Eye on Inferno

her limbs ache something fierce; high-pitched screams and suppressed groans following each careless, unorthodox step. she lost her strut long ago in favor of a slightly more comfortable venture from the club to her apartment. scrutinizing eyes weren’t upon her. none that she knew of, however.

the looming darkness and its iridescent yet rebellious children sink deep within her paper-tone skin, causing droopy lids that almost sheath the emeralds on her face. the diseased sidewalk seemed like a suitable sleeping habitat at that point. it would cradle her like a long lost sister, germs providing a blanket before it nurses an incurable disease within that eats flesh and bone.

then she realizes she’s at her front door and everything else is given her middle finger, all excited and erect, before she enters her household. her sanctuary.

more darkness. it’s short-lived via a flick of a manicured finger as the rays of light crack down upon it. and her feet, while sore and aching and bruised, will her to the kitchen. hands sloppily maneuver about the kitchen; grazing any exposed varnished wood and handle. she relinquishes a cup from the mouth of the grand kitchen and rejuvenates it with water from the tap. the beast - wrapped in a sheer coat - consumes its life force in three consecutive gulps. it was much needed, so it went without guilt.

they were skilled, she’d give them that. quiet? not so much. and while they might have been an assumption, she’d hope for their sake it wasn’t. if it was premeditated and given an ounce of thought, whoever was intruding upon her sanctuary would know she wouldn’t go down easily. and the creak of the wood flooring was her advantage.

she’s fast. remarkably fast. she couldn’t discern if it was adrenaline or fear that warranted her to so quickly grab the butcher knife from its block and spin and thrust. the metal is jammed into the figure’s stomach, and blood begins pouring from the wound. she figured the towering male would be grimacing in pain, but his masked face left her devoid of that fact. instead, he’s reduced to his knees and doubles over. 

a daunting couple feet are what stands in between her freedom. the door, still fresh from her entrance, is unlocked. while it’s grasping at straws that were in fact millions of light years away, it was a shot that wouldn’t be left unfired. her heels clack violently like a thunderstorm against the floor; the details of the door becoming clearer as she inched closer. her hand wraps around the slightly warm handle when she’s close enough and tugs, only to collide with another figure.

same stocky, encompassing build as the last. only this one was equipped with a camera; peering down at her, gazing at her disgusting soul. there was little time to dwell over her chances of escaping when the trio is completed and a wet rag is secured over her nose and mouth. its sibling encircles her waist and arms and pulls violet against his front, to secure her in place and keep her from thrashing. her blood is rushing, tears are streaming, and panic mode is finally switched on. short breath after short breath occurs, causing her to increase her intake of the toxic fumes. the last thing she sees is the black camera lens hovering over her; filming the whole ordeal. 

Hanna stood in the kitchen of Adam's apartment, unloading the groceries her and Stormie had bought quickly after she received Adam's text. Glancing into the livingroom, she watched Stormie sitting on the ground with several toys. Smiling to herself, Hanna turned back into the kitchen and pulled out several more items from one of the brown bags. Turning on the water, she opened a plastic bag of vegetables she had bought and her mind drifted to all the girls that were disappearing. It hadn't really bothered her too much, until she noticed how upset Adam was. Pulling out a knife, she had started cutting several of the vegetables when a small knock brought her back from her thoughts. Drying her hands off on a towel, Hanna moved towards the door a bit more cautious than she usually would. "Who is it...?" She called, praying for Adam or another one of their friends to reply. Instead it was the opposite. It was a deep, unknown voice and it caused a chill to shock down her spine. "Open this door, Hanna. Let's do this the easy way." Biting her lip, Hanna slowly backed towards the livingroom and still held the knife in her hand firmly. "Hanna!" The voice called out again, this time the knocking getting louder and louder. "You don't want us to break open this door, do ya?" Quickly running into the livingroom, Hanna swooped up Stormie in her arms and ran towards the coat closet. Shutting it behind her quickly, she heard several more loud noises before what she assumed was the door being forced open.

"And… we’re rolling." The voice behind the camera spoke as if he was filming a hard-hitting documentary, as opposed to… whatever this was. You could hear a man telling the end of a joke in the background, gaining himself a few chuckles. Another voice closer to the camera said "oh, so he wasn’t talking about you?" which raised more laughs. The camera focused onto a parking lot. Whoever was holding the camera was in a car — more like a van, actually. He was being careful not to point the camera into the van, so it was impossible to tell how many people were there.

The laughs and ribbing stopped abruptly, and a muffled female voice could be heard outside the car. Without any kind of vocal command, doors opened and the man holding the camera was out of the van, with the sound of shoes hitting the ground behind him.

