o, wounded beast, ferocious fangs
the belly of the fight, adrenaline smoldering in his oceanic eyes. deals were not uncommonly to be mere trickery, his hungry heart aching for dead eyes and crimson upon his hands. an emperor taking his crooked crown, peasants taught a lesson with his wrathful hand. bullets whizzed past his crown, lips pressed into one another with ill intent. kootra was victorious, reckless even. though the fact he adored cocky and unskilled youthful idiots to attempt his death, their mistake stemmed from the FOOLISH attempt on james and stefani’s lives.
❛ whomever commands you is foolish. ❜ white knuckles gripped a shirt, a single arm bearing the younger’s weight with ease, ❛ allow me to give an example of what happens when you endanger my crew, young sir. ❜ tossing the thug with a single flick, a bullet was administered into his skull while others gazed in mortified terror. jordan’s underlings were behind him, his impulsive child protecting a sassy yet sweet heart. hell, they both were protecting stef --- she was innocent, inexperienced, and precious to both men ( regardless of the fact jordan would not admit it to her face ).
strangled gasps soon countered with guns spitting bullets, and of course, they all took cover. kootra’s exuberant frame barely fit behind any form of cover worthy of keeping his crown on his head. with an aim like an eagle’s -- most lay, vomiting blood spewing from gaping lips, gasping, taking their last toxic breaths. stepping out, piercing eyes searched about for backup, and it in fact came, but his body stood like a looming statue. their horrid aim missed each time, his one arm raised and aiming between their pig like eyes.
james, of course, protected stefani. she was no use to them at the moment, no experience with guns whatsoever ( not entirely useless, just not trusted with one during a firefight ). jordan’s judgement of how many dwindled down to a mere few. and yet, as the man stepped from behind stefani, kootra moved his aching muscles as he lunched, teeth bared. nova was faster, closer, a human shield as the man pulled the trigger. but it was kootra who put himself between the bullet and the man that he practically raised. not again. not again would he lose someone. never.
the pain was the least of his problems; jordan was PISSED. so pissed that he felt nothing but an uncontrollable rage. it had to be the soul survivor that nearly killed james and stef, and because of the fact he put himself in the way, they both were behind him. alive. the bullet was not a quality one - lodged inside his shoulder, sticky blood gushing. the pistol clicked as the fucking idiot pointed it at a dangerous expression, a seething beast. his piercing blue eyes were hardened, fire lapping within, and he merely started forwards. no noises of pain left him, he just strode towards the helpless fool.
the butt of his pistol connected with the man’s temple, once, and ONLY once -- it took ONE hit, the man was dead. the heel of his boot stomped onto the dead man’s skull, and his head began to give way. shaking hands dropped his gun to the ground, his chest rising and falling unevenly. jaw locked and teeth gritted, kootra did not turn to look at his underlings, unable to swallow his fury. the mafia boss’s entire body trembled with rage. slowly, he turned about, his expression dangerously calm, but his eyes spoke volumes. jordan began in the way of his mustang --
❛ let’s go. ❜