𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦

15

quinn

let's count the people in the room.

one girl, tied to a chair.

one angry tattooed guy, currently in the middle of dropping the chair i was bound to that was angled in a tilt so low the ground was coming up fast.

one even angrier grayson, stealing the guy's knife and making quick work of the fight.

and one dead, lifeless, sheffield grayson.

my forehead smacked painfully on the rough stone floor as i let out a groan of pain through clenched teeth, my chair tilting sideways while my shoulder banged onto the floor, somewhat absorbing most of the shock from the fall.

for a second i just stayed there feeling utterly helpless as grayson and the tattooed guy continued their attempted murder of each other. my cheek was bleeding a lot now- it wasn't stopping, either.

then i saw it.

the glint of the gold cane with it's sharp, angular point spoke to me, seemingly. it flashed at me, winked at me, did everything it could to get my attention. if i just strained my fingers a little bit-

my middle finger clumsily latched onto the smooth, curved part of the hook and pulled, slowly easing the cold metal into numb palm.

and i started stabbing.

aside from the pain in my strained fingers and the couple times i missed, well, the gold embedded itself into the soft flesh of my fingers, but i couldn't deny the progress.

thrust. pull out. hook on the torn fabric. pull again. almost break neck trying to find fraying fabric. pull.

unravel.

the blood rushed back into my body, and i was instantly up and moving, the rest of the bindings falling seamlessly off, the red on my wrists being connected to all the others. my bare feet found purchase on the rough, stone floor, as i spied a variety of metal carpentry tools, lying rusted, forgotten, haphazardly amongst the seemingly endless rows of shelves.

i didn't look at which one i took. i just acted. all the weeks in the past three months i'd met up with jameson to train in self defence paid off- grayson and the tattoed guy were still sparring. one opening, and i was in the fight.

(tw: violence, knife fight)

grayson's eyes seemingly blew up in flames, all the ice in them gone, replaced with an ever-growing inferno threatening to consume anyone who looked into them. he yelled at me to stop, to let him handle this. i merely gritted my teeth and narrowly dodged one dragon-tattoed fist, landing a clean cut on the guy's shoulders with what i now recognized was a screwdriver clenched in my white-knuckled fist. consciousness was ebbing and flowing in my mind, slowly seeping in with each passing second my weak body stayed up.

and then i was staring down a fist with a beautiful black dragon etched in a spiral up to the shoulder.

i dropped into a crouch, swinging my foot, knocking him to his knees as grayson stepped behind me and landed a blow on the guy's face.

thank god for jameson. i slammed my knee into his stomach, and i kept it there, rage and adrenaline coursing through my weak veins, keeping my body up and running. i yanked on the guy's shirt, forcing him to look at me, and my voice came out like cold, solid steel. 'name?'

he winced and tried to sit up, but i dug my knee, hard, into his stomach. i could feel grayson behind me, but he didn't stop me- nor did i stop myself. 'name?'

the guy actually flinched, his lips shaking with an unreleased howl of pain. he muttered something in korean, my brain whirring at the familiar syllables. '내가 말하기 전에 죽을 거야-'

props to having a half-korean mom: relatives always spoke to you in rapid language and expected you to understand whatever the hell they were saying while petting your head and looking at you expectantly to reply in the same rapid fire.

'he says he'll die before he talks.' i turned, speaking to grayson for the first time in three months. 'will you do the honors or will i?'

he didn't speak.

'fine.' i turned back to the tattooed guy, sheffield grayson's abandoned pistol clenched in my hand. '천국의 문이 어떻게 생겼는지 말해주세요. 그렇죠? 나는 항상 알고 싶었습니다.'

the guy smirked, replying in english- a hoarse, roughly accented thing. 'he'll see them before me.'

he looked behind me.

i didn't even know he had a knife in his hand before it flew and connected solidly with grayson davenport hawthorne's chest.

and i pulled the trigger as the world collapsed into chaos around me, and the walls contracted around me and the lights became fireflies and the earth went dark.

his name was on my lips as i fell, my already-injured shoulder twisted with a sickening crack, fire spreading through my body before consuming the dying parts of my brain and swallowing me whole.

author's note

short one cuz exams :)

word count: 750