Deep Desire (Yandere! Gang Leader x Reader)

~seventeen~

Mood: Determined, Angry

~~~~~~~~~

Charles installed a lock on the outside of your door. More than just a precaution to make sure you didn't escape, the lock was some sort of symbolism for his ability to protect you. His mind was racing about it most of the time.

Regret. Everything the mogul did was fueled by it. Fear of repeating mistakes—dwelling on his failures was what brought him to where he sat today. Or rather, where he stood outside of your door. Nothing could repair the damage he had done already, but he could use prevention until his heart gave out.

To be honest, it was hard to think about Camille and not get angry. But today, he just took a deep breath and focused on his current situation. He had you, and for him, that was the only thing that mattered.

Charles walked off, chest out and shoulders high.

Enrique's eyes glinted in sinister intention. An ample opportunity with a minor barrier.

Throughout all of the years that Enrique worked with Charles, this was one stance that he could never wrap his head around—how he could love someone like you. An opportunist and scavenger alike, the vulture stopped asking questions and continued on, twisting the doorknob with a knife in the other hand.

Unfortunately, Charles wasn't as idiotic as he though he'd be. He rattled it.

"Charles?" You called out, flinging the covers off of your body. The shaking stopped.

A whisper of a man's curses traveled under the door, but that was the only reply. Footsteps stomped down the hallway, away from the room. You moved to the door.

Whoever it was didn't matter, it wasn't opening for you either. It was definitely unlocked on your side.

Too exhausted, mentally and physically, you decided to just leave it for now and head back to bed, using the warm and soft sheets as your only form of comfort.

Bobby pins, knives, cards—nothing would unlock this stupid door. The vulture had already tried the most discreet ways he could use to break into a room. He was considering ramming at one point, but he would be caught immediately. He had to be patient.

He stormed away from the room yet again, throwing the sewing needle onto the ground. He was running out of time. Charles would come over to check on you at any given second. If he knew anything by his past threats, his response wouldn't be very merciful.

Enrique had even went so far as to tip off Don and his men about who you were. His hopes that you'd be gotten rid of crumbled underneath the weight of Don's lifeless body. That would be the last time you'd ever disrupt the what he wanted—needed, almost.

He gave up, moving around the area to find any thing else that may help him get you out of that room. At least get him inside. But had you already fessed up to Charles somehow? He hoped your relationship wasn't strong enough to be that tight knit, and that the arguments you just had were enough to give him some time.

The vulture's mind went to the knife attached to his side. There would be no escape.

Enrique tried desperately to pry the hinges off of the door, but the metallic structure was stronger than the crowbar he had just grabbed. But then, an idea popped up in his mind.

He took the crowbar away from the hinges and positioned it against the doorknob. He banged the crowbar against it, carelessly forgetting about being discreet.

Inside, you were sat on the floor against the other side of the bed frame. There wouldn't be much that you could do if Enrique managed to get inside, but all that you banked on was that he would be stupid enough to leave the door open and simultaneously search the bathroom first. Then, you'd run.

Of course it was Enrique, she didn't need to be a detective to know that. His motives were clear, and he had definitely done this prior. But he was a ticking time bomb—there was no telling what he'd do if he got a hold of you.

The doorknob came off with one final, flail swoop and Enrique smiled with delight. The knob on the inside of the door fell on the floor as well, alerting you in the process. You crawled under the bed and watched the door, anxious.

Enrique kicked the door open, but was pushed back almost immediately. Not enough to knock him off his feet, but enough to crash into the wall next to him. He stared face-to-face with Charles, who did not seem happy.

Enrique clutched the knife behind his back. If he attacked Charles, he would need to be extremely accurate and overcome the man's strength and the added height against him. But if he did attack him, would that mean that his little woman would be fair game? He was quicker than Charles. He could get to you before Charles could even blink.

But nothing could compare to the adrenaline in Charles' body.

Charles made no hesitation before he punched him in the stomach. Enrique let out a grunt before falling onto the floor below him, his hands catching him for support.

Charles looked under the bed, where your wide eyes stared back at him. His face showed nothing other than boredom.

You looked down to see Enrique desperately gasping for air, a clean knife on the floor at his side. You looked back up at your protector.

"Charles?"

He slammed the door closed and you flinched.

"Should I even ask?" Charles asked, the shadows of his lower half moving against the light spilling under the door. You stayed under the bed, cautious and fearful.

"Chief, it's not what it looks like."

"Do you think I'm stupid? You think that I didn't know you'd be here as soon as I left this door?"

The silence was louder than any other response.

"And to think of all the things that I've done for you."

A bloodcurdling scream rang out, the yellow light from the hallway now reflecting against a deep red. The scream was soon transformed into choking. One of the shadows convulsed. The other stood unnervingly still.

"This is your payment to me for the mistakes you've made."

Another muffled scream.

"Nobody touches her. Nobody except for me."

The choking stopped, as did the convulsions. You stayed still, hand over your mouth. Blood seeped into the carpet; your tears did the same.