The Crimson Statue ( gxg )

𝐈𝐕 | Venus Fly Trap

THE SUDDEN SOUND OF THE STRANGER'S VOICE STARTLED ZAIRA, CAUSING HER TO FREEZE IN HER SPOT.  But once Zaira's eyes met hers, her brain short circuited.The stranger's eyes were like the autumn months, the stare from her amber eyes crisp, but yielded a foreign feeling. No longer could she keep her facade up, the stoic mask she permanently displayed was gone, replaced by utter shock. It could just be from the fact that the woman had figured out that, what happened behind this particular closed door, wasn't the same as what happened behind the other closed doors. Yes, that could be it. That was the story Zaira would stick to - not like she would need to tell it.

Out of all the women Zaira had seen in her 25 miserable years on earth, this woman was a far cry from all the prim and fake ones she had gotten used to.

The stranger stood there, cigarette in hand, wispy smoke trailing from her tan fingers, rising past the tight fitting vest that was snug over her crisp white dress shirt, all the way up to her cocky smirk and finally to her magnetic eyes that pulled Zaira in. It was the first time Zaira had seen a woman in a suit, and boy did she wear it better than any man she had ever seen. Even Fiero, and he was considered a gift from god, but for her, it was more like a punishment.

"My ego wants me to believe that you're staring because of my dashing looks. But the rational part of me over powers that, leading me to believe that you're catching flies because I saw your little secret," chuckled, voice rich like black coffee, words flowing with a sharp husk to it.

At once Zaira shut her mouth, snapping herself out of her trance and bringing herself back to the cold hard reality. The woman might not know it, but her ego was correct, Zaira wasn't staring at her in surprise, hell she had even forgotten the fact that she just killed a man.

But now the stranger knew what she did, and what she looked like, and if this woman held an ounce of the power she portrayed, Zaira was in deep shit. If it was anyone else in her position, they wouldn't believe that someone who was clearly not from around here could do any damage to them, whether it be physically or not. But Zaira was smart, she knew better than to dismiss this woman as a potential threat. With that, like second nature, she lifted her skirt and grabbed the gun in her garter before pointing it at the woman before her, all in one fluid motion.

In hind sight, that skirt lift could have had a totally different meaning.

But the other woman wasn't naive, her gun already out and pointing at Zaira, eyebrow raised in a questioning manner at the woman before her. 

"If you think I will give you money to shut up about this, then you are sorely mistaken," Zaira hissed, still not completely caught up with the situation.

Once again the smirk arrived on the woman's face, confidence oozing off her in waves, "And if you think you can shoot me and walk away you too are sorely mistaken, ya amar."

"Don't be so cocky."

"Cocky? I would have thought the Crimson Lady would have noticed the gun pointed at you," the woman taunted, the initial entrapment she had around Zaira diminishing with each word that came out of her mouth.

"I do notice," Zaira spat, eyes glued to the woman like a mouse in a glue trap, all the while praying to stall long enough for the reinforcements to come.

"Oh please. Not my gun, their gun."

"If this is some kind of trick to catch me of guard then you're failing miserable," Zaira muttered, hand turning white from her crushing grip on her gun, all because of that tiny little doubt that crawled in her head.