Devour You

20

Victoria

My palms are slick with sweat, when my voice was the only sound to break the silence in the crowded lobby just seconds ago.

Members of our gang turn to face me - and I receive some hesitant and disapproving glances. Nearest my firmly stood frame, stands Chris and Liki; watching me observantly, as if I'm up to something they're unaware about.

But I incline my head to either of them, sending an assuring nod, and only hope that they gather the fact that I'm spitting the truth.

I attempt to move past them, but the majority of them try grasping onto my arm, carefully, only for me to send darts with my bold eyes - forcing a release. And as they do, I finally make my way up to the front after pushing through buff figures of our crew, and I stand before the other gang.

My brown irises instantly meet a familiar set of inscrutable brown eyes beneath his black and ruffled hair - as he still vestures his leather jacket, just as I've seen him earlier.

Isaiah, or so he told me before.

His mystifying irises grasp me, as my perspiring hands shake slightly. I pick up the unreadable glimmer in his eyes, as he briefly examines my face.

"She fessed up, bossman." Says a bald man next to him, lifting his gun to point it directly at me. I tense. "I should just blow her head off right now. What do ya say?"

'Bossman' purses his lips - his dark eyes now mischievously twinkling, never removing his gaze from my own.

"Oh she did just dig her own grave, I'll give you that." Isaiah smirks, cryptically. I swallow softly, balling my fist.

I watch Isaiah shake his head, in further response to the aggressive bald guy.

"Nah, I'll wait this one out." He states, and it's barely audible, but I hear him.

From the way Isaiah watches me, searchingly, wonder piles within me as to if he recognizes me - but I know now is not the time to think hard on it.

I don't know the authority Isaiah holds on the boys aligned behind him, but it seems his breath and mine, once I speak, is the only thing to hang in the air.

"We killed one of your own because he stole from one of us. We're even now, OK?"

"But you took back that possession, didn't you?" He returns huskily, folding his muscly arms that the leather clings onto.

He stays in his claimed place, upon his feet, about ten feet from me.

I mentally note the golden gun that's hidden in the rem of my jeans, in case I need to pull it out.

My hand starts to tingle as I feel my fingernails pierce the warm skin of either palm.

"Yes. I took it back." I respond calmly.

In turn, Isaiah sounds a low 'mhm', before his arched brows furrow in my direction. "Then I don't think we're even." He concludes, plastering a slight frown. "Sorry, sweetie."

Instantly, shuffling sounds right by my side, and my attention jolts next to me. Rio, who pushes himself aggressively through our crew, charges toward Isaiah in smooth and quick steps.

But he's stopped, by one of the men on Isaiah's side - shoving Rio to only forcibly hold back his arms. The gangster is struggling against the middle aged man, who captivates Rio's tattooed arms in a firm grip.