WARNING 17+ - nothing graphic, just themes

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...

Violet Warrendale

...

"Jesus, Vi." He rasps, and I grab the counter because the hunger in his voice is nearly enough to make me change my mind and join him.

Pull it together.

I twist the tap and run my thumb over the toothbrush, washing my mouth before I splash my face with the cold water. "You were leaving the walls." I stand up, so my face is in the mirror, but I keep my gaze on my knuckles which grip the counter, "You're a hypocrite." Can he see my pink cheeks?

It's like his resolve snaps. "I was leaving the walls for a different fücking reason, I was leaving under Akimitsu's orders, not because I was some reckless brat who wanted to rip her daddy a new one."

I wrinkle my nose at his nasty accusation, "Reckless brat," I quote, "are you serious? Because last I checked, I never got caught. Last I checked, I've done a hell of a lot more to try and get out of here than you." I look up, glad the reflection cuts everything beneath his navel off.

"You nearly got yourself shot in the fücking process!" He barks, twisting the taps before roughing his hair out, "You resisted Wilkes, fückin' called his bluff when he was gon' pop you in the back of the head."

I imagine when Wilkes shoved his boot on my face as I kicked and spat or when he knocked me to my knees and rammed his gun to the back of my head. I wanted him to do it for a second. I didn't want to think about mum anymore.

"I didn't mean to call his bluff." I try to defend, but he squints in dismay.

"You," He chokes when he realises what I mean, but then his outrage triples, "Is that why you pulled the fückin' gun? With three Sergeants holdin' MGs at your head!" He explodes, grabbing the towel before he wraps it around his waist. "What the fück were you thinking Vi? Tryna get shot?"

I was thinking about when the bastard said he would rip my guts up like he did to my mother. I turn on him, "He was sayin' shīt in my ear," I croak, "I had to."

Water trickles down his jaw and along the ridges of his collarbone, but I don't let myself follow it. He glowers down at me, "You're reckless, you made yourself a target. Your daddy isn't here to bail you out no more. This isn't Lake Darling, an' fuck me if I'm skeptic cause you won' even fess to who the fuck is willing to pay 60k to get you out of here-."

My resolve shatters, and I shove his steaming chest, "No! Reid, this isn't Lake Darling! This is a sick fücking baby factory!"

"But you knew!" He accuses. "You knew they were going to take us! All this bullshit with your father, acting like you're innocent of it!" Reid towers over me, but I hold my ground, glowering up at him even when tears brim my eyes, my mind racing faster than I can bear. 

"I don' think you fucking understand! I would give everything to go back and change that night—." I cut myself off with a sharp inhale, hating when images of Mal attacking me flickers in my head. I should've let Elias beat him to a pulp so he couldn't follow me. I never should've left myself in that position... I never should've gone home to get my gun. I could've saved mum.

"What?" His rage lapses when tears start running down my cheeks, "Vi, I don'—." I storm past him, wiping my face, but he grabs my wrist.

I cover my overwhelm with rage, "I, do not, know anything!" I snap, "And I've had enough of you looking at me like I'm in here on purpose! I don' know why you can't get that through your thick fucking skull!"

He curls his lip but I interrupt him.

"Scorpius and I hit Crippy's tent, we were leaving the city but we hit big so," I gesture broadly, scratching that explanation when I realise it'll lead to more questions. Hit big? I can't tell him about the amount of guns we stole. "Cunt I cannot, explain, how much I regret the decision to stay." I start crying. I hadn't even realised the magnitude of my guilt. I hadn't even realised how much I blame myself for being home. My intuition was telling me to get out, but I was so damn selfish that I had to see Elias. "I should've-. Fuck me I should've taken Scor with me, knocked on E's door and said goodbye then and there instead of waiting around for that fuck-ass party." I cuss myself for letting him see me so vulnerable.

"Why? Cause of your dad?" He balks, though his rage seems to have dissolved into outright concern, or confusion.

