Tattoos, body chains, and dark lipstick.
Ina and Amé are two women who rewrite the game.
Follow them into their never ending world.
Written by Ina Seele and Amé Fengári
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She licked her bottom lip. She felt a drop of sweat make its way down her temple.
"I knew one kid couldn't do all this," Ivaan reasoned. "So when my wife decided to take my own men behind my back and try to distract me I thought, 'hm, seems important'."
"I'm sorry?" Ina said, looking at his blue eyes.
"We'll talk about it at home," Ivaan said. In Ina's eyes, Ivaan was so disappointed, it was just so readable and obvious it filled her with shame and embarrassment and guilt. In Amé's eyes, knowing a man who had become a brother to her, and not being under his harsh stare, she saw an underlying layer of lust, knowing Ina had done all this, under his nose, for them. Sure it didn't exactly work smoothly, but he saw her as what she was, a risk taker, a woman who didn't take an L.
"You can't let them kill our nephew," she told Damon. "I know you're some monster or whatever the hell you wanna be but today we've got a baby to protect."
He nodded. "I agree."
She turned her head back to Sandro. Amé was getting nervous. By now Ina should've come up with some way to undo this domino effect, but she was so nervous and ashamed, she couldn't see a thing.
"I say we do this ghetto style," Damon whispered in her ear.
"What's ghetto style?" She asked him, turning her face to her left and seeing him, much closer than she last saw him. She saw more scars, one beneath his protruding jawline, and she wondered how he got that one.
"We protect Idina, and whoever dies, dies."
"But Ivaan and–"
"Does it look like Ivaan is important right now?" He asked her. "I'll tumble Ina out of her horse, you take my gun and protect my back. One, two–"
"I didn't agree to this!" She yelled–
"Three!"
Damon threw her his gun and she started firing at anything with jeans. Ina turned around but right then her body was slammed by another out of her horse, and she screamed, a body laying on top of hers like a shield. Then shots, she heard shots everywhere.
"Run back home," a manly voice whispered in her ear, "protect that baby," and a gun was suddenly put in her hands, and with shaky hands she gripped the hilt and got up on her knees.
Amé had to look away from her sister; reality of the situation hit her when a sharp, burning pain shot up her leg into every extremity in her body. She tumbled off her horse and went behind a tree, looking down where the blood was.
Her leg.
"Great," she hissed, touching it but unable to understand why it hurt so much. It was like her body had been put under this shock, where she felt every nerve be set on fire and burn.
