Anarchy [h.s]

Chapter 11 ✶ Hypnotizing glimpse

"I'm the fox you've been waiting for."

Song of the chapter:
Cherry Bomb by The Runaways

I pass the steaming kitchen with a head full of aching concerns.

Zayn will be crossing state lines any minute now with a truck full of coke and guns. If he gets caught, or if the engine stalls, we're beyond fucked.

And if it goes well, and the shipment is completed, then I guess we're just running drugs now.

That's what we've become.

Victor doesn't care about anything anymore, and there's nothing I can do about it.

I didn't even vote for running guns, I thought it was a bad idea that would end with us in handcuffs. It was supposed to be temporary, and now everything has just spiraled out of control.

We're killing people, there's brewing tension with Redwood's that will only lead to even more death, Sam is gone, and Victor can't see past his anger.

It's all fucked.

Different chaotic kitchen talk travels over the air as I slam my hands against the aluminum door leading into the overcrowded bar. I step through the threshold feeling a headache bloom at the base of my skull.

The disordered atmosphere around me only increases the further I walk. It reeks of alcohol, the dim orange lighting creates a dull soreness behind my eyes, and the song Cherry Bomb by The Runways blasting through the room is barely audible by the exaggerated shouts of drunk men.

It's officially reached that point in the night where everyone here is obnoxiously drunk.

I knew adding that fucking song to the soundbox was a bad idea, but no, Ace thought it would be so fucking ironic.

Not wanting a single person to interrupt my path, I keep my eyes glued to the scuffed leather boots on my feet.

I'm not in the mood to even have a conversation, let alone with some drunk bloke. I just need some rest, if I can even fuckin' fall asleep.

I am mere inches away from disappearing down the employees-only hallway when the last voice I wanted to hear tonight travels through the room piercing my ears.

"I'm the fox you've been waiting for!" Iris loudly sings along with the song playing.

My body reacts before my brain does and my feet halt, freezing me in my place. I stiffly turn my head towards the bar.

Iris stands tall on the sleek bar top towering over a group of drunk strangers like a sparkling rockstar performing for a sold-out arena.

The orange lighting illuminates otherwise unnoticeable gold streaks in her brown hair, the olive green of her eyes is vibrant, and the freckles sitting pretty over her nose are visible from across the room.