Iris Giorgianni is no ordinary girl. She's living a double life: a neglected daughter at home, but a fighter on the streets. As the leader of The Sangue - one of the most wanted and well-known gangs in London - Iris has a reputation to uphold. Only...
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"We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools."
- Martin Luther King Jr.
"WHAT THE...?" Wrench's mouth was wide open, his eyes flashing in shock as he stared at the group in front of him.
Stepping out of the lift in two quick strides, the skinhead pushed him, hard. "Oh, you have some nerve, showing up here."
"Hey, hey!" Ember pushed him back. "What the fuck is going on?"
"Your little boyfriend here is the biggest prick back in the UK, that's what's going on." The boy with the split lip spat angrily. "Did you know he's killed people before? One of our guys pretty recently, too."
"Yeah, I pretty much knew that." Ember shrugged. "And?"
"I didn't kill that Davis guy." Wrench stepped back. It was clear that the history between the group and Wrench was a long, hate-fueled one: they seemed to parallel each other, their bodies opposing forces in a battle of rage. "I'm not even in the Mongrels anymore. Leave it out."
"Oh, fuck off. I'm really, really not in the mood for your shit." The skinhead drew something out of his pocket, revealing a long, shiny knife.
"Hang on. Just- just wait a minute." Wrench held his hands up in surrender. His tattoos peeked out from beneath his jumper, revealing several dark black symbols on his wrist. "Why are you here?"
"Trying to help Iris, which you've probably had something to do with." The skinhead inched closer. "We know you were at that stupid camp with her."
"You know Iris?" Ember and Levi practically yelled in unison.
"Yes..." The pale boy frowned, confused. "Sorry, who are you?"
"We're her friends." Ember spluttered, trying to get the words out as quickly as she could. "We know her. We're trying to help her, too."
The tall one put a hand on the skinhead's shoulder, as if to stop him from slitting Wrench's throat. "Wait. Is one of you Levi?"
"Yeah." Levi stepped forward, clearing his throat. How did they know Iris? How did they even know who he was? "Yeah, that's me."
"Well damn." The skinhead replied, pocketing his knife. All eyes were drawn to Levi, looks of respect on their faces.
"I'm Rylan." The tall guy with the afro said, stepping forward and introducing the skinhead as Leon, the pale, scarred boy as Scab and the boy with the split lip as Rex. "We're from Iris' gang. The Sangue."
Leon started chuckling to himself, gaining a glare from Rylan.
"What?" Rylan snapped.
Leon grinned, nudging Scab as if he'd laugh with him. "That rhymed."