The camera turned up to face a small brunette on the other side of a row of cars, on the phone. “Oh! And if you don’t call me back and tell me what you want for dinner in the next half hour, I’m making lasagna.” Dia hung up and turned to shove it in her purse, but she didn’t get the chance. Several men dressed in dark clothes threaded seamlessly through the parked cars. One of them grabbed her from behind, one arm across her chest and the other hand on her mouth. Green eyes grew wide and the phone fell to the pavement. She struggled for a split second, then instinct kicked in when the guy who grabbed her started dragging her back to the van. Without giving him a chance to realize what she was doing, she slammed her elbow as hard as she could into the man’s stomach, causing him to cry out both in pain and surprise. As soon as his grip loosened, she ripped herself away and spun to face him, her gun already out of the holster strapped to her thigh under her dress and pointed at his chest. Before she got a chance to pull the trigger, two more men were grabbing her elbows, one with his other hand over her mouth and one grabbing for the gun. Dia screamed against the man’s hand, struggling to get free. After a moment, the gun fired, followed immediately by a scream of pain.

 ”FUCK! MY FUCKING FOOT FUCK!!” The camera didn’t move, but in the corner, the man who’d initially grabbed her was struggling to stay upright.

"Fuck this." Another voice said. A fifth man approached Dia and the two holding her from behind, and used something that couldn’t be made out on the camera to hit her on the back of the head. The two men holding Dia let her fall unconscious to the pavement, the gun landing next to her phone. "Get the bitch in the car."

Scarlett walked briskly from her apartment building, down the streets of LA. She’d been cooped up in that residence for far too long, and she simply needed some fresh air to make her thoughts feel sane again. If that were even a possibility at this point. Nothing around her really seemed sane anymore. Not her friends, not her family, not even her enemies. Things had taken a much more serious turn when Trevor and Winny’s wedding was supposed to take place in Italy. Both sides seemed to realize that they were no longer just playing at a game anymore. This was business, and there were no grey areas in who would come out on top. Either the Cohens would remain reigning, or the Kings would take their spot back on the throne.

So much pressure could honestly get to anyone, though the public of LA seemed oblivious. They still thought that the fighting was something light and fun, something to tweet about, and take pictures of. The deaths that occurred didn’t truly impact them, because they never knew them for people. They saw them as things to look at. Something that’s easily replaced. It’s what happened with all celebrities. Sure there was a short period of mourning, and saying they will never forget. But then their attention is grabbed by the next big thing, and every word once spoken is now long left in the past as though it never really mattered.

It happened with Trevor, it happened with Carol, and it almost happened with Mia. Luckily, Trevor’s death was a sham, and Mia’s never had the opportunity to come about, but the idea that they could be so easily swept under the rug as though they’d never mattered, bothered Scarlett. And yet, she could easily be blamed for the same thing when it came to the death of her family’s housekeeper. Ever since she learned of the death of the woman, she’d never really spoken of it since. There was the breaking of the news to both Mia and Kora that she had had to do, but actually talking about it? No. She didn’t even talk about how her brother had actually ended their fathers life after holding him captive for several months. Maybe it was the finality that scared her, that she knew they were never coming back. Or maybe it was because she had an inkling of an idea that it had been her brother who caused the fire for their mansion and brought upon the untimely death of their favorite employee. Admitting how far over the edge her brother had gotten would only also admit how wrong she was for remaining by his side.

Shaking her head, she tried desperately to let these thoughts fly from her head. Too much thinking of such dark thoughts, got you nowhere good in life. If only things could go back to how they used to be, before her siblings had taken over. Though she’d never admit it out loud, she had actually enjoyed her time as a King employee. Things were easy, and she had her whole family with her without half the drama she carried around these days. But things had changed, and she knew that even if the Kings did take back what had once been theirs, it wouldn’t go back to how it had once been. She’d be killed on the spot for her part in their first take down, not to mention that they all simply hated her.

Sighing, Scarlett looked around the street she had just turned down, now beginning to realize that she didn’t even know where it was that she was going. Her mind was too busy thinking of things that she was trying so hard not to think about, that her body just seemed to have gone in to autopilot. But now that she allowed herself a moment of clarity from her troubling thoughts, she began to realize that she was getting an uneasy feeling with where she had ended up. Something wasn’t quite right, and although the street she was walking down seemed nearly abandoned, she couldn’t help but feel as though their were eyes cutting through her at this very moment.

Of course, there was the never ending watch of the paparazzi that she had now grown familiar of, but this was a different feeling. Quickening her pace, she looked around the street once more before she turned down a side street that she was sure would lead her out to a more crowded part of the city. As she came to about halfway, however, she knew that the feeling she had was all too correct.

