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He calls this back and forth thing we do a game, but it’s not a game to me. Not anymore. I want him. I need him. And I’ve never allowed myself to want or need anyone or anything in this life. Because nothing good ever stays.
Chapter two
Riot
Like a child who was just sent to the principal's office, I slouch down in the chair in my boss’s office, twiddling my thumbs nervously. I’m not the same these days. I’m off, and I’m fairly certain he sees it too in just about everything that I do. Flashbacks of last night cloud my mind, and I can’t seem to claw my way out of that bedroom.
I replay the scenes over and over in my head like a movie.
Play, pause, rewind.
Repeat.
Our dynamic has always been one of dominance and submission. Zeke’s lips drip filthy demands and I submit. I cave to his will, starving for his praise, burning for his touch. But every single time, like a full blown addict, I find myself needing more and more of him. And now I’m at a crossroads.
This thing we do, it’s not enough for me anymore. I was fine with ‘casual’ when it all began, but I can’t keep taking bits and pieces of Zeke Adams in whatever capacity he’s willing to feed them to me. I need all of him. I need every bit. Every piece. Even the dark and damaged ones.
I find myself longing to exist in this non-existent space where there’s no more him, and no more me. There’s just us. And it’s overtaking every thought inside of my head, slowly tearing me apart.
“Riot?” Travis barks.
Jolting in my seat, I run my hands up and down the sharp stubble of my cheeks as I crawl out of my own head. Flicking my eyes up to meet his, I immediately notice the irritation written all over his face.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Sighing loudly, he runs his fingers through his hair and leans back in his chair.
“What’s going on with you, kid?”
“I- nothing.”
Shaking his head, he starts again, “Okay, well look… I need the surveillance and security system done before the end of the month, you’re gonna need to get together with Zeke and work out the logistics so he can take over the project. That will leave you free to juggle Afterlife and the shipments. I’m stretched really thin right now getting the contracts completed and vendors lined up for the club expansion.”
Groaning, I drop my head back against the cushions of the couch.
“Okay, something is going on with you. Out with it,” he demands, kicking his fresh white sneakers up onto his desk.
Travis may run the Havok Brotherhood, and he may have this spacious high rise building in his name, but he’s not the man in the suit unless he has to be. He’d much rather be getting his hands dirty. Looking at him, you’d see a low level dealer; you’d never guess he runs it all. In some ways it works in his favor. People tend to underestimate his power and brutality.
“I’m fine, I got it. Just, promise me if you have anyone that needs offed anytime soon that I’m your man.”
He smirks and I roll my eyes, “Itching to get your hands bloody again already?”
“More like itching for a distraction from my own mind,” I mutter, as I turn my head and gaze out the windows of the high rise.
From this office you can see the entire city. The view itself is spectacular, and from this height, the city almost looks beautiful. It’s a place I never thought I’d be sitting though.
When you’re way up here, you can’t see the underprivileged streets I used to call home. Up here, Havok Hills feels magical. It’s far from magical though.
Just some punk ass kid, I was born the product of a loveless marriage between two royally fucked up human beings. My father was an abusive prick who spent nearly my entire life in and out of jail for beating on my mom and me. Both an addict, and a stripper, my mom did her absolute best to raise me on her own. Her best was rarely enough though, so I was hustling the streets with my best friend, Colt, before I was old enough to understand the life that I was damning my soul to.
She loved me the only way she knew how, and despite the pain she subjected herself to every single day, she always tried to protect me from the world in which we lived. She was always there for me when I needed her the most, and that devotion was her downfall.
We lived in the row homes down in the trenches of Havok Hills. The wrong side of the tracks. No fancy high rises for me. No men with briefcases and cell phones heading to their jobs as day traders or investors. Nope. I belonged to the fucking streets. Nothing but empty bellies, cold winters, pain, and enough trauma to haunt my ass even in death. Slinging dope to put food in the refrigerator and keep the electric running. Havok Hills was nothing more than the city I longed to escape from.
So it’s ironic the way I ended up here.
Ironic how my best friend who ended up losing his life to this world was the one who brought me in, and while I should have ran when he was killed, my blood is so fucking loyal that now I’m second in command of the entire organization. The organization known as the Havok Brotherhood. We essentially own the entire east side of this city. And the west side? Well that’s run by another gang, the Reapers, and while we were once mortal enemies, we are now something bordering on allies. Friends. Maybe family?