Sweet words were a particular kind of poison. When a formula worked—when it put a king in your bed and a crown of diamonds upon your head—you didn’t experiment with the recipe too much. In the world men foolishly believed belonged to them, femininity could never be overlooked. Elisabeth’s would’ve been her downfall, had she not turned it into a weapon: soft purring, fitted dresses, that signature southern belle charm. Harmless flirting here and there. Yet there was a line no man except Vittorio had ever crossed: a line no other man—or woman—would ever be allowed to disrupt.
Roman had stepped on it, but really, it shouldn’t have surprised her. Wasn’t this what she appreciated about him the most? That kindred, lucid boldness.
His was amusing. Hers had paid off. The confirmation was right there, lingering on her tender skin: Roman Guerra could, to a certain extent, be trusted.
“You’ve answered your own question,” she told him, matter-of-factly. “Because Logan Legend brutally murdered the Mayor. Because I like him.” A little shrug. There was some potential there. Why waste it on the Castros? “And because I was bored. Besides”—eyelashes fluttered, the grin grew wider—“now he owes me. I want—”
Elisabeth turned on her heel, lips staying parted for a moment. Crap.
“You motherfuckin’ bastards,” repeated Seran Brenek as he stumbled out of the fire escape and onto the cracked pavement. Still half-slurring his words, but his glare a sharp, pointed knife. Mammoth-sized paws gripped the doorway so tight the wood squeaked. It sounded like an animal being strangled.
“Seran,” said Elisabeth carefully. A hand raised to clutch her necklace. He’d followed them here. Which meant he’d heard enough.
“How long?“ He spat, ever the drama queen. “How long have you been working with this worm?“
Worm. She glanced sideways at Roman, suppressing a chuckle, then back at the Stones’ Vice President. Fingers traced the edges of the silver heart, once, twice. Think think think. “Seran, you’re bein’ ridicilous.“ Her voice was soft, almost playful. Too playful, actually. This isn’t funny. Focus. “You got it all wrong.“
Seran’s beetle eyes narrowed in disgust. “Raphael trusted you, Elisabeth.“
Yes, well, Raphael is dumber than a five pound sack of stupid. “Come on, we should talk about this.“ She moved towards him, but a sudden glimpse of silver in the shadows made her halt.
Worm? He reiterated to himself, a subtle smirk forming on the cusp of knowing lips.
If he wasn’t mistaken, this was the same man that aided a worm of their own. Daisy had told him everything from the unintentional allegiances to the downright dirty plays. She’d warned him of Emilia’s inevitable betrayal. Saying she had a look in her eyes that had been reminiscent of a cougar lying in wait of her dinner. He should have listened. He would’ve avoided jail time had he taken care of her sooner.
His emerald hues bore whiskey brown as he moved to stand in front of Elisabeth. He knew she was more than capable to handling this herself to some degree, but Roman’s specialty was raw, mindless violence. He had endured broken bones and bullet wounds to take down some of his opponents. Mentally blocking the pain that would’ve brought him to his knees had he not learned to numb himself completely.
“The same Seran that helped Emilia, I gather,” his voice growled low, like fresh gravel. He approached, politely removing his suit jacket, handing it over to Lis with a polite smile. Returning his gaze to the man, a flicker of a familiar shadow put him at ease. He began by rolling up his sleeves, taking his sweet-ass time as he was careful not to wrinkle the fine fabric. Loosening his tie, he advanced and watched as Seran swung that axe high.
Grabbing the axe by the blade, Julian tutted as he ripped it out of his grasp in one fluid movement. Anger had been written on the poor fellow’s face but it’d hardly fazed JJ. His foot connected with the side of his knee at the same time, the sickening snap almost echoing throughout and before Seran could spit out his first vulgar sentence, Roman stuffed his tie into his mouth. Muffled cries could be heard but Roman wanted to hear them in all its glory. Soak in the bloodcurdling screams— but this was still rather public. They were out in the open. Still, Emilia had betrayed him and collected his head. It was only fair he do the same with her saviour.
“Should’ve kept your nose out of it, rat,” he hissed, delivering his first punch. Another. His hits were timed, calculative but fierce. Reckless in their wake. Blood matted his knuckles, painting over the tattoos adorning the top of his hand. He wanted to see the inside of this man’s head.
Julian stood back to watch, lighting up a cigarette. A respective gesture to showcase he was well aware of his position. Roman was fully capable of handling this himself. Julian was just there to make sure the other didn’t have the chance to overpower him.
Roman stumbled back, ragged breaths coming through in near wheezes before he cocked his head towards JJ, a wordless command. The twin nodded, glancing sidelong to the man’s limp form fall to the ground, barely managing to catch himself. JJ rejoined his side, passing the axe to Roman who’d simply taken it before offering it to Elisabeth.
“Batter up, beautiful,” he breathed out a soft chuckle.
