𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

09 || Slut

Song: Post Malone - White Iverson (slowed + reverb)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Nico

"She saved your life."

I turn my head and raise a brow at him. Was that suppose to mean something? Who said I wanted to be saved in the first place.

Sometimes people spewed shit that wasn't even worthy of a response and this was one of those times.

Ignoring him, I sit up in my bed and reach for the water bottle on my nightstand.

"No drugs or alcohol for at least two weeks."

I needed to stay sober for two fucking weeks.

This shit fucking sucked.

Sammy's annoying voice is still fucking going and I take a sip of the water before rubbing at my temples. If it weren't so hard to find a replacement, I'd kill him. "-She means well. She's innocent in all this."

I look up at him, "If we went around accounting for innocent souls we'd be saints. Now hand me my shit."

Reluctantly, he hands over the laptop, everything about his body language telling me that he doesn't want me doing this. But I wasn't in the habit of listening to others.

Especially not a dumbass like him. The son of a bitch had a soft spot for her. Scratch that-he wanted to fuck her.

And he could do that, after I was finished with her.

"I'm just saying that I think she could be of more use to us alive rather than dead." He speaks, moving forward and handing me a cigarette.

"I don't need another liability, especially not one that I think might get me somewhere." I signal for him to lean over and light it for me and he does so.

Josiphina Dumont was a ghost. One that popped up in the NYU records about a month ago. And that's all I'd found after having my P.I look into it.

I couldn't let it go. I just had a feeling there was more to her that could be of use to me. And I was never wrong.

Sammy stands next to my bed, "I don't know, Capo." He scratches the back of his neck, the action exposing his pit stains and I want to roll my eyes. He was always so nervous. (Italian| boss)

I raise a brow, taking a drag of my cigarette. "You questioning my judgment?"

Sure he knew how to do his job but if he fucked this up for me, he'd be as good as dead.

I didn't need a coward.

I needed someone who knew their shit and could get it done.

And Sammy was adequate enough for me to keep around. Adequate enough for me to trust- to a certain extent.

He knew enough to get things done for me, but he didn't know enough to use as ammo. There was only one thing that made him a liability and that was the fact that he was given my name.

Not the Nico Blaine everyone knew. Not the Nico Blaine that was rumored to be working for someone in Rosso's close circle.