New Orleans

1. Welcome to New Orleans

This was home.

Staring into the eyes of yet another stone-cold killer, I felt the atmosphere around the pin-drop silent library darken to a bleaker shade of grey. I shouldn't have been surprised that this was happening— a crazed lunatic stalking towards me with a fucking knife, that I was certain had mutilated many a body before trapping me in this depressingly dilapidated building. The filthy goon's mouth curled into an impatient snarl, his large form advancing at double the pace my short legs could retreat. His eye twitched like the rabid animal he resembled. I was certain his proximity alone would expose me to a handful of diseases.

Shooting a glance at my limited exits I considered making a dash for them. Knowing it would only end with a large blade carving into my gut I didn't dare try. The asshole had cornered me astonishingly strategically, shepherding me towards the back of the library. Bastard. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I glared at him. "Nowhere left to run lil' girl..." Little! Was he describing that toothpick he calls a dick? My subconscious snarled at the asshole's audacity- demanding she be treated like the twenty-four-year-old woman she would soon be. "Now be a good little girl and get on your knees." He snorted, pleased by the cheap sexual innuendo attached to his order.

Men— always giving commands as though they have a god given right to supremacy.

My spine grew taller, stiffening in defiance. Tossing the jagged bladed knife into the air, he caught it with an audible slap before it could fall back into his palm. Slicing the blade through the air multiple times he growled. Letting out a wild cry I backed right into a congregation of chairs that had blocked my retreat. Cursing the group of engineering undergrads—who had left them strewed in their panicked escape— I tumbled over the furniture, crashing to the library floor with a painful thud. He stabbed the knife at me, forcing me to back-burner my bruised ass in order to dodge his sloppy attack. "No-don't!" Our audience gasped, letting out a panicked protest; nobody had the courage to step forward. Eyes wide, my heart exerted itself with rapid beats. I would not beg for his mercy, that was damn sure.

Snarling, the bastard scanned me leisurely. The error in judgement I had made seven years ago was the gift that never stopped giving. First heartache, then fear, then betrayal and now fucking death at the hands of this inbred! "Hey dickhead, are you just going to keep staring at me like I'm a piece of meat or are you going to man up and finish what you came here to do?" I scoffed, further wounding his fragile ego.

Tilting his head the bastard traced the outline of my body, with the blade, in the air. "Careful what you wish for lil' girl..." He purred, salivating at the idea of defiling me or my corpse. My fingernails shot up into my palms, I wanted nothing more than to watch the fucker fall on his own blade. Kicking one of the chairs aside, he licked his lips.

Cursing my fate, I searched for anything that could double as a weapon. "I know we're not having a party without me!" My attacker's head snapped up in the direction of the library's entrance. The brief interruption gave me a chance to spot the black Renegade bandana wrapped around his wrist. Fuck. "My ass is the party..." Following the Renegade's line of sight, I watched a familiar face strut into the building. Whistling, Jose— official town gangster and unofficial town jester—barreled towards us. Rolling my eyes, I fought the urge to throttle him. Fucking idiot.

Before the Renegade could switch the blade's trajectory, Jose clocked him square in the nose. The audible crack, preceding the thick stream of blood leaking from the broken orifice, earned a groan of revulsion from the cowering audience. My gaze followed the shimmering silver of the knife's large blade, avoiding it's unforgiving path.

Public gang brawls were a sad reality in this city, no one could escape it. Mostly people— save the cops sporting a hero complex— just pledged their allegiance to the lessor of two evils and had learned to coexist. The Rising Sons were bad but the Renegades were worse. Everyone simply accepted that they were a necessity, because without their protection the Renegade's would have long concurred New Orleans. Despite their questionable methods, The Rising Son's had saved this town. It had become my daily endeavour to keep a healthy distance from all thing's gang related...or one gangster in particular— the one that had opened my world up to lust, darkness and pain.