I let out a heavy sigh as Elara animatedly recounted how sweet Jared had been to her. I know Jared; I trusted him once without a second thought, but now my heart clenched tightly at the image of them together, especially after that stunt he pulled when he kissed her. The mere thought of Elara developing feelings for him twists like a dagger in my chest.
As I wandered into my room, the hum of my phone buzzed insistently, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced down to see a new message from Jared, featuring a screenshot of an ominously cryptic SMS from an unknown number:
"You think you guys are so strong now? The two of you? Very soon, you'll know and pay the price of being overly self-confident."
I quickly typed a response, my fingers racing over the screen as I asked him who this fool was. His reply was just as curious as mine, both of us tangled in a web of uncertainty.
"Empty threats," I thought dismissively, trying to brush aside the chilling feeling that crept up my spine.
Still, we would stand together against whatever was coming. I shoved my phone into my pocket and made my way to the washroom, desperately needing to clear my head. After freshening up, I made my way to the family dining table, the aroma of dinner filling the air. As I sat down, I fought to focus on my meal, but those nagging feelings clawed at me from within, relentless and troubling.
"Damon, you haven't touched your meal," my usually quiet brother, Ezekiel, observed, a hint of concern lacing his voice.
"I just have some things on my mind," I replied, my voice edged with frustration. "Just send a meal to my room."
I stood abruptly, leaving everyone at the table looking puzzled and concerned. I knew I needed space to think, and I had a plan to regain some clarity. I headed straight to my room, feeling the chill of the day still clinging to me. After a brisk, cold shower that invigorated my senses, I dried off and sank onto my bed, scrolling through my phone. A part of me considered hitting the gym to blow off some steam, but I quickly dismissed that thought, deciding to stretch out on the comfortable sheets instead
A sharp, insistent knock broke the silence.
"Open up,"
I commanded, my voice flat.
The door creaked open, revealing a maid holding a silver tray.
"Here's your meal, sir. Please enjoy,"
She said, her voice a practised monotone.
I glanced down at the steaming platter, appreciating my mother's efficiency in the kitchen. A spoonful of the hearty dish filled my mouth—flavours bursting—but a wave of fatigue washed over me, and I set the spoon down, my appetite waning.
My phone buzzed in a harsh, urgent tone. A notification from my friends: a duel, a spectacle of violence, and a summons I couldn't ignore. "Action," I muttered, the word a spark igniting a dormant fire within me.
I slid into the plush leather seat of my car, the engine purring to life, a low growl that echoed my anticipation. The city streets blurred as I sped towards the location, the air thick with tension. As I arrived, the scene unfolded before me: a chaotic ballet of gunfire and frantic movement. The air crackled with the sharp reports of weapons, the acrid scent of gunpowder stinging my nostrils. I positioned my car at a safe distance, its gleaming surface a silent observer amidst the chaos. "This is my favourite car," I murmured, my voice laced with possessive protectiveness, "I don't want shit to happen to it."
The gunshots abruptly ceased, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. "Guess they ran out of armour," I remarked, a sardonic edge to my voice. I strode towards my friends, the ground littered with spent casings and the debris of battle.
"Who's winning?"
I asked, my eyes scanning the aftermath of the brutal encounter.
My friend smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes.
"No one. They're all weaklings."
A surge of adrenaline coursed through me. I drew my gun, the cold steel a familiar comfort in my hand, and fired, the sharp cracks echoing through the stillness, silencing the remaining combatants.
"Woo, I wanted to do that, men,"
My friend exclaimed, his voice laced with bitter resentment.
"They betrayed me and caused the death of my loyal friend, not yours."
"Well, your problem is my problem,"
I retorted, a low chuckle rumbling in my chest.
"How about I show you something interesting?"
I asked, my eyes gleaming with a dark promise.
"Well damn," my friend sighed, a hint of weary resignation in his voice
"This is gonna be a long night,"
He said, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder, the weight of it a silent acknowledgement of the chaos to come. The air was thick with the promise of further violence, the night stretching before us, a canvas painted with blood and betrayal.