Facade

35|| consequences

Song : favorite crime - Olivia Rodrigo

~ Gabriel ~

There's a reason that anger is my favorite emotion of the few I posses.

It's because moments of anger are extremely powerful and very fucking dangerous.

Anyone angry enough can be capable of the worst things possible, things that "moral" people wouldn't even have nightmares about. Shit that can be considered pure fucking evil.

That is my definition of power the way it is my definition of danger, yet that's not even near the most dangerous part of anger.

The most dangerous part is that once you're done with that anger, you're left to deal with the aftermath.

Every choice has a consequence, but anger simply makes consequences unimportant.

I'm powerful and dangerous on my own despite my age, consequences rarely impacting my decisions.

So right now, engulfed by a fit of rage, no consequence could dim the anger that I'm walking into this well known, shithole feeling.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" I yell, gaining the attention of the men around minding their own business, playing cards and drinking liquor in the underground.

Chris' father slowly looks up at me from his seat at the main card table by the back corner of the room, not even asking what I'm talking about.

He already knows. This was his doing.

I knew from the second I heard the first shot and watched the kid run from the scene. He wore a Halloween mask, one that only covered his face, yet the familiar tattoo snaking up the side of his neck gave away his identity.

The marking of our empire.

The kid wasn't even diligent enough to wear a mask that covered it.

That alone made me angry. But the fact that it was in broad daylight, done by some kid without clearing it with me? Not even a heads up?

Anger didn't cut it.

"He was a rat." The slimy bastard answers cooly, looking back at the cards in his hands. He doesn't even offering a further explanation as to why he ordered to kill someone without running it by me first.

"So you put out a hit on him without permission on a local street before sundown?" I snap, snatching the hand he was dealt and throwing it, the cards all landing spread out behind me.

His jaw remains heavy and his demeanor remains stiff. "I don't need your permission because I don't answer to you."

"Don't you?!" I snap back immediately, complete outrage laced in my tone. "Jesus, who made you fucking right hand?"

While I'm not even a little surprised by his antics, I'm still incredibly pissed.

He went over my head as if he has the right to, used a stupid kid instead of a trained shooter and didn't even tell him to wait til dark or choose a secluded location.

All of that is reason to be angry, but it's not the cause for my blinding fit of rage that I ran straight here with.

It's not even because I happened to be there when the shots were fired.

It's because she was there too.

The idiot stands to his full height, failing to reach mine by two inches. It just accentuates who's really in charge. Well, to everyone else here with half a brain and a fucking clue.