"No," I snap, "Yes. Because, of, because of fucking Cola, an' the drugs, an'." I shake my head, hating when my hysterics try to dial up, however I restrain the real rush of tears that want to follow. "Because when I left, Mal grabbed me, put a fuckin' whip-it mask on my mouth. But with all that shit in my system I decided to go home an' get my gun," I skip explaining, knowing it's just going to turn into a long winded confession about how my mother ended up with a stomach full of led. "I was trying to get clean of that damn place but dad and I got into it, so mum fucking lost her shit." With tears streaming down my face, I imagine when she tackled me in defence of her husband, and obscurely, perversely, a laugh escapes me. "You saw my fucking neck." How is that an endearing memory? She choked me out, and I wan' cry for love of her... but, but the only thing left to love about my mother by the end was that no matter how damn insane she got, or how much she hated me, she always adored dad. Not even mania could corrupt it.
I realise, vaguely, that his confusion has turned into guilt, but I know if he so much as utters a single hint of sympathy I'll lose my shit.

"Don' fuckin' look at me like that," I demand, but when he opens his mouth to ask something I shake my head. "I don' even know what I'm saying no more, Reid. Jus' don' get it fuckin' twisted, I have known since I was a kid that my father is not a failsafe if shīt blows up in my face. The Ghouls are long dead to me so don' fücking condescend to call me their goddamn princess. An' don' front like you actually believe I'm in here for a bigger reason than... I don't fucking know. Bad karma." I slam the bathroom door in his face.

...

I nearly jump ten-foot-high when Reid pushes himself off the bed, half of his muscular chest catching a patch of moonlight as he lowers himself to the ground in front of me. Half his face remains hidden by shadow, making it impossible to glean his intentions.

He sits away from me to put physical distance between us, like I'm an unpredictable horse that he wants to coax into trust.

"I'm sorry... For all of it, not just today, but the last three weeks I've been antagonising you." He rasps, the muscle in his cheek flagging, "Hope has always been good to me, so when I said that shit about the drugs it tasted bitter the second it left my mouth. I'm sorry. It's no excuse but I go mad when people lock me up, and it's fücking with my head that I have no idea how to find Bloom." He rubs his face, uncomfortable with what he's about to admit. "I've never been good at trusting people, but I used that as an excuse to blame you for all of this because I honestly don' know what the truth is anymore. I hate when I can't figure a problem out. I'm not trying to justify it. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, and I shouldn't have got in your face. It was an abuse of my power."

"Power?" I snap, and he grimaces.

"Fück, that sounded-." To my utter surprise, he cuts himself off, and his cheeks flush like a little kid. "I didn't mean like that; Bloom always says that because I'm bigger than her and meaner than her, it's worse if I raise my voice." He nearly squirms in embarrassment, but a little smile quirks my lips. Is he nervous?

It sounds crazy, but I didn't think he could get nervous. So I antagonise him, "You think I couldn't take you in a fight?"

He opens his mouth, then squints, "That's the point. I could knock you on your äss. I fuckin' man-handled you over some damn grit cleaner, then tried to scare you into backing off instead of just admitting I was wrong and that's why I'm sorry... because, because I hate men like that." His masculine features harden, and I know he's thinking of men like his mother's boyfriends, or Kade, my father, Tokyo... Mal.

My jaw slackens slightly, but when I realise I look as surprised as a dumb fawn, I swallow. I've never heard someone apologise before. Not like that, at least. Does Reid mean it?

I narrow my eyes, my heart twisting. The sincerity in Reid's voice makes me guilty, and I glance away. I wasn't exactly a saint, either, and I also haven't given him any reasons to trust me. But what about the... the other stuff? "You don' care about the rest?"

"No. I get it." He shakes his head smoothly, utterly unaffected by my callous rejection... it makes me question if he even wanted anything to happen? It pinches me when I realise that maybe I was blowing it all out of proportion in my head. I was the only one strung out so bad.

"I was also trying to piss you off, and I talked just as bad... so I'm sorry too." My skin prickles, and I wrap my arms around my shins so I can pick at the elastic cuffs of my trackies, needing to occupy my hands.