A person stepped out from behind a darkened building, his face covered and unrecognizable for the time being. Subconsciously she began wishing that she had brought her gun with her, though she knew she was still capable without it. Continuing forward without a hitch in her step, she came closer to the unknown man without any trace of fear in her stride. She knew how to take care of herself, she’d known how to for years. If this guy tried anything, he wouldn’t make it away without at least one broken bone in his body.

Suddenly, another man stepped out from behind the building, dressed similarly and without any way of identifying him. Okay, so there were two now. A little bit more of a challenge, but definitely doable. She was the great Scarlett Cohen after all, and even though she had the beauty of a rose, she also had its thorns which knew how to draw blood. Walking still in the direction of the men, now only ten feet in front of her, she felt her step waver as finally three more men stepped out from the same spot, all looking at her with what she could only imagine must be sinister smiles beneath their hidden faces.

Five men total. Only one of her. She began strategizing quickly while she walked on towards her fate. That one looked skinnier, weaker than the others. She would leave him for last since he was the least threatening. She would have to take the biggest one down first which looked to be the one who had stepped out second. Her seconds dwindled as she tried to figure out how she could escape this when finally her time was up and she found her path being blocked by the group in front of her.

"Boys." She said, as though they were friends meeting by appointment rather than strangers by chance. Without even allowing a moment of hesitation in between, she made her move towards the biggest of the group. She lunged with her hands extended towards his throat, grabbing hold tightly and kneeing him in the groin to make him double over. Hands were already at her, releasing her from the man she had attacked and attempting to hold her down as another brought a cloth near her face. But she wouldn’t be captured so easily.

Using her nails, she scratched at the ones who were currently holding her, letting her legs kick out at whatever she could come into contact with so that they fight inflict pain. Now having to support the girl as well as endure the injuries she brought upon them, one of them men let go and stepped back, trying to catch his breath and regroup. It was all she needed to twirl around out of the way of the man who tried to bring the cloth to her mouth, and swing her arm so that it connected with the back of the man who was still holding her’s elbow. A sickening crack let out, and a cry of pain escaped the man as he dropped his hold on her to cradle his broken arm.

The first man she had attacked was fully recovered and ready to help his brothers out, though clearly much more intelligent and approaching her with caution. She readied her stance, keeping her eyes on him as the others still seemed to be recovering from the injuries she’d already inflicted on them. She could still get out of this alright, and she hadn’t even so much as received a scratch from any of her attackers.

Next thing she knew, the man was barreling towards her, knocking her off her feat and landing on top of her so that she was pinned between him and the ground. Kicking and shoving, she tried her best to get out from underneath him, but the effort was futile. Finally she felt her hands being held down but two of the men on either side of her, her legs held down by one. The fifth and final man, the one whom she had broken his arm, was slowly coming towards her. He held the cloth that the man at her feet had once held, and swooped down on her with it pressed firmly to her nose and her mouth. Though she continued to struggle under the weight of all five of them, she couldn’t go on without taking a breath, and ultimately giving in to the fumes that were hidden in the cloth. The struggle was over, and Scarlett Cohen was packed away in the back of a truck that waited on the other side for all of them.

Taking a walk in the dark had never exactly seemed like a good idea, granted Livvie wasn’t afraid of the dark. Monsters came out no matter what time it was, the dark just brought out the cowards with them. But she needed to get out of the house. With only Jesse there she felt as if she was invading his privacy- like a burden. If there was one thing Livvie hated to feel like, it was that. 

Wrapping her jacket around her small frame, Livvie continued walking, keeping her head down and hoping no one would recognize her. It was what she was accustomed to doing since she was a child and Lorraine had cut off most of her long hair in order for Livvie to remain anonymous in the crowd and not a girl whose face was on a milk carton somewhere. 

It happened too fast afterwards for Livvie to fully understand what was going on.

A hand covered her mouth, she was dragged into a back alley, fear shot through her as she realized that this had to have been Trevor finally getting her for that talk. Her elbow shot out, hitting the man holding her on the nose as she struggled to get away. 

"Little bitch!" He shouted before grabbing her hair and pulling her back to him. Livvie screamed against his hand as it covered her mouth again, praying that anyone would come and intervene but no one did. Her eyes pleaded with the man standing in front of them holding up a camera phone, a vain hope that he might actually have a shred of pity in him.

"Smile for the camera." 

