The Gangleaders Son

Chapter 2 - Threat.

I sipped at the strong coffee; taking away the last jitters in my hands, and let the shivers melt away in relish. Placing the empty china cup lightly on the marble island i stood up and checked my phone.

It read 8:25. Five minutes till my baby arrives. However the original thrill had already been dampened by the mere thought of hell.

School.

School, school, school.

oh school.

Bimbo's, barbie's (mardie's?) I can go on. And on.

Practically galumphing over to the door I went to sit on the front steps. The breeze was cool, yet the steps had been warmed by the morning sun. I put my head in my hands, combing my hair back with my fingers. And breathing deeply. An exercise I acquired for nerves.

Not that I ever showed them.

The deep rumble of an engine made my heart lurch in apprehension. And true to its beat, the pick up truck came around the corner of the secluded driveway. Its rusty, dirty finish not quite blending with my slick black Harley. But still, my baby was there in all its glory.

The proceedings took a little 5 minutes, after haggling viciously the man gave up the fight and gave me a slightly unfair (on his behalf of course) price. Not that i needed to haggle, I had all the money I needed to last a life time. I would say thank you to my parents, but their job's and money got them ruthlessly murdered. So no.

Taking my black helmet, I pushed back my brown hair and straddled my bike. Pacing the helmet on my head I reviewed the look I had chosen in my head: I hadn't taken much effort, just a navy bomber, black skinny jeans, and a grey crop.

Kicking the engine into ignition first time I let the thrill control my actions, reckless nature, throughout me it rejoiced at the feeling i loved most.

Freedom.

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UNKNOWN P.O.V (wow amazing ik)

I closed the door of my black Maserati, letting it slam in frustration.
He keeps sending me back here. To this shit hole. Why can't my father understand that this isn't something I need. I just need to get on with learning how to lead the company, not algebra.

Stepping up to the curb, I surveyed the tiny beings that were dancing and leaking happiness at the thought of school. Then i thought what i must look like. Black jeans, white shirt, cold face and my hands shoved in pockets to prevent them from punching any gaily dancing freshmen. But oh the temptation.

In my fury I spot Kaden, Joe, and Tyler. When their eyes met mine I saw their own anger and it radiated. They too were furious at my father, not that you'd quarrel with one of the most powerful men in America. I gave them a nod, which told them I'd see them in class.

I took my phone out of my pocket. 5 people, these five people would be joining this school in their last year. It was my job to label them: threat or not. It was a job i acquired from my father - something that I was accustomed to.

I studied the carefully the attributes of those who entered.

In 15 minutes all the new students apart from one had been assessed, no-one seemed in the least threatening.

My search for subject 5, was cut inherently short as a roar of an engine rolled over the school. Heads were turned when the slick black Harley Davidson careered into the front entrance. A move demonstrated with care yet force. The roar ended, and I got my first glimpse at subject five.

I watched as she dismounted her bike, her waist length brown hair glinted in the sun, she was slim, tall, and possibly the most stunning person I had ever seen.

I put away my infatuation, hopefully forever, and began to assess whether this girl had any involvement in the criminal community.
I picked up in three significant singularities:
1: Knuckles bruised equally on each finger - sign of good fighting technique.

2: Scaring down the side of her neck - to be threatened by knife, is to be be threatened by someone who fears her.

3: Wrist and elbow held slightly back with an unnatural hand position - shows years of being alert to hold a gun, and then to use it.

I turned swiftly, my final view stood clear in my head. Knowing that I could be ending the girls life, I rang my father.

"Father." I questioned.

"Axel, what do you want." I could tell it was him, only he called me Axel. Anyone else called me Nash.

"Subject five is a threat." I stated coldly - we always spoke like this.

"To what degree?" by this he related to the four steps.

"Severe."

"You know what to do, don't let her leave your sight. Monitor her for five days." Silence fell but I knew had not finished.

"You give the word. Decide if she is a useful asset, if not," I waited again. "I will kill her."

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Jon snow is hot

Me x