Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 5 - Covering the Moon

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART ONE: Tears Fall When You See The Truth

Chapter 5 - Covering The Moon

Ally lay in the enveloping darkness, her eyes wide open but still unseeing. She listened to the steady breathing of the male behind her, silent tears of frustration and distress dripping from her lashes. She was all too aware of his presence, located only a foot from where she lay on her side. Ally took in a deep breath, her fingertips curling around the edge of the bedspread that was directly beneath her grasp due to her having moved to lay as far from her kidnapper as was possible. Even in the large, king-sized bed, she felt trapped by the man's proximity.

No light seeped in from the large windows Ally had spotted when he had first shown her the room and the lack of the soft, pale rays of the moon served as a testament to the lost hope inside of her. She had made it four years and now she was caught again, back in the exact same place she had begun.

Her hand moved unconsciously to the new tattoo that rested on her hip, the only sign that she had found it being the slight pain that originated from the point when she applied pressure to it. Ally had only viewed the tattoo briefly but it was already ingrained in her memory, the three stars holding much more meaning to her than anyone would have thought. They forever bound her to her brother's gang, ensuring that she would not be able to completely distance herself from his gang like she had hoped. No longer did she only have to worry about being recognized as the infamous James Carter's little sister, but also that the tattoo might be spotted. With almost everyone in the country aware of Black Death's presence and influence, there would be few places she could go to find true peace and freedom. Everyone knew that to spot one of the gang's runaways and not turn them in was as well as signing your own death certificate.

Ally shuddered, her mind already conjuring up the image of the gruesome pattern the ink had created on her flesh. No one would mistake the illusion of cracked skin around the edges of the three stars as a personal tattoo, let alone the words that were printed inside of the largest star, seemingly set into the layer of skin beneath the outline of the star as if someone had cut a star out of her skin and then written the words in the gap. Until the world is black as a moonless sky, so shall soulless men die.

Even the very words were constructed to strike fear in the hearts of every policeman and citizen, until no one was willing to stand up to the gruesome gang. Unable to locate the main bases, police had almost turned a blind eye to Black Death's criminal activities, knowing that if they were to arrest one of its members they would only ensure the death of either one of their own or a witness. Never having been able to keep enough evidence against a member to actually convict them, they were always forced to release the criminal back onto the streets.

Ally froze in her thoughts, her breath catching in her throat as she heard the man stir behind her. She remained rigid, not allowing herself to move as the bed rocked slightly from his movement before his breathing once again evened out.

That night, she remained wide awake long after he had drifted back into a steady sleep, wondering what was to become of her.

Daniil awoke to sunlight slipping in through the glass doors that led out onto his large balcony. Groaning, he covered his eyes and rolled over in an attempt to move from the blinding beams falling across his face. His hand brushed against a figure, obviously situated beside him, and his eyes snapped open in an instant. Daniil's fingers had already curled around the hilt of the gun that he kept hidden underneath of his pillow by the time he remembered the events that had transpired only the day before.

Relaxing back onto the bed, Daniil allowed himself to lazily observe the sleeping woman sprawled across the bed beside him, her chest delicately moving up and down with each deep breath she took. She was much more tranquil than the last time he had seen her, her muscles having relaxed once she had succumed to her exhaustion and was no longer able to keep up her rigid position on the very edge of the bed.

Letting out a long sigh, Daniil drew the thick comforter back and took his first step into the chilly morning air that had permeated his room from the small vent set into the ceiling. He debated briefly the prospect of getting back into his warm bed but ultimately decided that he shouldn't keep his men waiting. Walking to the bathroom and splashing a handful of cold water on his face, Daniil knew that he could not exhibit the same behavior he punished his men for without losing their respect.

Dressing in his typical jeans and tshirt for the day, Daniil made quick work of his morning preparations. Glancing at the woman sleeping in his bed one last time as he laced up his black work boots, Daniil exited his room and locked the door behind him. He slipped the key onto the chain around his neck that held his dogtags as he marched through the short remainder of the hallway before descending down the decorative staircase.

Daniil sighed as he reached the ground level of the mansion, his hands trailing over the polished wood of the railing as he exited the stairwell. He took long, purposeful strides as he made his way to the large conference room that dominated the spacious first floor, knowing that he had little time before he would be seen late in the eyes of his men.

Upon entry, a man briefly glanced up from his work at the end of the long, rectangular table before returning to the paperwork on the table before him. Sam, the recent, energetic recruit to the Chicago gang base and also the person in question, was the only other person in the grand room besides Daniil himself.

"Sorry if I kept you waiting."

The words came from Daniil, but the smaller man at the table simply shrugged in response, not wishing to anger the man of much greater station and power than himself. "It's no problem."

Daniil nodded in acceptance before taking the seat at the head of the mahogany table and shifting some of the papers towards his position at the table so that he could skim over their contents. "Where are the other men?"

Sam shrugged. "Some of them finished their work early and others are out on missions."

Noticing that the trade in his hand would in no way profit the gang, Daniil tossed the first file onto the middle of the table dismissively, adding to the already small pile of discarded paperwork. Relaxing back into his chair, Daniil prepared himself for another boring morning full of boring desk work and pulled another file from the enormous pile stacked between the two of them.

A large crash was suddenly heard from upstairs, followed by a heavy sting of cursing. Daniel smirked to himself as he eyed the ceiling through which he knew his charge was located before turning his eyes back to the man beside him at the table.

Sam raised a single eyebrow in question.

Daniil simply leaned back into his chair, crossing one of his ankles over the other lazily. The smile never left his face as he replied to his colleague's unspoken question. "I believe my personal slave has just found that the doors leading out onto my balcony are made of indestructible glass."