"Hello operator! Can you give me number ni-" Jack White’s voice cut through the lulling sound of pouring rain until a familiar call interrupted them both, “Yeah, yeah, alright Trev! I got it!” Steam fogged over the lens, blinding ones vision so that all one could see was a white rippling cloud. The environment trembled in response to the woman, zooming out to form the white handle of a shower door and the corner of a sink. But the fog continued to pour out from the top of the chamber and smeared over everything, making it harder and harder to see what you were even looking at. 

A man with a woolen facemask peered into the camera, wiping moisture from the glass then giving a little wave before he slipped out of sight. The clicking of heels on hard wood became louder the closer she got until she’d finally noticed the humidity that hung in the air from the running water. “Seriously? Look, I don’t dig the mixed signals, Trev so could you just-” Sierra entered the picture, furiously stomping forward to tear open the door when she realized there wasn’t a nude silhouette in the glass and she hadn’t been given a single response since she’d received his text. She was seconds away from grabbing one of the guns in the house and high tailing it out of there when two men blocked the view, darkness taking claim of the screen and leaving only her frantic protests.

“Get the fuck off me! Pathetic fuckin- FUCK YOU PRICK!" One of them stepped to the side, giving way to a sliver of imagery. Sierra had grabbed a bottle of cologne and sprayed it in their face, the man recoiling with a cry of pain before charging forward to capture her. As he tried to restrain her hands, she slammed the glass into his face,"I said fuck. You! He’s not gonna give in to your bullshit. You don’t hurt women we all know that!” She stumbled in her heels as she tried to push past them, another figure appearing in the doorway just in time for his fist to make contact with her face. Sierra fell backward and the figure that she’d injured simply tore the camera away.

The news broke fairly quickly and it felt like with every step Tanzie took, another girl she knew was gone. They were taken. The anxiety was crushing her and she was doing the best she could to just make it to a taxi. Running out of the parking lot of the mall, Tanzie turned a corner when suddenly a man stood a few feet away from her on the corner of the sidewalk. Trying to convince herself it was just a random person, she began walking in the opposite direction. Until she noticed him following. Quickening her pace, Tanzie turned another corner where she practically ran face first into the chest of a second man. Before she could say anything, his hands found their way to her upper arms and instead of screaming, she simply froze. "Tanzie Reed. You're coming with us." His words echoed back at her and grip tightened, suddenly the former runaway instinct inside of her was screaming at her to fight. Reaching into her pocket, she dug out the all too familiar pocket knife she carried. Though every instinct inside of her told her to run and scream, she closed her eyes and stabbed the small blade into the man's arm.

Red and black sequins glittering on flimsy outfits prancing on-stage.

Lights popping in and out of line, creating purple flashes behind closed eyelids.

Noises reciprocating, reverberating, and getting incessantly louder.

Dallas was working the night shift and everywhere around her there was commotion. When not on stage, there was a mess of girls fluttering in the back room. Outside on the house floor, men were clustered at tables or at the stage, ogling at the girls. The men with their red necks and sweaty brows, licking their lips, money hanging from their fingertips, it was just another night at the strip club arena.

There was nothing amiss, at least not at all to Dallas’ insight. When she wrapped up her act, she felt for the curtains blindly and stepped down, the vibration of applause still rattling her body from backstage. She came off grinning proudly; she had been tipped well tonight. She knew better than to count her cash in front of the girls who’d just glare in scorn. She was above that, and quite frankly she didn’t care to wave money in their faces. Since Scarlett and Winny had been removed from the true action of the dancers, she had assumed responsibility and she had also the added desire to maintain the functionalities. She stayed until the last dancer left. So she silently changed into her regular clothes at the end of the night, having packed her rewards in her purse. She walked out into the now empty house floor. The bar tenders were finishing up cleaning up as well. “Oh let me get that, I’m heading that way,” Dallas said, pointing to the trash bag they had. “You sure? Thanks Dallas, you’re a doll!” Said the bar tender.  Dallas grinned in response. “Goodnight, see you tomorrow!” And she slung the trash bag over her shoulder, heaving herself out into the crisp, autumn night.

She had dropped the plastic bag into the dumpster and let the lid clank shut, turning her back to it, when running into a hooded figure. He seemed like a jogger, caught off guard. “I..I..I’m sorry.” He stammered. “Oh, oh no. It’s okay! Are you okay?” Dallas wondered. “Yeah, just…you work here?” Dallas took a step back for comfort’s sake, folding her arms about her waist and nodding. “You looking for someone?” She further inquired. “Yeah, you.” A ghastly grin flashed across his face and the next thing Dallas knew was she was being tackled to the ground, cold metal pressed up against her cheek, the point of a knife glinting in her eye. She struggled for what felt like a long time until she was knocked out, cold.

Blackness surrounding her, the buzz of silence whirred too.