Reid grits his jaw again, "I didn't mean to force it out of you like that but I'm glad you told me."

I told him snippets of facts... was that seriously all he needed to hear to eliminate his doubts about me? Maybe we can just mend bridges enough to meet in the middle.

"Says you." I resist the urge to pick another fight, and for once, I tell myself that he's not the enemy, "keeping secrets don' help in making someone trust you." My voice softens and his lips tug into the ghost of a smile, but we fall silent for a long moment. I gaze at him, assessing his attentive eyes, his relaxed hands, the steady rise and fall of his broad chest. Mutely, I realise that aside from my knee jerk reaction, a warm sense of calm has surrounded me. "So I been fuckin' up just as bad." I admit, still holding his gaze. His grey-green eyes are like white opals in this light.

"You wan' me to trust you?" His deep voice lulls like he's unsure if he should be smug or amused.

I bite my lip, choosing how to respond, and Reid's gaze dips. My heart thuds, and I watch as he lazes over my face like he's trying to trace my features back up to my eye-line. "I figure I've gotta try make good given..." I nearly lose track of what I was gon' say, but then a pinch of anxiety follows when I regain my mental path, "Given how hectic shit is gon' get once we're out." But, of course, admitting that I wan' make friends with him leaves me with a plethora of vulnerabilities...

I can see his mind following that track of questioning, arriving on the answer that as a group of fugitives, it'll be extremely difficult to avoid the army if we're constantly at odds. If this escape shit even happens, we're gon' be in for a gnarly ride until we can sort out new identity papers.

We go quiet for a long stretch of time.

Myers decides to skip the hard talk, sighing slightly as he leans back into the mattress, casting his gaze up slightly. "Fuck," He mutters, "Friends with Violet Warrendale. Fifteen-year-old me would kick my äss." The tired rasp in his voice makes a chill run down my back and I silently bounce my brows in enjoyment. Fück, I could listen to him forever.

Following his lead on skirting around a real topic, I play along, "I don' get why fifteen-year-old you hated me so much." I was scared of him when we were kids so I avoided him like the plague.

He scratches his ribs absently and his sculpted bicep catches the patch of light. "I was immature, thought you and Tokyo were spoilt so I was jealous." He pauses when I open my mouth to argue, remarking, "I never took it out on Tokyo though..."

"Yeah, you prick." I mumble, satisfied that he can at least admit it, "I was a shy little kid and you tormented me." We avoid the topic of Kade and his home.

"Shy little kid? More like bītchy and stand-offish... not much different from now," He looks at me with a spark of cheek.

"Cap."

"Don' lie. I like the attitude anyway," He admits and my brows loosen in surprise, though I catch when the sides of his lips tug, "You didn't like me from the start. I just played along."

That's kind of like what Thai said. That I thought I was playing defence, but he thinks I'm the one looking down on him.

I chew my lip, trying to explain myself, "You remember when you and Tokyo were like, nine? And you gave him a blood nose?"

He crinkles his eyes, unable to place it.

"I thought you were bad for him, so I, decided I didn't like you." I scratch my hand lightly, hating the corny admission.

"Damn. Hell of a grudge to make for a six-year-old." He looks down, "I guess thinking you were a snob was only half of it."

The intrigue that overtakes me is almost comical. "Why else?"

"It really pissed me off that you only talked to Elias and Benji." He admits.

I grin, smug married, "So, you were jealous?"

"No, I..." He scratches his head, "Shīt I never thought of it like that... I thought you were too stuck up to talk to a dock-side piece of scum like me."

"I didn't talk to you because Cola liked you." I admit but he arches a confused eyebrow at me. "Girl code."

He laughs, and I smile, "fück, that feels like a lifetime ago." He has a nice laugh.

"Yeah... I haven't thought of Benji since Scorpius and I scaled Moaners-Tilt the night before the Cruella," my smile slips, and my heart clenches at the memory.

"You scaled the wreck?" His features dim like he's seen a ghost.

