Devour You

16

Victoria

The cold glass was cool and smooth between my fingers, as the tequila kept pouring when I gestured for it. I remember I needed it, as much as I could get - the alcohol was giving; always there in my glass.

His laugh echoed upon the empty glass in his grip, I must've said something that amused him. But I remember how it sounded - and the way he smirked when I tried to search his friendly irises.

He was just a delivery guy...

How could he be involved in a gang?

But, here am I... I was just a nurse.

The metal is intoxicatingly warm, in my grasp. I glance down at the golden gun I hold tightly - my heart brutally pounding against my ribcage as I try to seem at ease around the others.

Flicking my brown irises up again, I scan across them. First and foremost, the gangster is leaning over to bring out a pistol from another black duffle bag, as Chris lends him the ammo.

And the four women that came; two scrub clean the outer surface of their own guns, as the other two seem to be in deep conversation with some of the men - only mere seriousness crossing their faces.

As for I, stand in the center of the neat, yet busy hotel room - my gun still in hand. I take in a calm breath, but my pulse is rapid.

"Sweetheart." Rio's husky tone alerts me, and I glance over my shoulder to meet his gaze.

"Hm?" I sound, watching him lick his full lips for moisture a moment - before he starts walking toward me.

Don't tense, don't tense - or show any portray of nervousness or...shock...from what occurred out in the hall.

The gangster's brows furrow, as his blazing brown irises near me, deliberately. I want him to stop in his tracks, but he doesn't. He sends me a curious striking once over. I swallow, turning to face him.

"Something wrong?" He questions, within a low whisper. Rio's taller frame now hovers, close. I don't flutter my careful eyes from his own observant pair.

In return, I shake my head slowly. "I..." A sigh escapes my pink lips. "I just know now that this is really happening." I breathe a persuasive humorless laugh; watching the gangster's lips twitch.

I watch him search my eyes, pursing his luscious lips, before bringing up a finger of his to gently caress my cheek. At his touch, my breathing seems to increase - but it's low enough, quiet.

Part of what I said is the truth though, that I know for sure this happening; the guns, the approach. They're here, and they're right beside us.

What if they can hear every heavy breath we take? Or how long can we continue whispering before their curiosity develops as to who is staying beside them?

What if Isaiah knows my connection with Rio and our gang, who I really am, and knew the truth all along?

What if I'm the one to pull the trigger if a gun is aimed at him, because he's with them, right?

My mere glossy eyes blink profusely, onto the deep irises of the gangster - who now watches me warily. I clench my jaw, and tighten my grip on the golden gun, before stepping back.

My step results in space between us, a distasteful proximity. I lick my lips, turning to walk away, and leave the gangster's taller figure standing. I pace into the bathroom, accidentally slamming the door shut behind me.