A familiar, graceful figure that stood at the height of 5’2” exited the Cohen famous strip club in Los Angeles out into an alleyway. Things were looking up, despite the rest of the girls continuing their complaints about their shifts dragging out far too long. Rolling her jade irises at the mere thought of their ridiculous nagging, Savannah retrieved a pack of cigarettes from her bag and lit up one she had selected from the many replicates inside of the box. All the while, in the corner of her eye she noticed a mysterious person roam about almost aimlessly. Brows furrowed and curiosity piqued. Who the hell is that? Savannah questioned mentally. Taking a few large steps from the spot she was glued in, the rather small brunette rounded around the corner, only to find a darkened, secluded area.

Nothing. Exhaling a sigh Savannah blew a puff of smoke out shaking her head to herself in dismissal of the quest. “He was probably another one of those people passing by,” A mumble emitted from her. Spinning around gradually, Savannah gasped loudly, but could barely make out a scream before a large hand clamped over her mouth roughly. “Shh, everything’s going to be okay,” The anonymous person spoke, his voice attempting to be soothing, but only an idiot would fail to recognize the slyness in this man’s tone. If there weren’t a blindfold being tied up over her eyes, then she would have taken advantage of the ability to find out who dared lay a finger on her in such a way, but unfortunately, the odds were far from in her favor tonight.

Her breath hitched in her throat, Savannah shifted around up until the point where she could get this man’s filthy hand from her face. Digging her teeth into his skin as much as she possibly could, blood began to trickle into her mouth. To her dismay, Savannah resisted the urge to let go and grin in triumph once he heard the telltale signs of pain. Cursing and hissing. However though, no matter how genius that small idea of hers was, the consequences were drastic and only caused those horrible childhood memories to emerge once again. 

With a bruising strike across her face, Savannah yelped out a bit. Feeling tears sting her eyes and prickle at them. No, she wasn’t going to cry, and she sure as he’ll wasn’t going to be kidnapped, either. But then again, what good was it to try and fight back? Without her ability to see, Savannah would only end up making a complete fool of herself by swinging at air and failing to take down her opponents.

Finding the capability in her to speak finally, Savannah boldly questioned her takers, “Who the hell are you people?” A crack in her voice diminished all of the previous boldness. Fear was gripping Savannah in a choke hold and helplessness was all she could feel in this moment. It was pathetic, really. Suddenly feeling a pair of hands gripping her wrists, a harsh texture wrapped around them, binding them together right afterwards, then finally, she received the answer to her previous inquisitive question, a cold chuckle following the vague, yet cryptic statement. “We’re your worst nightmare, sweetheart ” With that, Savannah was silenced by cloth being shoved into her mouth. 

That same harsh voice sounded a third time that disturbing night, “Now shut up and you won’t have to worry about getting hit again.” Being swept off of her feet, her ankles followed suit in the exact same fate as her wrists. Allowing the tears to streak down her face now, Savannah desperately prayed to the gods above that she would make it out alive of this horrid situation, and above that, her loved ones were going to be okay, as well.

Eyes beginning to droop, a realization had dawned on the 23 year old Cohen loyalist. The cloth they gagged her with was soaked in chloroform. Banging her balled up hands against the man who was carrying her, Savannah screamed, but her cries were muffled and were heard by anyone else nearby to no avail. After a few minutes, her ministrations had faltered and her strength weakened. 

After parking her car on Main Street in front of a small cafe that had long since closed for the night, Kora made sure to slip two quarters into the parking meter, giving her just enough time to be in, out and on her merry way before the timer had the chance to reach zero. Skirting through the side streets of downtown Los Angeles, all the necessary supplies in hand, Kora wove her way in and out of the narrow alleyways that smelled freshly of rotting garbage and excessive pollution. She’d walked these roads hundreds of times, had them practically memorized down to the incessant locations of pot holes the size of small children and even the number of street lights that were burned out that the city had never bothered to replace. Kora’s heeled boots clicked against the pavement, the sound largely masked by the honks and sirens of traffic a few streets over. It was a busy night but people in the city wouldn’t pay any attention to her. In fact, they wouldn’t even notice her. Which was precisely the point. By the time they realized what had happened and what she had done Kora would be long gone, laughing as she drove away from the scene of the crime, just as she always did. 