"Yeah, we had this spot on the Sofitel roof so we always used the wreck to get to the top. Just hopped the gap to get across." I explain, but Reid shivers, which strikes me as the closest he's ever come to showing fear, "How long ago was the accident?"

"Five years now," He murmurs. Benji, Elias, Tokyo and Reid explored the building when it collapsed. In a stroke of luck, my brother threw himself onto a roof where he and Reid pulled Elias's unconscious body to safety. But when Reid went back for Benji, the building imploded.

It took my father's men hours to find Reid, trapped in the rubble with a broken arm and a split temple... but Benji was crushed. I remember when they pulled the concrete slab off his mangled corpse.

"Benji. Little shit," He murmurs absently, his eyes going distant. Reid was trapped for hours, probably terrified that he would starve to death or bleed out... "Worst part about the whole thing was the Saxa Factory standing right across the road while it collapsed."

I tear up, grazing my bottom lip, "I had nightmares about what happened to you," I admit, and he glances at me a bit too quickly.

"You did?" He murmurs.

I nod lightly, "I recognised the scar on your temple, at the hospital." I mumble. It's just a pale lightning strike, but I know it nearly killed him. It was right after Kade too...

Reid's gaze falls distant, like he's remembering the two months he spent in bed. But something darker lurks in his gaze, which sparks a bout of questions that I fail to utter. What was happening in his life to make him darken like that? Reid covers his moment of transparency by grinning, "When you tried to shoot me." He teases.

"When you tried to stab me," I mimic with a snicker.

"Was the Manic in the city then?"

The Manic. I almost laugh, "No, he left when we hit Crippy." I don' mention the guns.

He coughs a laugh, "Ballsy fückin' move. Everyone loved Crip."

I shrug, "Obviously not the Heratix, they organised the hit, we just did it."

His keen eyes spark, catching that piece of information like one would grab a cloth midair, "But the Hounds claimed the hit..." His eyes search mine, "Heratix hit on a Heratix drop?"

"Yeah, I think we stepped in a can of fuckin' worms to be honest." I blow air through my lips like I don' even wan' try unpack what the fuck was going on.

"You're not curious?"

"Course I am, but little girls who play with fire get their fingers burned." I wrinkle my nose, "I'm jus' goin' with the idea that the Heratix were really testing my loyalty." To be fair, they made me screw my own father out of some big money, and I didn't even bat an eye. Passed with flying colours I guess.

He nods, trying to adopt some of my wisdom and leave it alone, but then he runs his palm along his jaw, dismayed, "Jesus that makes no fucking sense," I can see how quick his brain attacks the new fact, trying to sift out a meaning. "When you and the Manic robbed the drop, did any of them seem to know it was coming?"

I shake my head, "Nah. I mean to be fair we had a friend fuckin' with their tech as a distraction, so the tent was empty when we picked it clean. But when they finally caught wind, every Ghoul seemed as pissed as every Heratix."

He seems impressed by the fact we nearly got out unnoticed. "So the Heratix guys didn't know they were in the line of fire?"

"Nah."

"Maybe it was an internal job, you know, like if the panel passed the vote to trade with the Ghouls, one of the zecs might've tried to fuck the deal over to get their way." He suggests. I mull it through... my jaw unhinges slightly. His statement stands out for two reasons. One, Zecs is a purely Heratix piece of slang, meaning executive officer. An' two... he knows that Heratix is a centrally structured gang, instead of a pyramid structure, like the Ghouls and Yakuza.

"That's a good fuckin' point," I tug my phone out, piecing that suggestion in with the questions I already have. I open my chat with Scor, "Yo, what if the initiation hit was an inside job? Cause Wolf was saying how the zecs been fighting over which side of Lake Darling to work with," Yakuza or Ghouls, "So maybe they chose the Ghouls but Zeke or some other tyrannical fuck made a private job to try sabotage it and piss off my dad enough to force Heratix trade onto the Yakuza." God that was an essay.

Reid's eyebrows loosen when he hears the name Wolf, but before I can wonder why, I realise his eyes are crinkling at the edges, amused. "Oh so you not gon' give me credit, huh?"

