Roan stood on the Brooklyn Bridge over the East River. Disappointment made his mouth taste papery and dry. He gazed out at Brooklyn, she was still his. But he had expected more from Spot Conlon, he wasn't quite sure why. He had hoped that maybe this time, it'd be a thick, killing fight. But no such luck.
Roan led a charmed life. Everything came to him easily, too easily. So every time he won, he resented it. He was a warrior. He needed to push himself to the absolute brink, to feel like he was so alive he was almost dead. This need drove his life like coal in a steam engine. He couldn't stop himself because if he did, that's when the demons would come. Roan's greatest enemy was his mind. Every time he paused, his thoughts came charging in and began to gnaw on his insides. So he never paused. He kept chucking shovelful after shovelful of burning coal into the engine. The flames were leaping, the controls were squealing, and the wheels were screaming across the tracks.
What happens to a runaway train? Roan shuddered involuntarily. Then he turned and walked hurriedly away. He had places to go, people to see. He wasn't a person; he was a force of nature.
"Get up!" Ugly was yanked from her shadowy dreams into clear reality. Her eyes focused to find Kyro standing over her. His face was pale and strained, even more so then usual. "You need to get out of here," he said. He grabbed her arm below the shoulder and pulled her to her feet. Ugly's head was cloudy and she stifled the urge to lash out at him.
"What's…" she mumbled something incomprehensible, too groggy to think straight.
"You need to leave," Kyro repeated.
"What? Why?" Ugly asked, starting to come to. There was a strange urgency in Kyro's voice, coupled with a distance foreign to Ugly.
"Roan…well, he heard something about you and…that Conlon boy. He shot Cru." Ugly felt like she'd just had a bucket of ice water poured on her. Her body was cold and heavy. Kyro avoided her eye.
So Roan knew. "Where is he?" She asked. Kyro didn't respond. They both knew. Ugly felt herself begin to panic. She was losing control of her breathing. Was she dying? "Where can I go?" She asked desperately.
"Just don't tell me," Kyro responded, coldly. His response hit Ugly hard. Now she knew the lay of the land. Sure, he had warned her, but she could expect no favors from him. He was on Roan's side. Up until now, she had been, too. It was the only safe place to be.
Ugly was afraid, and her fear turned to anger. She glared at Kyro. What once was, was now lost. Their friendship, their relationship…it all meant nothing. Just like that. Anger crackled inside her and she turned to leave. "Good bye, Kyro," she said, slamming the door behind her. As usual, he was silent.
She was halfway up the block before she realized she was only wearing a button down t-shirt and boys underwear. The darkness crawled around her, filled with unfamiliar faces. She continued walking, trying to ignore the growing fear that seized her limbs and choked her throat. She needed something, anything to get her through.
And that was when he came to her. His gold-lit eyes flashed through her mind as exquisite as a vision, and she felt herself calmed, in spite of everything. Her relief was short lived. Her stomach immediately plummeted through the floor as she re-realized the significance of what had caused her pain in the first place, Roan knew.
Her bare feet pounded across the dirt road, her body strained with superhuman effort as she ran toward the docks. She dodged people on the street like they were pieces in some great obstacle course. She ran like a hero to her love.