Page 5 of Where Angels Fall

“Yes, Boss?” Griff huffs.

I turn my head in search of them, hoping that they might be able to stop whatever disaster is about to happen.

Three men, all covered in tattoos and wearing the same leather vests spread out across the space.

A defeated exhale leaves my lips; the middle one I’m assuming is Boss regards me with a feral smile. His eyes are flared wide, and I’m terrified.

“Griff,” he says again, singsong-like, almost amused, those wild eyes focused on mine. “I think that one might be a little too…breakable for you,” he huffs a little laugh.

The man in front of me takes a step back, grinning at his boss, a growing bulge making his pants stretch. “She walked in here willingly. Maybe she needs a little breaking.”

The boss’s eyes flare even wider as his head tilts. The two others standing behind him take me in as well, their identical faces void of any emotion. Twins.

I feel like I’m in a demented dream and I’m going to wake up back at the restaurant with Malcolm’s dick in my mouth. Did I finally lose the plot? Am I having a breakdown right now?

He walks slowly towards me, boots thumping on the worn wooden floor, his golden face smattered with tattoos as well. Black hair is swept out of his face, and twin dimples surround his plush mouth. This guy is even scarier than the mountain…It’s time for me to go.

I go to stand on shaky feet, ready to flee this nightmare situation, but a large hand pushes my chest so that I fall back onto the stool.

He leans in and midnight blue eyes narrow on mine. “Who sent you?”

“W-who…What?” I ask incredulously, head shaking side to side with wide eyes. “I was just leaving.”

His eyes travel down my body slowly, his tongue playing with his pointed canine tooth, before they flick back to mine. The intensity radiating off him is palpable; danger and untamed savagery sparkle in the stormy depths of his eyes.

My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s bruising my ribs, and still, I can’t move. Terror slicks through me, cold and absolute, but beneath it... something else stirs. Something I don’t recognize. My stomach clenches, my skin prickles, and for the first time in too long, I actually feel alive. It’s terrifying in itself, because I’m used to feeling…not much. But his eyes pin me in place, and I can’t hide inside that safe, empty fog. I hate it. I crave it. I don’t know which frightens me more.

The sound tears through the air before I can even register what he is doing, buttons popping and fabric tearing. My white, silky blouse rips clean down the middle, the fabric hanging uselessly to the side. I gasp, arms shooting up to cover myself. But he is faster, gripping my wrists and pinning them to the sticky bar with one inked hand.

The other pats me down…searching, as I try to wriggle out of his hold. All it does is make his strong fingers wrap tighter around my wrists, pulling a whimper out of my mouth.

“P-please…” I stutter, my chest heaving against the cool air. His tattooed hand sticks out against the crisp white of my shirt, as he hums a curious sound when he doesn’t find anything.

The man straightens, looking down at me with my two hands still bound in his one, regarding me as if I’m something he can’t explain. “Why are you here then, pretty little angel?”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. The bar is now dead quiet, a stark difference to the pounding in my head. My lips part to make words, but when I look at him again, noticing the way his eyes are slightly too wide, the words vanish. He looks half mad, and what can I even say to a half mad…gang leader?

A defeated exhale leaves my lips, as I shake my head softly. “I just needed a drink,” I whisper pathetically. What a night this has turned out to be.

His eyes flick between mine; his silence makes me endlessly nervous, but my eyes refuse to leave his. He is rather pretty, if you can get past the rabid look in his eyes and the predatory smirk that seems permanently etched onto his face. Thick dark lashes and puffy lips, tattoos smattered around his features. A thorny rose creeps up from his jaw to his eyebrow, Hellbent, written in cursive above his eyebrow. He looks to be in his mid-thirties.

Finally, he releases my hands. I pull them against my exposed chest, rubbing the tender skin. His gaze drifts off me for a second as it lands on my half-drunk wine, and my tense body relaxes a fraction.

He lifts it gently in his rough hand, swirling the crimson liquid before bringing it to my trembling lips. My mind races for ways to get out, to make it to my car so I don’t end up as a statistic on the news tomorrow. That’s if they even found me…

But lost in the fear-laced thrill, my lips part as he places the glass between them. As he slowly tips it, the bitter wine flows onto my tongue, his other hand reaches for a loose strand of my hair and rubs it between his fingers, his eyes flicking from my mouth to my hair.

As I swallow the mouthful, he leans in close until his head is just above mine. And he…inhales? He’s sniffing me. As if this moment couldn’t get even weirder, he is sniffing me.

A quiet rumble leaves his throat as he places the glass back down.

“You know, I’ve seen a lot of things in this bar. Blood coating the floors, men being carved up with a smile on their faces…Hell, I’ve even seen a baby being born.” He reaches over and pulls closed my ruined blouse, covering me up. “But you…you’re new.”

Eyes falling closed, I suck in a shivering breath, his taunting voice wrapping around me in the eerie, dark place. “I just thought this was a normal bar. I’m sorry. I just wanted a drink, and I came to the wrong place.”

I feel his warmth as he leans forward and a large finger curls under my chin, lifting my eyes to his. I can barely stand to meet his gaze; the blue of his irises churning like a stormy ocean.

“Liar,” he whispers, his cigarette and mint-scented breath kissing my nose. “You wanna know what I think?”