Kyra Brown is an all-rounder; overly religious, beautiful, calm and smart.
After graduating from a college located in her hometown in Ohio, Canada she relocates to pursue her fashion designing career in New York where she unfortunately has to stay...
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C A S T I E L ᥫ᭡ If your old man wants you dead, then it doesn't matter the location. He said.
A bunch of dirty liars, he didn't want me dead but he hired a sniper to finish me silently, the only thing I regret now apart from being the one to finish off that d•ckhead is not present to see the look on pop's face when he finds out that I wasn't the one his blind sniper shot.
I glide sleekly in between a few vehicles before finally approaching my desired location. Brad's Bar.
Taking my helmet off and placing it on the motorcycle, I glance at my slightly bruised and dirty face. I looked like I was competing with a dumpster. But regardless, I brushed up a few strands here and there and I was finally good to go before hopping off and walking in.
On a normal note, I should establish the phobia and mistrust for bars or clubs but this one was Brad's and I trusted him with my life.
I try my best to ignore the league of drunk men and women arranged on different tables.
I grab a shot from a lady's table and she opens her painted lips to protest, I simply smile at her before gulping it down and dropping off the empty glass.
“Brad isn't here,” she speaks, tucking her hair behind her severely pierced and adorned ears.
I take a seat, amiss the worthless discussions and mumblings from their customers.
“Err...Sandy?”
“Sandra, but Sandy sounds okay,” she purrs, seductively biting her lower lip openly inviting mine — focus.
“Sandra, seems you've got a day off,”
“I’m waiting for Brad to start his shift, we haven't seen him —”
What is she talking about?
“Castiel?”
I whip my head over to see Brad, tying the apron behind his back tightly as he makes his way towards. I raise a brow at Sandra.
“Well, he just came,” she defended.
I ignore her and get up to meet Brad, “We need to talk,” I whisper.
“I know,” he responded, tilting his head to get a proper view of Sandra who was pouting in disappointment.
“Sandra, please cover for me, just a few minutes... I'll pay you when I get back,” he begs and she nods quietly before getting up to clear her table.
Brad leads me to the restroom without a word and locks the door after confirming if anyone was in.
I can read his angry expression and honestly, I’d do the same if I was in his shoes. I prepare myself for the moment he grabs my neck when I mention Kyra's sudden involvement in this.
