XIV

Amandla’ POV

With a half eaten chocolate clutched to my chest, I watch the road as we zoom past the other cars alongside us. Demon looks a bit better now, he has some colour in his face but the large purple bruise on the side of his face is now slightly swollen. I would be lying to you if I told you that he still looked like a supermodel with the bruise on his face, because he looks deformed and his face seems to look lopsided too.

I’ve been sitting in this suffocating silence with Demon for over an hour now and I still have no idea where we are going. I’ve tried on multiple occasions to find out where we are headed but Demon is as talkative as a corpse. I release a deep sigh before munching away once again at the chocolate bar. A warm sensation washes over my body as the sweetness of the chocolate lovingly embraces my taste buds. A smile involuntarily consumes my face as I continue eating.

“Does the chocolate really help with the shock?” when I hear the question, I immediately stop chewing and look behind my seat as if the voice came from there. I dramatically turn around to look at Demon with wide eyes, “Did you hear something?” I ask him, half jokingly.

Demon does not answer my question but rather rolls his eyes at my antics. I snort out a small laughter and take another bite of the chocolate before answering his question, “Yeah, I think it does. The chocolate just covers you like a warm hug that is filled with nothing but unconditional love.” I say, while wrapping my own arms around myself as if giving me a hug.

“Are you always this poetic when it comes to food?” Demon asks with his eyes trained on the road ahead of him. I am kind of shocked that Demon is talking to me right now, the whole ride he has been so silent that you would think that he didn’t have a tongue. Maybe the loss of blood and the unbearable pain that I imagine he is in is getting to him. Either way I don’t care, at least I can talk to him now.

“Of course, food in itself is a work of art and only critically composed words can be used to describe it.” I say in my most bougie voice that I can muster.  Demon does not say anything but I see a faint smile decorating his busted face. “So where are we going?” I try my luck again.

Without any hesitation this time around, Demon finally answers my question. “We are going to the Familia House; I need to speak to the boss so that we can find out who was behind all this.”

“I’m sure y’all have a lot of enemies so it could be pretty much anyone behind the attack.” I say matter of factly before leaning forward to turn on the radio. I need some music in my life right now.

The first radio station I turn to has Money by Cardi B playing. The beat at first plays softly, but I immediately raise the volume. I start rapping along to Cardi’s lyrics.

“I was born to flex, diamonds on my neck.” I throw up some gang signs as I sing along. “I like boarding jets, I like morning sex, but nothing in this world that I like more than cheques.” I bop to the beat while saying ‘money’ repeatedly. Just as I’m about to jump into the second verse, the song is suddenly changed. I shoot Demon an evil look, then dangerously glare at his hand that is on the knob to change the radio station. Before I can rip Demon’s hand off, an excited smile lights up my face as I recognize the next song.

“Fuck being good, I’m a bad bitch. I’m sick of motherfuckers tryna tell me how to live. R-“ the song is immediately changed again. “ come on now! That was Megan Thee fuckin Stallion! Why you changing the station?” as expected Demon just ignores me.

The next radio station seems to be a reggae hall station because Mr Boombastic begins to resonate throughout the car. Putting on my best Shaggy voice, I jump into the song with as much spunk as I can muster. “She says I’m Mr Ro-o-o-mantic. Call me fantastic. Watch me on da backseat, cause I’m Mr Ro-o-o…smooth. Just like a-“the nigga done changed the damn station again!

“What is your problem Demon?” I ask out frustratedly. My eyes are buggin at him right now. This nigga finna find himself with another boot print on the other side of his face if he continues with this shit.

“Those weren’t even the proper lyrics.” Is his only explanation. What? Is he the Lyric Police now? I don’t say anything but instead flare my nostrils out and glare out of the window. He legit just ruined my vibe.

Demon keeps changing the radio station every time a hip or trendy song comes on, as if he is scared that I will know the lyrics and try to sing along. He finally settles on the radio station playing some Taylor Swift song. It takes me a few seconds to recognize the song as Style.

“Oh what? You thought that this white shit would keep me quiet? Guess what bitch? I ain’t racist when it comes to my music, I will jam so hard to this Taylor Swift shit.” I say to Demon, before singing along to Taylor.

A whole minute goes by without Demon touching the dial. I stop singing to look at Demon. I find him looking at me with his mouth slightly agape. Its either he’s shocked that I know Taylor Swift’s song word for word or he is shocked that I can actually sing. I give him my best ‘whatchu looking at’ face, and that seems to successfully get him to shift his concentration back onto the road.

You have to understand that even though I am practically useless at almost everything, I take pride in the fact that I am a really good singer and dancer. My parents noticed at an early age that I sucked at a lot of things, so when they realised that I can sing and danced, they were quick to take me to as many classes to get me to be exceptional at the two. As shitty as my parents are, I am grateful for that much at least.

