'Rubies are red.
Sapphires are blue.
Beware of the Ruby women, they will ruin you.'
*
The Rubys are notorious for their beauty, wealth and power. When beautiful and successful Chevelle Ruby is...
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Monday | 11:52 p.m.
Loud, frantic footsteps hammered onto the dirty pavement, panicked and terrified.
The night couldn't be any darker: the moon overcast by ragged gray clouds, and a handful of flickering street lamps did not serve any justice, only casting shadowy figures on the vacant road. Despite only being able to see a few feet ahead, a man raced past, abandoned warehouses blurring past in his speed.
"Come on, Leon," he gritted his teeth hard as sweat dripped down the nape of his neck in spite of the chilly weather. He reassured himself that he was familiar with the area — rows after rows of stacked container boxes — that he could outsmart whoever was chasing him and get to safety.
He had no idea who the hell was after him, and he wasn't going to stop to find out. Today was supposed to be a typical Monday night at his inconspicuous spot with his two buddies, Jimmy and Rick, boozing away their anger — or for the other two idiots — luck, on last night's event. The huge, bluish bruise he was sporting on his jaw was a painful reminder of what had happened ⏤ a degrading blow to his reputation, although in Jimmy and Rick's words, a miracle that he got away alive from the gray-eyed devil.
Leon clenched his jaw as the name flitted past his mind. Kaden King. That bastard ruined his golden chance to get the living, walking, money bag of a Ruby, which even exceeded the value T.J Sanders owed to him. "Prick," he muttered angrily, before dashing into a narrow alley between two towering stacks of metal boxes.
His calves burned from the overexertion, and he was glad he wasn't drunk. The initial daze incurred from the booze he had consumed earlier had long been dissipated to be replaced by panicked alert and pumping adrenaline.
He had only been at his second bottle of alcohol when the sound of rattling outside their makeshift office caught their attention, followed by crates falling over. When Rick didn't return after a good five minutes to go check out whatever pest was causing the commotion, he had forced Jimmy to head after Rick, to make sure the idiot wasn't pass out drunk outside.
Muttering a few unholy curses, Jimmy had dragged himself up from his spot on the couch and staggered towards the door. "That little bitch can't even take care of a fucking rat," he had mumbled angrily and swung the door open. And immediately, his body had crumpled limply onto the ground, a hand clutched around his neck.
Leon's eyes had widened in horror and his gaze fell onto the silhouette of a man right outside the door, smoke whiffing out from the unmistakable gun in his hand. Wasting no time, he had shot out of his seat and bolted straight outside from the backdoor of the office.
It had been the longest two minutes Leon ever endured as he ran for his life, his mind raking through a long list of possible people who wanted him dead. Unsurprisingly, he came up blank. In his line of work, enemies were bound to be made: those who owed him money, those he owed money, those he roughed up, those who just wanted to see him dead — the list could go on forever.