The deeper she got into the outskirts of the city, the quieter things got. It was near silent aside from the occasional crunch of the freshly fallen leaves against the asphalt — the only tell tale sign that summer was ending and fall was on it’s way. The nighttime air was still damp and sticky, despite the late hour and the humidity blanketed the city like a thick cloud. It was by no means a decent night for a fire, but Kora didn’t have time to wait for the weather to cooperate. Christian’s life was on the line, and if Kora didn’t do something, she wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself. Not when him being captured and possibly killed by Trevor was likely her fault in the first place. Putting the thought in the back of her mind, Kora now turned onto 3rd Street. The warehouse she was looking for stood eerily on the far corner, set back away from the other buildings, looking as dingy and unused as it always had. Kora’s shoulders slumped slightly, realizing this probably wasn’t where Trevor was keeping Christian but Kora decided to try anyway. 

Approaching the side door, Kora cautiously looked over both of her shoulders, checking to see if the coast was clear. Little did she know, she wasn’t the only one who was looking for something. Two males, both of which knew of Kora despite her having no knowledge of them, crept inconspicuously down the street. The wheels of their black SUV crawled across the black top in a slow, stalking manner, crunching stones and other small debris that lie in it’s wake under it’s immense weight. The two had been keeping their eye on Kora for the past few days, no doubt quickly catching onto her night time patterns of sneaking out and burning down any place that was fit to keep hostages, more specifically, places fit to keep hostages that belonged to Trevor Cohen. Putting their car into park a little ways away from where Kora now stood, the pair sat idly inside. Watching. Waiting for her to let down her guard.

Pulling the long nosed bolt cutters out of her inside jacket pocket, Kora maneuvered the device around the lock, clamping down on it hard before sending pieces of the fragmented metal clambering towards the ground seconds later. Yanking open the door and shuffling inside, Kora switched on the lights, the bulbs buzzing and flickering before illuminating the room entirely. It was empty. She groaned in frustration, her hands clenching tightly around the bright red gas cans that she held in each hand. This was the third time she’d come up with nothing. Kora was starting to question if Trevor was keeping him in a warehouse at all. 

Within minutes the meager contents  the warehouse held were drenched, the pungent smell of gasoline burning Kora’s nostrils yet satisfying her in the smallest of ways. A crooked smile inched up onto her face as she tossed the empty gas containers aside and made her way back towards the entrance. Stepping back in the doorway, Kora admired her handy work and the structure one last time while it was still standing. She could recall doing quite a handful of jobs at this particular warehouse. One time stood out more than others, transforming her sly grin into a softer, more sincere one at the fondness of the memory. 

Parker had kept Kora at work all day, sorting through one of the largest shipments they’d ever received from south of the border. They’d both been busy all day, up to their asses in work, as had many of the other workers. Carol had showed sometime after eight p.m., bringing Parker dinner since naturally, when he was working he neglected to do anything else… eating included. Lucky for Kora, Mia had tagged along. She’d had her own reasons to be stressed out that day, something likely involving a paparazzi stunt or a disaster at the nail salon, but the next thing both of the girl’s knew they were huddled together in the janitorial closet sharing a crappily rolled joint. They were hardly the type to turn to drugs, but they figured once wouldn’t kill them. Especially not when there was clearly so much of it, a tiny bit wasn’t bound to be missed. When Parker caught on, the potent fumes and smoke leaking out from the crack at the bottom of the door and their fits of coughing echoing in the background, no doubt giving them away, he yelled so loud Kora would have swore deaf people in Russia could have heard him. 

It felt good to remember something like that with everything else bad weighing on her mind lately. A distraction, no matter how small, was definitely needed at this point. And the guys who had been watching her from afar, couldn’t have agreed more. Just as Kora pulled her lighter out of her pocket, a hand dressed in a black glove snaked around her face, and covered her mouth. It was happening again. This time, almost like it was in slow motion. Kora yelled, her scream turning into nothing more but a muffled sound behind the man’s grip. She tried to wiggle free, shooting her elbows backward as her body wrenched violently from side to side, as she shook him off. He was strong, but the memories of the two times she spent being being held hostage within the past six months came shooting back into the forefront of her mind and that only made her fight back harder. She refused to be helpless again. If she was going to be taken, she was going to go down swinging. Being a victim again was simply not an option. 

Kora didn’t know who had sent him, although her first guess would have been Trevor. But between the fleeting images she caught of him through the whirlwind of her dark hair and attempted sideways swings, Kora didn’t recognize him. He could have been new, but he also may have been working for the Kings. Although Kora figured they had next to no reason to come after her now, after releasing her on half way decent terms less than a week ago, it was still possible. They did still hate her, after all. Tossing her head backward quickly, Kora connected with the man’s face. The crack of his nose shattering seemed to project outward into the night, along with the string of curse words he spat out immediately afterward. When he released her, Kora ran. She had little to no air left in her lungs, all of it being used up in her exertion to break free. But down the alley she went. And unfortunately for her, she had chosen the wrong way. 

