're Axial," his voice rose with his temper.

Matt's shoulders crept up to his ears, but he didn't answer.

A hand landing on his shoulder reminded him that they weren't alone.

Ryan rolled out of his bed before he was even fully awake, unfamiliar fear heavy on his tongue, a weapon in his hand before his feet touched the floor.

He paced the length of the room, his gun sweeping in wide, protective arcs, before he realized there was no danger.

At least, for him .

"No!" It came out in a snarl. He started getting dressed, yanking on his still-bloody jacket and strapping on his weapons quickly.

His Soulmate was being threatened, and by none other than the self-proclaimed Kingpin of AC, Geoff fucking Ramsey.

Ryan dug the burner phone out from where he'd tossed it last night, and dialled quickly, pocketing spare ammunition one handed.

The number was disconnected.

He smashed the phone against the wall with a roar.

Fucking Ramsey, he would kill that bastard, how dare he point ... his gun ...

"At my Soulmate," Ryan murmured, heart in his throat.

Surely Ramsey wouldn't point that big pistol of his in that many faces today? Right?