Divergent souls || 2

Twenty five

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE ⇆ ANGELINA
"This tastes like toothpaste that's all I have to say." Rowan hands me back my ice cream, i glare as i bite down on it, "It doesn't." I protest.

"It does, even the same color." He gestures at the mint chocolate ice cream in my hand, my glare just thickens and I take complete offense, "You're one to talk with the lame vanilla ice cream." I actually am enjoying how childish our interaction currently is.

It takes a lot of the weight on my chest away, after we landed back in LA I was hungry, and all my cravings aimed at ice cream, so here we are, in the nearest ice cream shop, bickering back and forth.

Those friends of his will supposedly meet us here too since Rowan saw this as a great opportunity since they're here, "Are you just trying to be different, Angelina? It tastes delicious at least." He defends and I gap.

"Sure." It's tasteless, i sigh exaggeratedly and go back to eating my toothpaste of an ice cream and ignore him, and try to do the same with my erratic heartbeats, Nicholas called again when I landed.

Confirming my suspicions and telling me that he indeed was stalking me, because the last text was one that said New York is dimming without you.

It's fucking clingy but it still made terror fill my bones at the fastest pace ever, "They'll help, I promise." Rowan assures when he notices my worry.

I nod, over and over, legs bouncing under the table with anxiety, that's currently prickling its way through my stomach but it vanishes when Rowan's phone rings, he answers it and moments after he ends the call he meets my eyes.

"They're here." He says, shrugging as he looks outside, sure enough, moments later, three men come into view, each one of them is different yet they all look like they belong to one place.

Jail.

Or Hollywood Movies.

The first one that comes inside is the most approachable out of them, which compared to normal people isn't considered approachable at all.

His black hair is perfectly tousled over his head, black eyes filled with something that looks like boredom, full lips, and a couple of tattoos peeking through his casual clothes, he looks like the models I work with on daily biases. Just more scary, later on I learn that he's the Ezekiel Petrov Rowan informed me about.

The next one that follows looks the most judgmental out of all of them, looking down at us through his arrogant nose, like we're bellow him, black hair messed on his head, finger raked, giving off the same vibe he gives, some kind of frightening Aura, but at the same time his features melted it away, with the sharp cutting jaw, high cheekbones, gray eyes, but most of all I felt in the air was that he radiated some kind of charisma, i both respected and was disgusted by it, the asshole's name is Alexander Romanov.

Oh, did I add that he can't stop glaring too?

Finally, the cherry on top, is one who looks quiet at his finest, but after a second, it seems as if he's mostly calculated, that's the only thing I get out of him, on the looks radar, he isn't less striking, his face is logically stunning actually, equally symmetrical, with the same high cheekbones and sharp jaw, but his eyes are glistening with bold dark blue, the last and the coldest one is apparently Romero Volkov.

All three men exceed six foot three, filling the colorful place with darkness I definitely didn't need today, they all take their seats beside us, "You need to make an entrance, don't you?" Rowan arches a dry brow.

Ezekiel raises a brow, "it's unintentional at this point." He shrugs nonchalantly, "It's not." Alexander says, With calmness that I didn't expect, I settle my eyes on the third guy, who's just watching all of us quietly, no emotion in his empty eyes, Jesus, who are these men? And where the hell did they come from?