Blood In the Water

chapter three

"Better Off Alone."

When James thinks of loyalty he doesn't think of blindness. Not a deafness, or devotion to a meaningless cult. Not a call for faith and for his gang to die at his feet while defending his name. But he doesn't know what kind of spineless man could rat out his family. So he waited, like a predator would, ready to sink his teeth into the weasel the moment that it arrived. A well deserved end for a traitor, he thought. James bounced his leg as he sat hunched over in a chair, and blew out small lines of smoke from his cigarette. Anticipating the very moment.

After all, they'd been through. How? He couldn't understand it. How could Alfonzo do such a thing and kill the man that took him— took all of them off the streets? Henry was no saint, in fact he was about as far from it as a man could get, but Henry still had a good heart. He was a mentor, a leader, and a brother to James— and if Alfonzo was really at fault for his death, there was no doubt in his mind that James would avenge him.

He'd avenge Alexander and Diego too. They deserved it as well. It was the best he could do since there was no way in hell to have a proper burial for the fallen men.

James leaned back, feeling the cracking of his spine from the change in pressure. Closing his eyes momentarily and blowing out more smoke. Peeking to watch it disappear into the pale sky. If only all of his problems could fade away like that. Life would be so much easier.

"They're back!"

The unnamed voice tore through his silence.

He turned his head around quick enough to almost drop the cigarette from his lips. Brown eyes scanning the territory around him. The familiar expectancy prickled his skin and reignited his fiery anger. James stood up and spat out his nicotine. Not even bothering to crush it under his boot before he marched to the tree-line, seeing the two steeds as they entered the camp. Alfonzo was riding neither.

"Where is that bastard?" He yelled out, not yet close enough to the girls and not yet calm enough to speak in a normal tone.

Emotions always pooled off James, like the smell of tobacco of his lips. His senses to strong to be contained. "Not in Bristol, found Sparky over in Hartsfield" Eleanor answered referring to Alfonzo's horse. She cleared her throat before she turned to the young girl to her left. "Chelsea, why don't you tie up the horses... please?" Eleanor asked, getting off of her own horse as she spoke.

James watched how Chelsea spoke not a word, but followed directions immediately. He didn't have enough time to question Chelsea's newfound obedience, but the thought did linger. How in two days time had Eleanor had tamed a being such as the broken child? It would come into discussion later.

Hartsfield though, that part stuck out too, if they went there instead of Bristol it made sense how they were back so soon. Since the much smaller town was a little closer than the city of Bristol. It didn't seem like a place Alfonzo would go, voluntarily at least.

"You did good job riding, girlie," Eleanor complemented as the red-headed child stepped off Alfonzo's Arabian. Chelsea paused, analyzing Eleanor's words as if they caught her off guard. The young girl gave a nod and grabbed the reigns of the steeds, one in each hand, leading them off to the other horses without a word of thanks being spoken. Eleanor sighed.

There was a small moment of silence until Chelsea was out of earshot.

"The hell was that rat doing in Hartsfield, Eleanor?" James finally asked, a demanding tone infecting his words. Making them come out harsher than intended.