RILEY PARKER:
She was so tired of living in the past anytime Fletcher was around, but her nostrils flared at how relaxed he appeared and how easy the words came out. Why couldn’t she be more like that? “Does it?“ Boohoo, she thought, cry me a river. Riley was trying so hard not to look uncomfortable. Not only was she suspicious of who Fletcher was, but she couldn’t forget who he used to be. She looked back to where he motioned, seeing Asher there. Her gaze slowly shifted back to the taller make. “So you’re the gorilla man who was staring earlier.” She pointed out rather than question it. She didn’t feel the need to relieve Fletcher’s curiosity about Asher either. The blonde replied with a nod and walked towards the dance floor. It was a good opportunity to look at the crowd and count snake heads while they swayed around. Riley rested her arms over Fletcher’s shoulders and it was hard not to remember the small, but meaningful things. Like in the kitchen they shared years ago, when she used to step barefoot on his feet to more easily lace her fingers at the nape of his next so they could dance to some stupid song. Sure, she missed small moments like that —the moments she thought signified a forever— but the past was gone. They way Fletcher had touched her at one point meant everything. Not with a means to an end and not to make her or himself feel good or better, but for absolutely no reason other than to feel loved. To map out her skin and commit it to memory, to find heartbeats and soft chuckles. At some point, Riley had started to look for his touch as soon as he entered a room, looked for it in praise, in comfort, and in worship. But she eventually stopped looking altogether. Riley’s eyes caught in Fletcher’s blue hues and she only recognized a stranger. No more counting breathes the way she counted the stars or made wishes on very single one. It was easier to offer him a smile than before, at least for now. “You clean up nice.” She didn’t quite buy why he was there despite Grace. “Not as nice as her.” She looked at his sister, who she had casual conversation with earlier. “Don’t beat yourself up too much though, women are always prettier and no one is supposed to outshine the bride. Not even you, Casanova.”
...
“Gorilla man?“ The Williams male couldn’t help the cocked brow that rose in place upon his features as he stole a glance down at the blonde. A short chuckle parted his lips as he shook his head, amusement tugging at his lips. “Is that what your little boyfriend called me? I’d almost take that as a term of endearment if he wasn’t so -- well, small. You could do a lot better you know Riles.” He mused, tone sobering some as he finished, aquamarine found her date’s through the crowd once more and he couldn’t help but pull her just that little bit closer, instinctively but also selfishly. The woman he once knew, once shared a home with among everything else -- was no where to be seen. Instead replaced by a woman that no longer held only warmth in those pristine depths, this woman was sharper, her edges rougher and she was hiding something. That much he was sure of. Nevertheless her compliment evoked a lingering lopsided grin from the male, as he too followed her gaze to see his sister across the room, engaged in conversation with the rest of the bridal party. “No one outshines my Grace Williams. I learnt that the hard way when we were kids.” He drawled, smile softening with something akin to pride. It was a rare occasion that he saw the other remaining Williams sibling in such an elaborate get up, and yet all he could think was how proud his parents would have been had they been there to see it. “Woah, hold on just a minute. Casanova?” He echoed, brows raised in silent questioned as he failed to suppress the lowly chuckle that built in his throat. “Did we just take the next stage in our relationship, to pet names? Careful Riley, it almost sounded like...“ though his voice trailed off as he noted movement in his peripheral, men dressed in black moving to conceal each door. Something was wrong, very fucking wrong. And that was all but affirmed as Isaak Volkov took center stage, with his family in quick succession.
Time Skip
Throughout the entire speech all Fletcher could do was stare at his sister and the male hovering above her. Aquamarine irises, traced his features committing them to memory as the Volkov male droned on and on. One could have sworn he liked the sound of his own voice more than anything else. And with a clear flare for the dramatics, it allowed Fletcher ample time to make eye contact with several other Scorpions around the room. All of which shared the same expression. Rage unlike no other. It was clear most were desperate, twitching even to lead into action and tend to the aid of their Scorpion family. However, it was blatantly obvious they were vastly outnumber. To the point there could be no reward with any level of risk. Instead they were rendered helpless, stuck in place surrounded by snakes that seemed all too pleased with themselves and their Vice President. Bang. Gasps, screams and the sound of feet hounding the banquet floor as there was a mad rush to the exits. It was in that moment that he lost sight of his sister along with the others, Rocco, Giovanni and their own president. Shit. The blonde beside him remained and without even a moment of hesitation, he whirled on her, grabbing the woman by the neck as an angry storm sudden swirled within his usual bright hues. “You’re one of them, aren’t you. A fucking snake...” It was as if suddenly a flip was switched inside the male, and instead of his usual charismatic persona, it was replaced by the monster that lurked in the depths of darkness fueled by nothing but the need for revenge.
