Ereri - ONE SHOT BOOK 📚

1. A Breakout [MAFIA LEADER!EREN X POLICE OFFICER LEVI] - PART ONE

LEVI'S P.O.V
He's back; the third time this week for the same reason. Seeing his face so often around these slums isn't a give-take sorta thing-- it almost feels like he's doing it on purpose. Of course, this boy had to be the leader of a hard-going mafia clan, who's been stealing from the incomers, the rich, the poor and the sick. It literally was sick.
I, a police officer like myself had no other alternative but to handcuff him and drag him to a cell. I do it often, and I'm beginning to find it a little fun.
So, at this point, he's in his cell, watching me through the cold, steel bars. I was stood opposite his cell to make sure he had no means of touching me-- thankfully the cell beside me was empty. "Don'tcha' get bored standin' there all day?" His husky, drunk voice drummed around the room, echoing ar every corner. I glanced up at him under the brim of my hat and shrugged-- "I don't know; Don't you get bored sitting in a dark cell all day?" The Mafia leader's eyes began to glisten in the dark overhanging metal walls that barricaded him, they drooped down, then back up to me. "S'pose" He muttered, "But it's better in here then it is out in that hell-hole." He sighed and stood up, beginning to thump his way over with all of his chain-wear clunking as he walked. I began to grow nervous; he was heavily intimidating: wore no shirt- well toned and appeared quite brutal-- I was surprised how I even got him to drop his weapons before I took him in.
His loose, very baggy sweatpants draped over his sneakers he wore: muddy and scuffed up. He had pink scars laced upon his chest along with a chain tattoo that lined a cross- clearly running to his back as well. He had a tattoo of a joker card on his upper left arm and another chain strip tattoo that went diagonally along his face.
"How comes?" I tried not to lock eye contact with him. "You're here." He chuckled and gripped the bars of the cell, staring straight into me. It was too much to ask- I took a harsh glance up at him and looked into his murky green eyes, my mind suddenly felt eased. "Me. I'm nothing special. You should be grieving on me, surely." I placed my hands into my pockets, my hand rested softly onto the pepper spray canister I kept. "Sure you are. You don't give me any of these, do ya'?" He pointed to a few of the scars and bruises on his body, placing his hands swiftly back onto the bars.
"Who.. Did that?"
••
"The cunts that took me in first- before you came along and changed that."
••
"Before me? They were in this police force?"
••
"Sure were."
••
"Did you catch their names?"
••
"Jean and Marco.. Only, Marco wasn't so bad. It was that jackass-- horse-lookin' boy that left a load of these"
The Mafia leader grunted and gritted his teeth, plunging his hands into his pockets, turning.
I couldn't help but feel.. Outraged. Even though this boy meant trouble, I knew this was beyond a state of mentality; harming and beating an inmate. I grunted and looked down at the shotgun that rested in its holder, beginning to anticipate the worst.
They know the consequences of harming an inmate: they get the same treatment.