I lean back onto my seat and fold my arms, getting myself comfortable for the rest of the ride.

○•○•○

Finally after an hour of extra driving, we finally pull up to a large black iron gate. It seems to be an entrance to an estate that is perched up high in a mountain. The estate is covered with so many trees that from the bottom of the mountain there seems to be nothing but forestry.

Demon reaches out of his open window to press a button on the intercom. “Para sumergirse en los pozos de fuego del infierno, uno tiene que sacrificar un alma.” Demon speaks confidently into the speaker of the intercom. Not even five seconds later, the heavy gates swing open with a heavy groan.

The car slowly begins to creep up the long windy drive way. Like outside of the estate, there are rows of trees inside the estate, beautifully decorating the sides of the driveway. The moon is nowhere to be seen over the shrubs.

Finally after about a minute of driving, the car pulls up to a big ass house.  The size of the house along with the guards patrolling the perimeters of the building gives off the idea that the place is a fortress. After cutting the engine, Demon gets out the car and walks towards the grand double doors leading to the inside of the house. The douche doesn’t even wait for me.

Quickly scrambling out the car, I slam the door behind me and rush to Demon’s side. I catch up to him just as he swings the large doors open and steps into the grand foyer. I say grand because everything is just so fwancy, from the shiny marble floors all the way to the extravagant chandelier hanging from above. If I hadn’t been exposed to such luxuries my whole life, my jaw would have been dragging on the ground.

You must be wondering ‘what this bitch mean by “exposed to such luxuries my whole life”’, but I promise to explain to you later on about how I’m actually from a rich family but ran away to escape their oppressive clutches.

Back to the fancy foyer, before I can continue to analyse the room, a group of guys step into the foyer. It doesn’t take them long to acknowledge our presence because before I know it, they are making a straight beeline for us.

“Demon is that you?” one of the guys ask, with their eyes squinted at Demon’s face. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing.” Is the only reply that all the guys that are staring at Demon’s face got. Deciding to step in, I answer the question in Demon’s place.

“He tripped over a can of whoop ass, that’s what happened.” At my words, all eyes are on me. Everyone is looking at me like ‘who the fuck are you?’ while Demon is looking at me like ‘fuck you, I hope you die slow’.

I stick out my hand to the nearest man, “The name’s Jackson, Amandla Jackson.” My fake British accent is in high gear right now.

He looks at my hand before cautiously giving it a shake. I hold onto his hand long after the handshake is done and I can see the uneasiness creeping onto his face. Wait let me specify, his handsome face.

After prying his hand out of mine, I finally look around at all the other guys in the foyer with us. And boy oh boy are they good looking. They legit look like they just walked out of a fashion magazine, in their pristine crisp black suits.

“Bloody hell, why are you blokes so dashingly handsome?” I ask, unable to help myself, with my British accent still strong. I look around the group o men, occasionally throwing a wink or two at some of them.

“Oh so you British now?” comes the question from the top of the grand spiral staircase. I look up to find none other than Alex standing there with a tablet in his hand and a pair of glasses sitting crookedly on his nose.

“Alex!!” I yelp out. Without a second to waste, I elbow the guys out of my way and race up the stairs to Alex. Throwing my hands around his neck dramatically, I hang on to him and begin to fake cry.

“Alex why you gotta do me like that!?” I start, being all dramatic, “Why you gotta leave me with Demon. He’s such a..a..demon! He locked me up in a toilet! A fuckin toilet, can you believe that? But that is actually okay compared to the ultimate crime that this monster” I point an accusing finger in Demon’s direction, “committed. He got a pizza with no meat on it! I repeat, no meat! Oh the horror!”

Everybody watches my melodramatic monologue, while Alex stands as erect as a soldier with his head turned away from me. He looks so uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Alex tries to pry my hands off of his neck. When he finally succeeds he turns to look at Demon, who looks pissed by the way, and begins to address him. “We heard about what went down and Papa Pedro wants to meet so that we can discuss what to do next.”

It's all business again when I remember that I almost got killed today. Demon marches up the stairs and they disappear down one of the long hallways. Which just leaves me standing by myself on these stairs with a group of handsome guys that need to be flirted with.

If I can't marry Michael B Jordan, one of these fellas are going to do the trick.

°●°●°

Hey guys!! 😅

It has been forever and a half since I posted something.

I'm not gonna give any excuses so I'm just gonna apologise. I'm sorry y'all, I'm starting to finally get my groove back so 🤞I can keep my momentum 😁

I also want to say Thank you so much for all the support, I really appreciate it. 1k reads!!! What?!?! Y'all are stars 💖