I lift my phone again as I collect my knees in my elbow, peering at him playfully before I hit record again, "think about that next time you call me dumb," I quip, sending it to Scor.

Reid barks a laugh, shaking his head, "What'd yous steal?" He bounces his brows like the question is a threat.

I shrug, glossing over the truth, "nothin' major. Jus' food an' shit, some tech, weapons."

His eyes trace my face, but I notice his attention hangs on me for a second too long, amused, but he moves on easily, "You done anything like that before? With him, I mean." He was looking at me like he knows I jus' served him a crock of shit.

I feel my mood warm when an onslaught of memories flickers through my head. "Normally, I don' like Scor coming in the city because of the chain hangings," the Ghouls have a custom where they hang Manics who sneak inside the walls. Mostly they hang anyone suspected of Mania, like the pilgrims burned women suspected of witchery. "I lived with him for a few months in another city. But we had to come back, and Scor don' like when I'm around the Voytek's, so last few months we mostly just met up to hunt... but yeah. We've done stupid shīt like that before." Putting it lightly.

"He was running with the Voytek's?" Reid sits up, frowning in outright dislike. "You serious?"

I frown back at him, "Yeah, and he hated every second of it but they were the only tribe prepared to come so close to Lake Darling, and he wasn't gon' live with Zeros just so he could see me." He also stayed for his friends, Sphynx and Delilah, but Delilah was killed by a Zero two months ago.

Scor never talks about it, but I think he loved her, and that's why he was so eager to leave.

Reid presses his lips together, "Right..." He hesitates around his question, "How manic is he?"

I grip my jaw and my stomach pinches, "Inherited it from his mum. Other than mutated analgesia and phobia of water, he's non-symptomatic." We fall silent for a moment, each of us sensing that Scorpius is about to become a sensitive topic, so I look for a way to move on. I yawn, "Carden threatened to start sending Wilkes instead of Michaels to check if we're trying."

"I fückin' hate him, he was on labour duty today." Reid snarls, a thunder clap of pent up rage darkening his face. Sensing my question, he explains, "We were hauling supplies with a crane, him on controls. Dickhead started joking about which one of our partners he wanted the worst," He kisses his teeth like something about it was personal, "the prick stopped paying attention an' fucked up a lift. Nearly snapped my damn neck. I never wanted to pop a cünt in the head so damn bad." It seems like there's more to the story, but uttering it would piss him off too much.

"Fuck," I whistle, glare descending as I glower in silent agreement, "I call dibs."

He narrows his eyes, "As long as you don' try get yourself killed this time, he's all yours."

We catch gazes and the intensity in his glare pins me in place, making me question whether he's really moved on from the fact that I was so damn reckless. I can see him itching to ask more questions like he's grappling to understand what Wilkes said to push me over the edge. Still, I scowl at the memory, avoiding it entirely by looking away.

"Thai said we got to talk tomorrow. The job is on Thursday so she an' I reckon it's time to let E in on the plot." Today is Monday.

He hums his assent, "You ever wonder if ANON is your dad?"

"Can't be. Dad wouldn't pay sixty grand to get me out, an' no way he knows Scorpius is the only person I'd trust." I dismiss. I'm beginning to believe him when he says he hates when he can't figure something out. I mean sure, not knowing bugs me, but I just figure as soon as we get free of this place, I'm gon' disappear on whoever saved us, regardless of who they are. Just cause I wound up in this hell hole doesn't mean I've stopped hanging to ditch my attachment to Lake Darling... but Reid. It's like an unanswered question is as nagging as an unscratched itch.

"At the Cruella, Craig said Scorpius Voytah. Figures he has to know a bit about him." He disagrees.

That small catch had been bugging me, but I know my father. He was too shocked, too blindsided, to have known about my friendship with Scorpius. He only recognised Scor's name because of his reputation... "Scor ran away from his mother six years ago, but Maddon Voytah is some big wig gangster in Holders Bay. Figures if anyone is in the business of knowing about long lost princes and get away manics, it's my dad."

