Author's note: There will be some murder and violence here, so if you're not comfortable with that, I recommend that you don't read ahead. In fact, most chapters in this book will have mild-extreme violence and gore, so proceed with full knowledge of that. Thanks!
P.S. Don't forget to vote and comment :D
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JOSHUA'S POV
My phone vibrates with a message just as I leave my office for the day.
It's from the girl I had met a week ago, a couple days?
I pick it up.
'It's me, Skyler. We met yesterday.'
Yesterday?
Also, holy shit who writes like that on fucking iMessage, punctuations and all.
I respond to her text. 'yeah i remember you, what's up?'
She types for some time and then stops, she sends me an address and goes offline almost immediately.
I try to text her on what I would do with a random location, but I just figure we're gonna meet there. I book a cab and head there. It's no longer than a 15-minute drive. But, it's a part of town I've never seen. It's a densely forested area, there was an old cabana there, it's coated with dust and cobwebs.
I stand, observing the little details, it was obviously built really long ago, even thought it was dirty, it was still holding up.
I feel a tap on my shoulder out of nowhere. I turn around to see the weird-ass woman who had me travel at 3 AM to a goddamn haunted-looking location. I'm still waiting for Micheal Myers to show up any second now.
Skyler tilts her head a little, a small glow on her face from the lamp she was holding.
"You're up at 3 AM?" I ask.
"So are you."
"Well, I have a job."
"So do I." she says, her siren eyes judging me. Of course, I'm taller than her, so she didn't intimidate me, her neck was practically in a 70 degree angle trying to look up at me.
"Where do you work?" she asks me.
I sigh and my shoulders loosen up. "A suicide prevention hotline."
"I see." She looks like she's in deep thought about it.
"Well, what about you?" I ask her, impatiently.
"Not important." She says, tensing up.
"Come on, how bad can it be?"
She purses her lips and archs her eyebrows.
Then it hits me, I can't control myself, so I just say it.
"Oh shit, are you a prostitute?"
She starts coughing and I try to stifle my laughter by biting my tongue, but it doesn't work.
I'm basically cracking up while Skyler potentially chokes in shock.
"Holy fuck, no! Of course not!" she says, looking a little mad.
"You sure?" I ask, smirking, trying to bite my smile away.
"YES I'M SURE. Goddamn, fine I'll tell you."
"Uh huh, go ahead. Better not be a stripper or a pole dancer." I say, mockingly.
"I'm the daughter of the mafia boss."
"You're what?"
"I'M IN THE MAFIA."
"And I'm the President."
"I'm serious."
"No, you're Inthemafia!" I say, feeling ashamed of my own joke.
She sighs and rolls back her sleeves. I saw the slow-fading burn mark of what looks like the greek god of doom.
"Is that- Moros?" I asked.
"I'm surprised you know that. Are you greek?"
"No, I just happen to be very interested in greek mythology."
She eyes me suspiciously, like she did the first time we had met.
"Sure you are."
"It's true!"
"fine."
"FINE."
Skyler's POV
As he shouts, I hear some anger and annoyance in his deep voice. He just shouted at me even though I just revealed to him I'm in the mafia. I like it. Finally, someone who saw me as not only a part of the mafia, but as my own person.
I wasn't used to it at all, I'm sure the shock was evident on my face.
"What?" he asks.
"What?"
I sigh then walk up to the cabana. I remembered my Saturday winter mornings that I spent here, reading, painting. Whatever my new hobby was. It was a haven to me. Even at 3:30 in the night, it felt safe. I touched the wood. I looked back at my hand, now covered finger-to-finger in dust.
"So what are the benefits of being in the mafia?"
"Oh, you just get to, you know, hang around and MURDER people. Really fun."
"Hmm. Probably fun." He says, unfazed.
"You probably could find out where I live."
I smile, took out my phone and tell him his exact address, his father's name and his birthday.
He scoffs. "Oh yeah, find out my body count, then."
Even through the obvious worry lines on his face, he's weirdly friendly.
Probably could hide it so well from putting up a mask, or maybe it's wrinkles.
"You won't tell anyone I'm in the mafia."
"Oh yeah, don't worry, I couldn't give a lesser of a shit."
I'm shocked at the genuine audacity.
"Let's see how much of a shit you give when I show up at your house."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." he says, smirking.
That was when the leaves rustled behind me. I try not to make an instant reaction.
"fucking Micheal Myers" Joshua whispers under his breath. I'm shocked at how calm he is, and how he immediately comprehended that there was a problem, even though it wasn't exactly Micheal Myers.
The footsteps get closer and closer, I turn to face the noise, there, standing before me are people who I assumed my dad had sent. Or Tomer.
I hear Joshua getting closer to me behind me, until he's brushing with my back. He whispers in my ear "Now."
I run and swing my leg upwards, hitting the head of the first out of 10 men.
Joshua runs and trips someone, and is standing a second later, with his broad foot on his throat. I see the man slowly suffocate, before I can see any more, a man comes from behind me and puts a metal pole in front of my neck.
I quickly slip out before it could reach my actual neck and took the pole with me. I thrust it into his stomach, the blood gushes out, ruining my clothes.
I hear some wheezing coming from the right, and I meet with Joshua's eyes as he chokes a man against a tree, like it was as easy as juicing an orange.
We either kill all of the men, or leave them on their knees, begging for mercy.
"Good game. We should do this more often." Joshua says when we're done, with a spark in his eyes.
It's just now I'm noticing how gorgeous this man is. His soft small lips, his broad nose, his grey almond eyes, his sharp as fuck jawline, his cheekbones set perfectly, not too high, not too low, his bushy eyebrows, the light freckles on and around his nose, his hair, that's cut perfectly, ending a little below his eyes, his 6'2 frame, his broad shoulders, his muscular body. But, he doesn't look like he's descended from the heavens, blood on his hands and a splotch of it on his face, he looks like the Devil reincarnated.
"We should." I reply.