ambition // cazzie (REWRITING 7-11)

four

Casey's POV

"What the fuck, what the fuck- what the fuck?"

I pressed a hand to my forehead as Sharice paced the small room we were standing in, repeatedly checking the clock.

"Casey, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you know what you just did?"

"It's not that bad-"

"Not that bad? Oh my God, you have a death wish." Sharice leaned against the table behind her, staring at me all the while. "You just accepted to fight Izzie from Clayton. We had that whole talk about that mafia a few months back; we know how strong they are."

"So? I'm just going up against one person. If things go south, that's fine. I just don't want to back down." I reply, shaking my head in Sharice's direction. "I assure you, I'm gonna win. I'm sure."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

——

It was around 7:45 PM. The air was cold, making the harsh wind that passed through almost unbearable. The best thing I could find was one of Evan's sweatshirts; I needed something flexible.

I shouldn't be nervous, but I was anyway. I'm only two years into being a mob boss and I've already picked a fight with the biggest mafia? That was a terrible decision; I wanted to seem tough.

Maybe I was jealous of her power?

I was leaning against the brick wall that lined the back of the Hub, flipping the pocketknife that I carried between my fingers. The tip of the knife would sometimes nick my fingertips, but it didn't matter. My adrenaline numbed the pain.

7:50. 10 more minutes.

I guess Izzie wanted to come here right on the dot, or she's somewhere nearby. Honestly, she's probably organizing a group of people to jump me in the middle of this fight.

That sounded like her.

I blanked out for a few minutes, staring at my boots. That gave me time to think about the whole situation. What if I did lose? What would happen then? I didn't know if it was a fight to the death, but it sure as hell seemed like one.

I kept flipping the knife in my hand, gritting my teeth.

Why the fuck did I do that?

How fucking dumb am I?

I'm so fucking-

"Newton."

My hand quickly grasped the knife and a spark of pain shot from my hand to my arm, but I looked up nonetheless. It was none other than Izzie, standing a few feet away from me. It seemed like no one followed her here, so that was a good sign. But I wasn't certain.

Izzie stares at me for a moment before her eyes flicked downwards, raising her brows.

"You're, uh... gripping the sharp part of your knife."