Met The Devil

Cephus' POV.

"For the last time, Vincent, where is my money?" I pointed the gun to the trembling man who is owing me a hefty amount of money.

Vincent's eyes widened at the sight of the gun. He stuttered, trying to come up with an excuse, but I wasn't having any of it. I needed that money, and I needed it now.

I tightened my grip on the trigger, watching Vincent's every move. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. My eyes lit up at the sight of it.

But then I noticed something strange. The bills were stained with blood.

"Where did you get this?" I demanded, my voice rising.

Vincent hesitated before finally confessing, "I... I did a job for someone. They owed me money and paid me in this."

I felt a chill run down my spine. Vincent was involved in something far more dangerous than just owing me money. And now I was involved too, just by association.

But I didn't care, I wanted my money and everyone knew I was not a cool man to deal with.

Vincent stuttered, "I-I'm sorry, Cephus. I-I don't have it yet. I promise I'll get it to you soon."

I sneered at him, "Soon? Do you know how long I've been waiting for this money? I have people to pay and they're not as patient as I am."

Vincent's eyes widened in fear as I stepped closer to him, the cold metal of the gun pressing against his temple. "Please, Cephus, give me more time," he begged.

I hesitated for a moment, considering his plea. But then I remembered how many times he had promised to pay me back and failed to do so. I couldn't let him get away with it again.

Without warning, I pulled the trigger and watched as Vincent's body fell to the ground, blood pooling around his head. I felt no remorse, no guilt. This was the life I had chosen, a life where violence and brutality were necessary to survive.

"Clean up this mess and pack those money," I instructed my men and walked out of the house to my car.

I sat comfortably, "Myra club," I ordered my driver and soon we were out of Vincent's building.

We got to the club in no time and I made sure to instruct the manager what I need for the night.

"Make sure I am not disturbed, unless I say otherwise, this meeting is important to me,” he nodded and left me to my clients.

As they began to talk, my eyes wandered around the club, noticing a few new faces, and I signaled to my boys to be on the lookout for any rival gang member.

But as I scanned the room, my eyes landed on a woman sitting alone at the bar. Her long, black hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, and her bright green eyes seemed to sparkle in the dimly lit room, looking like she has let them cry.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. Something about her intrigued me, drew me in. So I looked closely, then I realized she looked like her.

"Freya." I whispered, feeling floored.

So I stood abruptly, startling my clients, "Excuse me gentlemen, I'll right back," I said, walking in her direction, but as I got to the bar, she was no longer there.

I looked around, but she was lost in the crowd, so I got on the dance floor where I could clearly see she was drunk, but I needed to check if it was Freya.

"Hello," I finally got to her, but she seemed out of it, too drunk.

So I placed my hands on her hips and danced with her a bit before pulling her in for a kiss, I couldn't stop myself from getting.

The kiss was okay, but it was clearly not Freya, but I had to check on last thing, so I looked closely for her birthmark, the one that usually sit beautifully on the nape of her neck.

"Freya?" The strange woman whispered, slurring her words.

Disappointment hit me hard when I didn't find the birthmark, but I was ready to leave her to have her fun when she pulled me back.

"What is it?" I wanted to ask, but she opened her mouth and threw all over me.

"What the fuck?!" I shouted watching her drop to the floor like a sack.

My men surrounded me quickly, looking for any real threat, but I was disgusted by what I was covered in, "Get me a fresh shirt!" My voice boomed as I commanded on of the men.

As I waited for the fresh shirt, I couldn't help but feel foolish for thinking that woman could have been Freya. It had been years since I last saw her, and even then it was just a glimpse. But still, the memory of her haunted me, and I couldn't shake it off.

When the shirt arrived, I quickly changed and made my way out of the club, feeling like I needed a shower to get rid of the stench of vomit. 

"Carry her, she's coming with us," I ordered and got into my car.

As we got home, I noticed something was off and it quickly clicked, we've been ambushed so I made sure the girl was safe in the car and signaled to my men to get ready.

I got out of the car and pulled out my gun, ready for a fight. My men followed suit, and we took cover behind the nearby vehicles, waiting for the attackers to show themselves.

After a few tense moments of waiting, they finally made their move. Gunfire erupted in the air, and I could hear the sound of bullets whizzing past my head. I returned fire, my shots hitting their targets accurately.

The attackers tried to retreat, but my men and I pursued them. We chased them down the streets, firing our guns relentlessly until they were no longer in sight.

Breathless and covered in sweat, I made my way back to my car, where the girl was still waiting for me. I opened the door and pulled her out, carrying her in my arms.

I took her inside my house, where I laid her down on my couch and examined her more closely. She was still unconscious, but she seemed unharmed.

With the anger still bubbling inside of me while looking at her face, I turned to my right hand man, "Draw up the papers, debts needs to be paid."