↳ 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑 ー 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

𝐋𝐗𝐗𝐈 ー 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬

◉

Pained groans mix with laboured breaths. The man claws at the concrete and drags his injured legs behind him, casting a fearful glance over his shoulder. Blood spills from the gash on his cheek as he struggles.

When he looks at the trail of crimson on the ground in his wake, his hand extends and catches something. A leg. He holds his breath, slowly lifting his head to view the man above him. Tattoos, bulging muscles, piercing grey eyes.

A strangled yell becomes trapped in his throat as he scrambles away from Grayson. Despite him wasting his efforts to drag himself in the opposite direction, hands and arms slipping in the river of blood, he doesn't move.

Why isn't he moving?

All of a sudden his back greets something. No, someone. He warily diverts his gaze to the heeled boots. Raising higher and higher until he's fixated on champagne hair and a predatory smile.

His jaw unhinges to release a deafening bellow.

○ ○ ○

Running a hand through freshly washed hair, Sierra elegantly jogs down the stairs. At the distant sound of her heels the men gathered near the dining table cease talking. When they finally lay eyes on her they incline their heads, lowering to one knee.

The first time they bowed she scolded them. The following day they dismissed her words and bowed again. The fact that they continue to do so tells her Grayson might be pulling strings behind the scenes.

He stands close by and lowers his voice. "Do you want me on my knees too?"

It's an achievement that she swallows her gasp before it escapes. His smile is upside down as he moves away to lean against the table, exuding such calmness that it encourages her to take a breath and compose herself.

"The group that escaped." She's thankful her voice sounds as normal as possible.

"Detained," Damian answers. "Most of them have information, they're coughing it up as we speak."

"Kodi?"

"Dealt with," Steele replies. He returns the toothpick between his lips, toying with it while he listens to the others list off other deals.

Heath raises his hand. "I want it known I don't trust some of the guys from Brooklyn."

"Really?" Atlas stares at him in disbelief. "That's your contribution? You have trust issues?"

"Only when it comes to the gangs that won't hesitate to stab us in the back. I'm telling you these guys can't be trusted. Check their backgrounds, they're shady."

"I'll keep it in mind," Sierra mumbles.

"I'll run the checks myself." Heath's shoulders raise in defence. He falters when a phone rings and interrupts the conversation.

Sierra is about to dismiss it until she scans the name. Promptly excusing herself, she lays a hand on Grayson's arm before taking herself to the kitchen. He takes her place though his eyes are glued to her.

"What's wrong?"

"She's hurt," Preston reveals. "It's not bad but she's shaken up. She told me not to callー"