God Of Desire

fire and finesse

Madden:

As I slid into the driver's seat of my white BMW, the familiar leather enveloped me like a second skin. Ivarsen took his place in the passenger seat, his energy already buzzing, while Gunner settled into the back, his demeanor as laid-back as ever. Uncle Damon and Aunt Winter had already departed in their sleek SUV, their business-like intensity still hanging in the air like a fog.

I could feel the tension from the meeting linger, thick and palpable, wrapping around us as we prepared to pull away. I gripped the wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white, the hum of the engine a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere.

"Who knew a pretty face could pack such a punch?" Ivarsen’s laugh broke the silence, a sound that was both irritating and oddly infectious.

Gunner turned his head, shooting his brother a glance that spoke volumes boredom mixed with mild annoyance. I ignored Ivarsen’s usual antics, focusing instead on the road ahead, as my eyes remained fixed on the road, I couldn't shake the image of those piercing green eyes from my mind eyes that seemed capable of slicing right through me, revealing every hidden thought and desire.

Ivarsen's light dimmed slowly as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slightly. It was a habit of his, this shift in demeanor whenever he felt pissed or offended. He often descended into a maniacal state, bursting into laughter like a fool, only to pivot aggressively moments later.

“Who the hell does she think she is?” he spat, his frustration palpable as he stared out at the passing road. Gunner sighed from the back seat, trying to keep the mood light.

“Honestly, the deal wasn’t that bad. Yeah, we crashed it a bit, but who cares? We still got the deal, though.”

“Who the hell cares about the deal, Gun? She disrespected us and talked like she’s a big deal. And that prick—her dad.” Ivarsen's anger boiled over, his frustration evident as he gripped the seat.

“She’ll get her turn. Don’t get worked up over stupid things,” I said, my voice steady and calm, maintaining my usual collected demeanor. I could feel the weight of the moment pressing in, but I didn’t let it show.

Good thing I didn’t feel emotions like the others—or maybe I did, but I simply knew how to control them better. While Ivarsen let his feelings surge and crash like a storm, I kept mine tucked away, neatly organized and restrained. Gunner was more nonchalant, his calm exterior masking the chaotic thrill he enjoyed from the messiness of life. And then there was Aaron, who thrived on the playful manipulation of everyone around him, relishing in the chaos he could create.

I often heard whispers about my stoic nature, how I was like Uncle Damon in that respect, yet I saw myself differently. I wasn’t cold or unfeeling.

Okay maybe I am.

But i just chose to wield my emotions like a skilled swordsman, only drawing them out when absolutely necessary.

As we pulled into the expansive parking lot of our headquarters, a building that stood as a testament to the power and influence of the four families...Mori, Torrance, Grayson, and Fane...I felt a familiar sense of purpose settle over me. The structure was an imposing mix of sleek glass and dark steel, a fortress that held secrets and alliances forged in the shadows.

I parked the BMW, the engine humming softly as I turned it off, and glanced at Ivarsen, who had shifted his focus from the road to the building, his brow furrowed in thought. Gunner leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, his expression neutral, as always, but I could sense the underlying tension in his posture.