Mia lay back on her sister’s couch, LJ resting peacefully on her stomach as she stared up at the ceiling. It was the same spot Mia had been lying in for the past few hours. She hadn’t seen her sister for most of the day. Mia had figured she was out running errands for Trevor or something of the like. Her gaze lifted to the kitchen counter where Mia immediately took notice to the set of car keys on the counter. A mischievous smile cross the young blonde’s face as she turned her gaze back towards the sleeping puppy, “Scarlett won’t mind if I take her car again, right?” Mia whispered softly, not wanting to wake the tiny fur ball, “I didn’t think so either.” Lifting the tiny puppy off her stomach, Mia moved slowly and quietly over to his crate and gently placed him inside before closing the door. Running back over towards the kitchen, Mia snatched the keys off the counter and stuffed them in the pocket of her leather jacket. Pulling on a simple pair of black heeled boots, Mia waved good bye to her sleeping puppy one last time before quickly exiting the apartment. The last thing she wanted was for her sister to come home and force her back inside.

The car park was relatively empty aside from a few vehicles scattered around. Scanning the lot, Mia let out a frustrated sigh as she saw the spot her sister had parked her car, “You would pick the furthest spot, Scarlett.” Mia said quietly to herself. Walking across the paved lot, Mia’s footsteps echoed throughout the deserted lot. A few feet from the car, Mia stopped walking and stood perfectly still. Whipping her head around, her eyes squinted as she scanned the lot behind her. She could have sworn she’d heard footsteps other than the sound of her own heels. Shrugging her shoulders, the youngest Cohen simply chalked it up to being locked in the apartment all day before continuing her trek to the car. Mia opened the door and quickly slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Slipping the keys into the ignition, Mia reached into her pocket for her phone before letting out another groan. Of she’d left her phone on the coffee table. After a quick internal debate, Mia decided having her phone was a much better idea than not having it at all. Removing the keys from the ignition, Mia stepped out of the car and started back towards the apartment building.

Her mind had been so preoccupied with grabbing her phone and getting out, her mind barely registered the fact that another person had joined her. As she neared the exit, Mia was stopped by a man she didn’t recognize. Her brows furrowed in confusion, eyeing the man suspiciously, “Excuse me,” Mia said, a twinge of annoyance in her voice, “I kind of need to get by.” The man offered a smile in return before his gaze shifted from Mia to something, rather someone, positioned directly behind her. Mia noticed him curtly nod his head and it was that it took for Mia to know what was about to happen. Her eyes widened as she quickly spun herself around, only to come face to face with another unfamiliar man with the same sinister smile. Mia didn’t have time to open her mouth to scream before the first man wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a cloth over her mouth. Millions of thoughts ran through Mia’s head, the first being who the hell were these people and what the hell did they want with her?

Mia knew for the fact that either side of the war would have gladly sent two men to torture the blonde. The Kings to avenge their friend, while Trevor was more than likely still pissed about what had happened in Italy. Mia didn’t recognize either of the men, which made her think this had to have been a surprise from the opposing side. Truthfully, Mia couldn’t think of a reason why taking her would really help them all too much, but she figured there must have been a reason she was simply unaware of. No matter, ever since her runaway stint, Mia had made a promise to herself that she wasn’t ever going to run again. She was going to fight for herself, especially if no one else was going to. Thrashing around as much as she could, Mia attempted to break free of the man’s iron vice grip. Unfortunately for the young blonde, her attempts at escape proved useless as she felt her muscles begin to weaken as the chloroform began to take effect.

As Winny left yet another clothing shop, a swarm of paparazzi were waiting outside to take her picture. She sighed. They were never rude or disrespectful to her, but sometimes she just wanted to go out alone and enjoy a relatively quiet day to herself. There were a few fans standing outside, all with iPhones and things they wanted signed. 

Bracing herself for what would be a pretty hectic exit, she put on her biggest smile and stepped outside. “Hey, guys!” She greeted warmly, immediately pulling in a group of teens for a quick photo. At the back of the small crowd that had formed, Winny noticed a familiar face. A tall guy, in his mid twenties, who was ridiculously handsome. Apparently, he was hardcore Team Cohen because Winny had seen him a lot over the last few days. So much that it would’ve been alarming if the guy looked remotely harmful. He had a camera, too, so she assumed he was just another paparazzi. After about ten minutes of signing and pictures, Winny decided that it was time to go. 