He scratches his arm absently, nodding his understanding. "Yeah that's fair."

"Could've got away with the lie if I just, said some dude named Joe told me." I breathe out a deflated laugh. Reid squints, but I explain. "Honestly don' think dad would've pressed it if I attempted a bullshit defence given he didn't outlaw me over burning the mask. Wanted me to marry Hito."

Reid's expression bitters, "Hito." He snarls, "Fuck sake I'd be dreading that."

"Oh I am. Suspect as that he suddenly wants to meet tomorrow." I mutter.

"Him jus' wan' make it known that he wan' fuck. Practically initiating you into the Yakuza as him wife." He shakes his head, growing increasingly more disgusted by the thought of him.

It intrigues me. For someone who's usually composed... okay, bar tonight, Reid hasn't even tried to conceal his outright hatred, or his vehement dislike of Hito's intentions toward me. "Never met him. Figures." I've spent my whole life listening to rumours about the prince of the Yakuza, but never actually shook his hand.

"Lucky that," He remarks, "How you figure out Craig was supplying this place with merchandise?"

"Thai said dad was using Zina, so I bought the drugs to check. One threat and Zina ratted everything. Clothes. Electronics." I explain.

He scratches his jaw, wrinkling his nose slightly, like he regrets his reaction now, "Sorry about that too."

I gaze at the tattoos on his abdomen. How does he still look fit when he's sitting down? "I noticed when that doctor was entering my details that the software looked like it was different than what the Heratix use, so I got worried. Checked your cuffs, but it was just VORTEX." I affirm. VORTEX Designs is the tech company that the army contracted in for all of it's electronics. Heratix owns VORTEX, so they practically own the army.
I gage his reaction, knowing that however manipulative it is, I just set a trap for him. If he's confused, then he doesn't know as much about the Heratix as I suspect. If he already knows VORTEX is a Heratix company, then he's definitely more than just a Lake Darling ganger.

Reid gazes at me in surprise like everything is starting to make sense.

I nod slightly, my suspicions confirmed. "Didn't mean to default the router-mech... Was thinking of dropping them in-case they do a contraband check." I mumble, unsure of what to make of my newfound curiosity. God how did I just find another question to wonder about?

He hums, but his gaze grows distant as he watches me, like he's no longer focusing on the conversation. I get the sense we've both been dancing around a real topic, just sticking firmly within the boundaries of things that don' cross the line of inquisition that I so badly want to. Like we've both been flirting with asking something point blank... why were you kicked out of the Yakuza, Myers?

Unable to bear his attention, I make a joke, "I can't believe you thought I was cracked out on Pixie Dust."

He snickers, gazing at me, "It'd just be another secret."

It's my turn to narrow my eyes playfully but then I'm overtaken by another yawn. I rub my face and lie back into the comforters, "Touche."

"You're tired," he hoists himself over me so he can reach for my phone and my breath catches, looking up at his sculpted chest. His gold chain dangles in my face, his knee planted beside my hip and his hand bolstered on my pillow. Reid almost cages me to the ground. Again, my breath catches, my heart skipping, but then I realise he's checking the time, "shīt it's late."

"Yeah," I murmur.

He places a hand on the mattress and lifts himself to his feet, towering above me before he scoops the comforter from the floor and tosses it across the bed.

I arc a brow. But when he extends his hand, I take it, letting him pull me up. Reid stretches around me to collect his phone from somewhere under the sheets, and every muscle from his lats to his obliques ripple. My brows shoot up, watching for a second too long.

"Your boyfriend replied," He offers my phone as I sit, though he seems more interested in something on his own device. However, I can tell he's awaiting my response by the slight glimmer of amusement on his lips.

With the blue light of his screen illuminating his angular features I get a better look at the scar on the ridge of his cheek. It's faint. Like a tear drop on the outer portion of his eye socket. He lifts his gaze from his phone, noticing me looking up at him, but then a grin tugs his lips, gazing at me, "You're on my side, miss."

Oh my god he was waiting for me to move.
...

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