diamond //sweet pea//

/seven/

Dallas' eyes scanned the screen in the dark of her car, going over every word of the email she had sent out. She was hoping she would have a reply within the hour, but even getting a reply at all was a long shot. She leaned back, throwing the phone in the passenger seat. She huffed, deciding that it would have to wait until later. She had other things to deal with it.

Dallas threw open the door, the gravel cracking under her boots. She shivered, attempting to pull her hood tighter around her face. Tent City wasn't her favorite place, but it was the safest bet when trying to find Sweet Pea.

"Hey there little bird."

Dallas' head snapped upwards, her stomach lurching. Her eyes narrowed at the boy who towered over her, "What are you doing here Trey? Both predators and trespassers will be shot on site"

He scoffed, rolling his soul sucking eyes. "You know, it's that attitude that gets you in trouble."

Dallas clenched her jaw, her fists balling in her pockets, "Why are you here?" she repeated.

"Don't know if you've heard, but ever since your pain in the ass brother booted me out of the Serpents, I've had to find other means. Funnily enough, my savior was also your brother. You're familiar with the Ghoulies, right Little Bird?"

Dallas' palms began to sweat. Her eyes flicked over his body and sure enough, the skull tattoo that made bile rise in the back of her throat rested on his neck. "I've heard of them," she spoke in a low tone, teeth clenched.

"Well, I've been employed by Malachai himself, he says you two have unfinished business. He's offering a deal. You go meet him willingly, and he'll remove his guys from the Gargoyle Gang. You put up a fight, he'll send someone, hopefully me, to come and collect you."

Dallas looked behind her, convinced she had stumbled into a trap, but it was quiet. "I want to meet in a location of my choosing, and he has to leave me alone after this. No more contact."

"I'll let him know. He'll be in touch. Stay sweet Little Bird," Trey winked, and Dallas  fought the urge to punch him, but knew that it would only ensure a fate worse then death.

Trey waltzed off, seemingly to no where. Her heart beat quickened. She fished around for her phone, remembering that it was still in the passenger seat of her car. She hurried to her car, locking the doors behind her.

Her phone was a glow, but not with a returned email. She sighed, and tossed it once again away from her. She rested her head back, feeling the weight of the world settle onto her shoulders, a haunting notion. It was all too reminiscent of an earlier, distant, yet not forgotten time. Her abdomen ached at the thought of it, her head throbbing. She craved a distraction, anything would do at this point.

She forced the car into drive and tore away, the gravel flying from her tires. She was hoping that she'd get a text that would tell her where to go; what to do. But it never came. So she drove aimlessly until a beacon in the dark appeared in her headlights. It was almost angelic the way it called to her. She pulled up and got herself inside, sitting in a back corner, downing a few coffees back. Dallas has long stopped caring about the way people looked at her. The shifty eyes were locked in on her, but she had been graced with the gift to ignore them.

The bell jingled and in walked a tall, dark and handsome boy, his friends in tow. Dallas smiled at the way he walked, the way his hands moved too much when he talked. She figured she'd let him be, for the time being at least.

Finally she gave up fighting the sleep and decided it was time for her to bow out. She got up, tucking her head into her hood, slipping quickly out the door.

Dallas fumbled with the key, a hand pressed up on the side of her onto the car. Her breathing hitched, fearful that one of the Ghoulies was making an earlier than appreciated appearance.

"You've been watching me."

The voice was familiar and warm. The quick phrase triggered a memory from what seemed like a million years ago. She flipped around a smile growing.

"How'd you know I was here?" She asked.

"The car. And I saw you and your hair in the back corner," Sweet Pea confessed.

"Should've figured," Dallas laughed. She wrapped her arms around his middle, and held him close to her. He smelled like smoke and cologne and it made her dizzy. "I was trying to find you," she admitted allowing him to completely engulf her.

Sweet Pea easily sensed the tension she held in her body. He so desperately wanted to rid her of it, but knew he was usually a contributor to her stress. "What's going on doll face?"

Dallas sighed, fighting back angry tears. It was as if it was all about to start again. "I think I'm in trouble," she whimpered into his damp T-shirt. Sweet Pea smoothed her hair, his fingers curling into the blonde waves.

"Tell me who I need have a talk with and I'll do it," he spoke calmly into the open air.

"I think Malachai's back, and he's not gonna take no for an answer." Dallas pulled away from her boyfriend and flicked a single tear off her cheek. "Trey is working for him now, he was at Tent City tonight. It's like he knew it'd be empty and I'd be there."

His jaw clenched. He was officially tried of hearing Malachai's name. Trey was also a name he never wanted to hear again. It took every ounce of self control to not storm into their headquarters and start bashing heads in. Instead he kissed her forehead, "we'll figure something out Dal, we always do."

Somehow this was comforting to Dallas. He was right. Through all the bullshit the two of them had gone through, they always made it out on the right side of things. Luck; they had a lot of it. Dallas smiles up at him, simultaneously love and dumbstruck. He was hers and hers alone and that was enough.

"Aren't you glad?" He asked, reciprocating her smile.

Her brows furrowed, "Glad about what?"

"Glad that you got to know me?" He asked, resuming their first real conversation they had ever had.

"I think so," Dallas hummed. He grinned, swooping down to press his lips to hers. It was beautiful to reminisce on old times, but danger was never too far away.

Hidden in the seams of Dallas' car seats, a phone vibrated with the incoming of a message. A Mr. T. J. Wiley was formally requesting a meeting with a certain Dallas Wiley Jones.