"Okay, guys, I’m sorry, but I have to get going!" Winny said apologetically, snapping one last picture with a fan before waving goodbye. Naturally, the paparazzi followed. Looking over her shoulder, the guy who looked familiar waved at her. She smiled, walking past all of the shops. As she continued to walk, the paparazzi began to leave, one by one, until eventually, it was just the one that stood out following her. Laughing a little as she entered the parking garage where she’d parked, Winny stopped abruptly and turned around. He stopped too.

"I’m sorry," she began, a little puzzled. "Are you following me?"

The stranger looked behind him, a little flustered, but just as confused as Winny was. “No…?” He began, chuckling a little. “I parked my car here.”

"Oh. Me too. Sorry. I just.. I’ve seen you taking pictures of me a lot this week."

"Gotta pay the bills," the man said, holding up his camera as he moved forward to walk alongside Winny. 

"Do the papers really pay that much for a picture of me?" She asked, raising a brow.

"You’re married to one of the most powerful men on the west coast, Winny. You’d be surprised.”

She smiled to herself, turning a little red as she stared down at her heels. “That would make sense,” Winny giggled a little, glancing down at the wedding ring on her left hand. “Hey, you never told me your name!”

"I know," he grinned cheekily, making his way towards the elevator and holding the door for Winny. "It’s Kyle." He pushed the button for the top floor.

"Kyle," Winny repeated with a nod of the head. "You’re one of the few paparazzi who aren’t complete assholes to me. Thank you."

Glancing over at him, she noticed that Kyle was biting his lip, watching the floor numbers closely. “Mhm,” he replied. “August 23rd, right?” 

"What?" 

"August 23rd. You and your husband got married on that day. Right?" 

"Yeah… why?" Winny asked, raising a brow. 

"Nothing. I just think it’s a little sad that you won’t be around for your one month anniversary."

"What are you talking about?" Winny all of a sudden felt uneasy. 

"You’re really fucking stupid, you know that, right? You trust people way too easily. I followed you around for days. Watched your every move. I made sure that you noticed me. And yet… you still managed to think that I was some innocent fucking paparazzi. Guess it makes sense, considering who you’re married to and all." 

She looked up at the numbers. There was still quite a way to go. Her hands were trembling, but she tried not to let him know that she was a little scared. As soon as the elevator doors opened, she’d run for it. 

"I found out some things about you. Like how daddy dearest pushed you into fucking guys. Question: do you still do that? I wouldn’t mind paying a few bucks for you to suck my dick. I also read up on your little love affair with heroin. It’s good shit, huh?"

The elevator doors opened, and Winny attempted to make a run for it. Grabbing her arm and jerking her back roughly, he twisted it. “Ow!” Winny cried out in pain, trying her hardest to pull away, though it only made it worse.

"Cute scars." Kyle grinned before lifting her up and carrying her towards a black vehicle parked right next to Winny’s. He really had been following her every move. She kicked and screamed, which only agitated him. "Let’s not make this harder than it has to be, yeah?" There was somebody already in the backseat of the car, waiting. Winny was placed in the passenger’s seat and buckled up against her will. 

She couldn’t believe this was happening. It wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. She was supposed to go home, to Trevor. She was supposed to try and cook him dinner for the billionth time in the row. He was supposed to taste it and pretend to like it just to make her feel better. This was not happening.

As Kyle rounded the car and got into the driver’s seat, Winny started sobbing uncontrollably. “Are you going to kill me?” She cried hysterically, running both hands through her hair. What if this was it? Or worse… what if she was being sold again? All of a sudden, she started flashing back to all of the times she’d been handed out like a piece of property and traded to other pimps by her own father. 

"Daddy, please don’t make me go!" Winny begged, falling down to the floor. "I don’t want to go to work tonight! Please!" It had only been her second time on the job, and she was already terrified. Sleeping with nasty, older men was traumatizing. Winny thought that if she ever got out of this alive, she would never be sane. She’d never be happy. 

"Get the fuck up," her father said, grabbing her hair harshly and lifting her up. 

"Ow! No! Daddy, please! I’ll be good! I’ll make good grades. I’ll do whatever you want, just not this!" She sobbed, holding onto the doorknob, hoping that somehow, it would keep her grounded. Her father effortlessly lifted her up and took her outside, dumping her inside of some stranger’s car. 

"Please! Please!" She screamed a little louder, unsure if they could even understand her through all of her sobbing. "I promise I won’t tell anyone who you are if you just let me go. I’ll tell you whatever you want. Please!" She begged, turning around to face the man in the backseat. "You have to tell him to let me go. Do you want Trevor to leave Los Angeles? We can go. I’ll tell him that we’ll go. Just don’t do this to me! Not again! Please!" 

"Shut her up, you stupid fuck," the man in the back ordered Kyle.