6 Chapter 6 - Gun Powder

Adria Ross had been many things in her life; she'd been the young, shy girl that only ever talked to her family; she'd been the popular girl everyone admired; things had changed, and she became the social outcast dragging around a shredded reputation; she'd surpassed that too and took to socializing like a butterfly…

Until everything went down the rabbit hole. She'd hit the kind of wall you could spend a lifetime climbing and still wouldn't be halfway over it. Getting out of that had been a painful journey, at the end Adria had been ready to live – except, shit had hit the fan so to speak and Adria learned to take on a new identity.

She became the mad bitch that stabbed her very first patron's eye out with a brooch. The only one crazy enough to scare the living daylights out of human traffickers.

She had this.

Adria swooped in, straddled the poor guy, and smacked his cheek so hard his head tilted to the side. An angry red handprint stood out on the pale cheek. It receded fast, too fast. A trick of the light, she told herself. Nothing more.

"Like it rough, big guy?"

He grinned at her, sharp teeth on display, a drop of blood smudged across his bottom lip. He swiped his tongue over it, grin growing impossibly bigger. Suddenly, his hands were curled around her biceps, smooth and warm. He tugged once. Adria's balance was ripped from under her feet, and she tumbled headfirst into his chest.

Her forehead throbbed – there was something hard beneath his blazer.

There it was.

"Like it rough, little girl?"

His voice was a low drawl rolling off his tongue, smooth but deep like iced whisky, so close to her ear Adria flinched back. She bit her cheek. The tanginess of blood filled her mouth.

She was Adria, the insane witch. She had stabbed a man's eye out, nearly choked him to death, and bitten his ear off. This was nothing, she could do it. No matter how intimidating the man could be. She'd be better.

Hedging her knees in the space between the chair and his thighs, Adria raised her body up, pressing in until their chests were pressed together.

"Someone told me if I whispered the right words in your ear, I'd get what I want."

Adria wrapped her arm around his neck. She tipped his chin up. Her hand trailed down, fingers playfully tugging at the lapels. The man threw his head back and laughed, his silver hair falling back to reveal the mean scar running down from his temple over his eye. His amber eye, dark molten gold. Adria sucked in air sharply.

He tapped their foreheads together; hot puffs of air caressed her cheeks. She inhaled harshly, smoked wood, mint, and cologne hit her nose. She might have a thing for his scent alone.

"Ricky boy tends to take on more than he can handle. Don't you think, lovely?" he whispered.

Adria swallowed. Mouth dry, she loosened her hold.

Come on Adria, you are above this.

"Think you can handle this, lovely?" Adria said.

He smirked, and oh if Adria did not just get major Klaus Mikaelson vibes. Oh, he was rapidly becoming more intimidating because Adria had her claw on the barrel of the gun and he knew she did, but he merely lifted an eyebrow.

Adria sent a prayer to whomever was watching their shit show.

The second she had the cold gun out and pressed to the underside of his jaw every man inside the room dropped everything they were doing. One man had the edge of his pants clutched around his ankles. They had their own weapons out so quickly Adria had to blink around the room, her brain glitching. She had no idea the fat pigs could move so fast.

The silver haired man chuckled, crossing his arms behind his head.

"Drop you guns, or I blow his head."

She glared at the men, sitting down when they complied, grunting, and insulting her every step of the way of course.

"Well, if you offer so sweetly darling," he chipped in.

Adria scoffed.

Step one had been accomplished. Ok. She totally had this. Except. Her mind wouldn't stop going around in circles, a little voice screaming at her that this was too easy, something had to give. Adria forcibly made herself focus. Second step, get Vicky. Not accomplished. Right, she should get on with it.

What would crazy Adria do?

Leaning closer to the annoying man she held at gunpoint, Adria licked a wet stripe from the hallow of his throat to his jawline. She bit his Adam's apple with a little too much spite. Sue her. Then, she sat back, made a show of making herself comfortable on his lap, and wagged her finger in the men's general direction.

The girls had scattered screaming, but Adria had made sure to catch the Hag's eye as she hobbled out. If Adria did not get out of the dump alive, she would make them go out of business.

"I thought I was supposed to do the assaulting," he muttered.

Adria felt the growing desire to punch him rear its ugly head to the forefront. She bit her lip, counted to ten, and switched her attention to the men in the room.

"Now boys, this can go two ways. You do as I say, and he keeps his pretty head on, or you do as I say. There's no fucking second option."

"So authoritative, darling. I like it."

Holy Saint and God, why did she ever think him attractive.

Adria regarded the sleazy bastards critically. One near the back was shuffling very obviously to the door. She raised the gun, stared pointedly at Mick, the second in command, and shot the fucker without even looking. Her shooting wasn't as accurate as it used to be. She had nicked his shoulder, what a shame – Adria might have been aiming for his head.

"Anyone else wants to disobey me? So blatantly too," Adria drawled.

She pointed the gun at Mick. He stepped forward. There was a shake in his hand, he tucked it away though when he noticed Adria staring.

"Micky, tell your boys to line up against the wall."

Mick gulped, shakily ordering his men to do as told. No one moved. Adria shot near his foot; the poor bastard jumped up. His voice gained volume and urgency. Ah, how beautiful. When Adria had gone through her first week, she'd discovered a little hobby the trash had; they liked to line the girls up, humiliate them one by one, and then fuck the unlucky gall in front of the rowdy crowd. On second thought, Adria shot his leg. He screamed like a pig at a slaughterhouse and rolled on the ground mindlessly.

Adria sighed.

So much fucking noise.

She pointed at Eddie, the only smart garbage in the lot of them, and he decisively stepped forward, kicked Micky unconscious, taking over the reins of command smoothly. Smart asshole.

Better.

"Eddie step forward," Adria paused, watching him quietly, "you are smart Eddie, smarter than every single fucker in here."

"I just know how to count some numbers, Miss."

No one had called her Miss since the first day she'd stepped in the compound. Her stomach lurched.

"He called you miss," the sucker beneath her whispered loudly.

Adria groaned.

She shot the wall, just because.

Eddie bowed his head humbly, taking a step back. It was this that made Eddie smart, he knew when to keep his head down. Adria would like to say he had a great survival instinct, but she couldn't. If he had, he wouldn't be in this kind of dirty business in the first place.

"And that's all I need Eddie, dear. You're going to get one of your boys to the roof," a shout of outrage emerged from the crowd, "and you're going to use your lovely skills to get someone down here. Preferably within the hour."

His gaze shifted warily from side to side. No one had permission to the roof. Except Ricky. They all knew who she wanted. The roof was still out of bounds. Despite her threat.

Adria sighed.

"Before I start shooting, Eddie."

"Oh Eddie, please don't do it. I love it when she starts shooting."

Adria smushed his mouth with her palm.

He scrambled into action, grabbing two of the younger boys.

"And Eddie, if there's any funny business you should remember I still have your boss at gunpoint."

He nodded sharply.

Good dog.