One Word | H.S.

Chapter Forty-Seven

- The Cheshire Cat.

And this, my friends, is what we have been waiting for.

~

Pretty Boy's POV

~

Levi.

~

I'm not really sure what the fuck is going on, but everyone's on thin ice.

Cade appears as though he's about to flip every glass table in sight, jaw tightening to later be loosened as his hands are white-knuckled. Mary's on the verge of mental explosion, eyes wider than the Atlantic ocean with unsettled fear, confusion.

And Red, she's watchin' the fucking movie with zero cares.

Her gaze has been glued to the timid screen for the past twenty minutes, unfazed by the bellowed screaming and under-the-breath curses being spilt in the kitchen.

But, the screen is completely frozen. It's stuck on the dumbass Cheshire Cat, all purple and stuff, while there's nothing worth watching, or directing any energy towards.

My body is leant against the wall, fingers fiddling with the annoying rings that I'm tired of wearing, as I mentally decide who I'll be shooting. "The fuck is he doin' burnin' down his own fuckin' club?" Cade whispers under his gritted breath, his anxiety heightening my hit-list.

Mary's eyes keep switching from the Blonde Fuck to Red, desperate to keep this conversation hushed as she's actually semi-okay. "Could it be Jensen? Like, he could be tryin' to get out or something." She attempts to reason, both sounding like absolute idiots.

Personally, I have no idea who decided to burn down Sugar's. Not a fucking clue, but I'm not voicing my insight, Jesus.

And besides, we're having this cryptic exchange with the ruby dream sat upon the springless couch. Not even trying to be quiet, but Red looks like she's sleeping with her damn eyes open.

"What did Ryder say?" I nod my chin towards Mary, knowing that the only normal one in our group stays under the radar, letting nobody know about his pile of secrecy. "He told you about it, right?" They both nod feverishly, though Cade should just walk away.

Ryder, the master of all deluxe poisons. Pouring the token arsenic into the glistening liquid, flashing the brightened smile of deception with a splash of sprite.

Taking out the corrupt with the disrupted mixture of the devilish gods, he's been rather helpful over the years. He was there the night I fucked up, him and Cade doing everything in their power to assess the situation.

But, they couldn't.

He's a conman, the best I've ever seen. Playing both sides as though he's created the rules of the game, pushing his player forward as everyone's been two steps behind.

Though, I have an underlying suspicion about the guy, questioning his behavior as trusting is an interesting concept. Always tensing up when the night gets brought up, switching the subject as he walks the line of oblivion, tense mystery.

I'm always paranoid, but that's the tragic aftermath of making the regretful mistake that I'll never be able to take back.

If I have to push away Red as a result, the heated conversation leading to such a horrible conclusion, then I won't even hesitate.

She's everything I've never wanted, yet she's singlehandedly held every beating putter of my heart in the gem of her palm. Seeing me in the light I've attempted to dim, Red is the mischievous cure my sickened mind has always craved.