|𝙵𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟷𝚡|
There's a war in London. No one knows how it started, but those caught in the fray can either struggle or thrive due to the nation-wide influence of two formidable factions: the Crimson Syndicate and the Brotherhood of the...
"Don't ever get in my way again," he said, leaning close to Lennox's ear as he spoke. "Act otherwise, and you will pay. With your life."
The florist felt something brushing against his ear, tickling the sensitive skin there and causing the raging fire in his body to spread further and further.
Lennox watched with wide eyes and florid cheeks as Ren drew back and dropped the wad of cash in his lap. He didn't even bother to count the bills like he usually did. He clutched them in his hand, scrutinising Ren's every move.
The florist had no idea what in the hell just happened, and the euros that were ensnared in his fist became held in an even tighter grip than before. Ren, by then, had retrieved his firearm and was inspecting it with refined eyes. He frowned upon finding a dent. Lennox could only hold his weighted breath, anxious of what might come.
He scrambled to his feet, hoping to make a swift exit. No one in his situation would be particularly inclined to stay any longer, after such an incident. The consequences would be dire if he irritated Ren further.
Lennox embarked on his descent, only to find Ren staring at him. "Yeah, hope to see you soon too," the florist remarked, knowing he felt the exact opposite.
Who could blame him, having experienced something like that? Who could blame him for being sceptical when he knew all too well what his father and the Brotherhood did to non-conformers and people they suspected of betrayal? Who could blame him for wishing there was someone to sort out his feelings for him?
Before he knew it, Lennox was on the ground, money in his pocket and no security guards to be seen. Still, the euros weighed heavy in his jacket. He couldn't help but think something was wrong, as if he had condemned a man to death for that cash. Lennox suspected that the man in question was his father, due to the picture he had seen in Ren's hands earlier.
Even the flora seemed to waver uneasily as Lennox came to his conclusion. Against his will to live, Lennox chose to check on the rooftop, just one last time. He could only hope he wouldn't get shot in the process. He had to be sure who Ren's target was.
Each step he took got heavier, and at the same time each rung felt slimmer with each passing second. By the time he could peek his head over the wall, Lennox was unsure if he still wanted to go through with it. Was the looming threat of death worth this bit of mental tranquillity?
And then he saw his father.
Ren was still on the rooftop, a sniper gun set up and aimed towards a window. Beyond the window was a podium that faced the Verita soirée and standing next to it was indeed Lennox's father. A good-for-nothing, despicable snake of a man, with a cold heart and icy eyes. Even his skin and light hair had muted tones to them. It was like they had frozen solid.
Just like him.
Lennox's vision drifted towards the other members of his family, situated towards the front. As he predicted, his mother was drooling. Wade's mistress Mel stood on the sidelines, studying her rival, wine glass in hand. On the other hand, Chase was politely declining gifts from grandmotherly old women.
All the while, the florist had completely forgotten that Ren was a Syndicate member who snuck into the Verita party.
Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.That was why Ren was on the roof earlier. But then he interrupted him right before his target came onstage... His target—Lennox's father, Wade Carson.
He knew his mother would fall into pieces if Wade was dead; even if there was no way to stop Ren, Lennox would have to try. Before it was too late. For his mum's sake.
In spite of his objections, his body sprang into action, scaling the rest of the wall. Then he was there; facing the one person who could, in this moment, kill him with a moment's notice.
"You again. I thought I warned you not to get in my way."
"No! It's not that, I just—"
"So, you're not here to save your beloved father?" Ren interrupted.
Lennox could nearly taste the pavement pizza in his mouth. His plan would backfire spectacularly if his intentions were already known. "By gods, no. I just came to pick up something I forgot." The lies rolled off his tongue easily, smooth as silk—or butter, in this case. The blond strode up to his buyer, eyeing his gun closely.
Ren shot him a sideways glance and shrugged. "Whatever. But if I find out you're lying..." The implied message was unmistakable. He would find a new supplier, scarce or not.
Lennox gulped audibly. He hesitated, torn by his dilemma. This was his Father, after all. Yet he could not ignore the fact that Ren was a ruthless killer, who might target someone he actually cared about in the future. Just because they were on different sides of a pointless war. He knew that one action could have unforeseen consequences. It could affect people in ways no one would expect.
So, he marched forward, forcing his client to take a few strides back in bewilderment.
"Hey—what are you doing?"
Lennox had waited precisely for this moment, when Ren would instinctively reach for his handgun. At the same time, they both extended their arms towards it. Lennox wrenched the weapon out of Ren's hand, casting it aside. The florist advanced further, pushing the machinist to the perimeter of the roof.
"I can't let you hurt my family, however loathsome they are," Lennox insisted and proceeded to shove Ren off the roof of The Happenstance.
Regardless, Lennox was caught off balance as well, a sharp tug jerking at his sleeve, pulling him downwards.
There was no breaking free of it; his fate was sealed.
