𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 | "You call it murder, I call it
a conversation starter."
﹙spring holds death in it's palm and covers it in a blanket of life. It's revival. ﹚
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 Amaira is given a second chance at life a...
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𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖
𝗔𝗠𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗔 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗗 but muffled music blaring through the closed doors of the nightclub, inwardly cursing profanities at her terrible luck, if there was something Amaira despised more than her father, it was loud music and nightclubs.
Her grey eyes stared intensely at the cursively written 'Rock N'Roll' which shone brightly with red neon lights. "Do we really have to do this?" She asked aloud, not really expecting an answer from the men standing behind her with void expressions.
A sigh escaped her lips as the waiter bowed repeatedly and looked at her with a pleading look. The man looked ready to faint in fear if she delayed the meeting any further than she already has but he didn't have the guts to reprimand her either. He seemed to be conflicted with his own choices, his expression clearly screaming 'I don't get paid enough for this.'
Amaira snickered at his flustered look but nonetheless decided to finally acknowledge his actions and walked into the nightclub, immediately wincing at the extremely loud music and scrunching up her nose in sheer disgust at the smell of alcohol, drugs and sweat.
"This way." The waiter muttered, his head lowered in respect as he motioned towards the private room on second floor. Amaira absent-mindedly played with the silver rings on her slender fingers, a habit she developed over the years to calm herself, ignoring the now silent club. She wasn't oblivious to not see the curious and frightened looks sent her way but merely choose to ignore the heated stares.
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For today's unexpected meeting, Amaira had decided to wear a long sleeve black dress with a single slit on the left side which hid her pistol perfectly. She paired it with a few silver rings, ear piercings and black stilettos, an intimidating but perfect look for the meeting. She didn't wish to see a repeat of her past ones where someone ended up with a bullet in their head because of their oh-so-lovely male ego and superiority complex.
