Gabriel: Prequel

nine

--- Harper's POV

Gabe and I stayed with them for many days, or maybe even a week at this point; since leaving home, time became blurred and I lost count of when it was. I never had time to leave to sort out gang business, as everyday, there would be a new occurrence that would stop me from leaving. Today is no exception either, but  I will leave irregardless - before times run out.

I get out of the sitting position next to Rehan as soon as Gabe enters the room from his shower, his hair slick to his face and his face bleary. 

"You look very hot right now," I smirk, lightly skimming a finger down his tanned arm. His only response is a wide grin on his face as he places a kiss to my lips softly.

"I would look hotter if you had joined me."

"For the love of G-"

I spin on my feet, narrowing my eyes at Rehan, "Leave if we're bothering you so much."

He cocks an eyebrow and reclines further into the sofa, hiding his face behind a book, "Leave my own house, when I'm letting you stay? Sure."

Ass. I shake my head and look back at Gabe, who is no longer there, probably not wanting to be in the middle of our confrontation. For the most part, it was friendly banter between us, but every so often, we quickly became annoyed at each other's presence. Especially, when that ass pulls the "my house" card on me. Frustration swells in my stomach at the sight of him, and I decide to leave to start what I had come here for; I don't bother to say goodbye to anyone as my feet pound the ground more aggressively with each step. 

Navigating the small town is much harder than I first anticipated - especially as gangs usually make it a habit to hide their hideout securely. I go off old knowledge, walking past worn down buildings until I land where I need to be. In front of me, a brothel stands small and square, neon lights in pink illuminating the exterior. Pleasure Seeking. I scrunch up my nose in disgust: how sleazy. I walk in headstrong, holding my breath in so I don't have to smell the rancid stench of whatever it is - probably some body fluid thing. Ew. I stride in confidence until a man around his thirties waves me over, a slow grin over his lips. Like I said before, ew. 

"Your arrival is later than expected," he drawls, leaning against his chair as he glances at the centre stage. I take a swift seat on the other side, following his glance. Unsurprisingly, I follow his gaze to women standing in barely nothing, arching their backs for the countless men here to stare at. Other women, some barely older than sixteen, stand at the corners around their men, lowering down far enough for them to have a free sample. Fucking perverts; I knew coming here would anger me, but even after all this time, I thought I wouldn't care as much. But, I'm so wrong. Seeing him closer up repels me: he isn't the obvious, gross type to visit here, but the well-groomed type. Even worse.

"You weren't high on my list of priorities, I hope you understand." Diplomatic negotiation is very key, even if I do want to castrate him.

He laughs, pulling his chair in eagerly. "The infamous temper of yours, how refreshing. It is quite charming."

"I didn't come here for pleasantries, I came to do my job. Let's get on with it," I mutter, pouring myself a glass of whiskey. A woman, no- a child, probably sixteen, sways over, bending down near the man, her lack of clothes exposing her body. He drinks the sight of her in, murmuring something in her ear, and despite her exterior being seductive, her eyes have no spark. It comes as nothing new, though: all of the women here have, no doubt, come from broken lives and this is their only hope. Red, harsh blinking lights cast over the room, pulling distant memories into my mind. I try to shake them off, but the scorn of my past weaves its way around my heart.

"I like feisty, you know. It's quite," he leans further to me, a wicked look in his eye, "sexy." The girl straightens her back, flashing me a look and leaving until it's just us again.

"If you, for one minute, can just keep your dick in your pants until we finish, then we can get this done with and you'll have your shit," I seethe, clenching my fists.

He throws his head back, taking a long look at me, head to toe. The hairs on my arm stand up straight and I will myself not to throw the burning liquid in his eye. I opt to drink it, hoping the burn down my throat will quench my anger. "If you're not into this, then why are you dressed in a large shirt, with a small jacket and boots? You came to me, with this outfit, and expect me not to admire your curves that please all parts of me."

Bile rises in my throat and I slam down the glass. "Say one more thing and I will break this glass against your throat until blood drips down."

He shrugs and smiles, waving his hand to indicate I should get down to business. Pervert.

"Word is that your people have samples of new drugs. You're unfairly taking it, threatening the treaty between all of us. Give me some samples, I'll take them back, and then we're sorted."

"Am I not entitled to have samples?"

"Of course you are; you're not entitled to being a selfish fuck, however," I say curtly, taking another sip.

"I've been real nice with your temper tantrums so far," he says evenly, raking his hand through his thick, blonde hair, "give me any more shit, and I will have you bent over this table, begging me to give you another chance, little whore."

Rationality escapes my mind, and the past erodes my conscience. "I'll make you wish you were sucking me off, little whore." Red lights scatter in my mind and my legs turn weak. My fingers shake as they near the glass, my heart pounding so much, that the thud blocks my ears. I grasp the glass, my grip so tight that the glass should've crushed, and bring it up, smashing it against the table. Picking up a stray shard, my hand pierces it into his direction, met with his hand as he brings it up to defend. After seeing blood drip on to the table, I release a shaky breath, standing up and backing away. He groans in pain, locking me into an angry gaze, standing up, also.

"Stupid whore; do you think your members will be happy with you now, knowing you're the one responsible for what's coming next?"

I stay stoic, refusing to let him see me tremble under his rage. I messed up. 

"You're going to pay the price soon enough, then let's see what you'll say." 

I don't listen to anymore, instead, running out the building past all the women until I'm outside, where the fresh air pinches me. The realisation of what I've done consumes me and I kneel on the ground, throwing up. I will not cry for him, however. I refuse. But, the price I need to pay daunts me.