lethal | hs

/13/

Without saying anything else, I follow his instructions, rushing over to the kitchen. I can hear him hissing from his pain from the other end of the house. Quickly, I pull open the drawer he was talking about. Everything inside is organized and neat, and with my surprise, I pull out a roll of bandages like he asked for.

"I have them," I call over to the door, and moments later it opens just a crack.

I hand him the bandages, but the second he goes to close the door back in my face, I catch it. On any normal day, I would expect him to beat me in strength, but given he's injured, he can't push the door back. He fights slightly to keep me out, but I successfully push my way in.

"Fine, invite yourself in," he gives up because it's too late. I'm already full inside, closing the door behind me.

The bathroom is much bigger than I expected. There are two sinks, one of which that's almost stained red from his blood, and the other is unoccupied. There's a large, glass shower in the corner, and much like the rest of his house, everything is clean.

I really must not know a lot about him. He keeps everything he owns organized and clean, he has a cat, and he steals cars. Nothing about this man adds up to the vision I've had in my head for the past three years.

"Where'd you run into the guy at?" I try to get more context for why every single one of his fingers are bleeding.

I lean against the opposite end of the counter, watching as he holds both hands under the sink.

His finger tattoos are completely drenched in the red color of his blood, each of them becoming unveiled as the water pressure rinses the tint off.

"The bar. I went back," he answers in fragments, gritting his teeth through the pain that the water pressure is causing, "James' was performing and I found the guy in the back beating the shit out of Wyatt, so I had to do somethin'. I guess I punched too hard."

"I guess this is what you were talking about then, huh? When you said you had to deal with them before I turned you in for stealing cars," I bite back more of my curiosity.

He turns off the water, lightly drying his right hand's knuckles by dabbing a cloth onto the spots. He takes the bandages with his left hand, awkwardly unraveling the roll with one hand. He tilts his head to the side, biting down on the bandages, and using his teeth to rip the strand of its roll.

"See, you're startin' to understand," he bites his lip in concentration as he starts to bandage up his right knuckles. "They aren't going anywhere near Wyatt again, trust me, but I have a feeling you're next."

"Me?" I swallow. "Why?"

"Ross knows he's going to get his ass beat if he starts off by targeting me, Kura, or Niall, so he's going for the weaker ones first," Hot Shot explains, and I start to take it as a low blow.

"Weak? What do you mean?" I search for clarification.

"Ones that can't fight. He fucked up Wyatt's face, and he might not do somethin' like that to you, but he's going to be pissed since you wore that necklace," he continues to wrap his knuckles as best as he can.

"Who said I can't fight?"

He looks at me. His eyes zero onto mine, then they slowly drop down to my legs, and back up to my face, "If you told me you could, I wouldn't believe you."