Newt | Through The Gates Of Hell

Tension is in the Air

Y/N's POV

I took a moment for myself in the dark bathroom after changing into my normal clothes.

My heart was racing, and I felt hot and uncomfortable. My lips tingled at the thought of the phantom kiss we almost shared.

Did my lips actually touch his? Or did Minho separate us before contact. Did we-

I cut bad Y/N off before she spiralled on a tangent about a kiss with a very handsome and sweet young man.

I glanced at the mirror one last time before stepping back into Marcus' office.

I immediately wanted to go back into the bathroom. The tension in the air was thick and palpable, almost as heavy as Minho's massive ego.

Most of the room was focussed on Jorge, who had Marcus in a chokehold and was murmuring threats into Marcus' ears like they were sweet nothings.

But what caught my attention the most would most certainly be whatever the fuck was going on between Thomas, Brenda and Teresa. 

Interesting. I'd observe more later, but I diverted my attention to the more pressing matter at hand.

"What's going on?" I whispered as I moved to stand near Minho and Newt.

"Shuckface here is refusing to tell us where Bertha is," Minho informed me.

"Who's Bertha?"

"No idea."

"You owe me, Marcus." Jorge said as he released Marcus and pushed him into a chair. 

"You lost Bertha. You gave her to me. To me,"  the latter sniped.

"Well, if your definition of "giving her to you" is you stealing her behind my back, by all means, I gave her to you. Now, I want her back."

"No can do."

My frustration was slowly growing. Pulling a knife from my bandolier, I strode towards the ugly man.

Pointing my knife at his throat, I said, "Look, brochacho. You see this group? We're hungry, tired, thirsty and are in absolutely no mood to put up with your bullshit at this moment in time, or in the foreseeable future. You tell us where this Bertha is, and we let you go back to that little trashy party of yours. We won't bother you anymore, and you can have all the damn alcohol you want and invite all the porcupine haired friends you have. So, would you be a decent human being and kindly give us this chick's coordinates so we can ascertain her whereabouts and be on our respective merry ways?"

Something shifted in his eyes, and for a foolish moment, I thought I had him convinced.

That was until his lips twisted into a grotesque smirk and he said, "OK, pretty girl. I'll tell you where Bertha is if you do a little... special something for me."

I didn't have to be a genius to understand what he was implying. Huffing an exasperated sigh, I turned around and walked away from him. I didn't even need to turn around as I flicked my wrist, releasing the knife I gripped. A dull thud and a shriek told me I had hit my mark.

I spun around to the sight of a still-screaming Marcus gripping his bleeding ear as he stared at the knife embedded right next to his head in horror.

"Careful, Y/N. I don't think his tiny brain can handle this much multitasking—terror and arousal at once," Minho pipes up from behind me.

Marcus let out a wet laugh, trying to save face. "Little whelp thinks she's ready to wear her big-girl panties. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart—you don't do a damn thing to turn me on."