"Clean this up," he ordered exhaustedly, running a hand over his face, blood from the punch thrown at his lip painting the tips of his fingers. Turning around, he finally saw Aaron, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still angry from their argument earlier. To make matters worse, he started to think about how he even found where he was anyway. Like he was led to where Wes was. Blood rushing to his ears, face piping hot red he didn’t even register what Aaron had said to him until he heard the sirens. Someone couldn’t have heard that already? Wes wasn’t a stranger to the sound, but he most definitely had never been in a position where that noise was directed for him. Slight panic settled in and he spun around in circles, head peering behind every corner he could see. "Where’s Dimples? Huh? Where is she?"
It was quiet for a little while, the rest of his guys trying to figure out an answer, a plan to find someone they’d never met before. But then he heard rustling and his ears perked up to the sound. Eyebrow raised, feeling a little nervous. “Check over there, behind that tree,” he pointed and two guys obeyed. Wesley carefully watched them pull someone out from behind — that kid, the one that was high off edibles. An exasperated sigh left him and he wagged a finger for them to drag the boy to where he stood. Though there was no time to waste, the sirens were getting louder and he turned to Aaron with wide eyes. They needed to go. Aaron picked up the gun and handed Wes the case of money. He couldn’t just leave him, it was a brotherhood, they ha each other’s back and never in the history of HQ would anyone ever believe it would go downhill because of the police. But this was still a business, everyone had a mouth or two to feed and a life to live, and he knew what he needed to do. “Clear out,” he called and everyone started running, while the two who were holding the boy stood still, waiting for their own specific orders. Wes approached him and firmly gripped his shoulder. “We’re gonna talk, all right?” He grinned and then nodded his head away, his men following the direction. “Go.”
"You needed to go, too," he told Aaron, trying too hard to not let concern show in his voice. But he wasn’t sure what was going to happen. He knew Aaron wasn’t going to say anything, but he couldn’t let his best friend get taken in. In the back of his mind, he was worried about Michelle, what she saw, what she thought, what’d she tell to whom. No, but he trusted her, he told her himself. Now, he was worried about her safety. As his feet slowly started to advance, he turned his head every which way for her, to find her. Maybe it was for the best. She should have never gotten involved. But names were exchanged, she saw what he’d done. They were going to see each other again; it was guaranteed. Soon he started running himself, leaving Aaron and the dead body behind.
Hushed whispers and harsh footsteps were faintly heard in the distance, but Michelle was still stuck in her own head — trying to figure out what just happened. She had always prided herself on having a photogenic memory in the past, but that pride was slowly turning into shame and she was scared; she knew she was never going to forget this. She takes a moment to calm herself down and even out her breathing before she looks up and sees men running in the opposite direction of where she’s sitting by the lone tree. Her ears pique at the sound of Wesley’s voice and soon she realizes he’s calling for her. Where’s Dimples? Huh? Where is she? She wants to say something, wants to scream — but even she knows better than to make more noise than absolutely necessary.
She stands up, slowly at first and takes notice of her surroundings, the scent of salt and rust filling her nostrils, causing her to scrunch up her nose in disgust. She turns in the direction of her apartment and almost misses a redheaded boy being pulled out from behind a nearby tree. She’s sure he’s seen the entire thing and she only hopes he forgets quickly, for his own good. She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, he was right; names were exchanged and for better or for worse, they were going to see each other again — but until then, Michelle continues walking, hands stuffed into the pockets of Wesley’s jacket as though she was merely leaving the conversation and not a crime scene.
pixelskylines
stormborns
