Zuma Beach

Severa plopped down on the beach towel, her frustration evident in her posture. She hadn't even bothered to set up anything. She had been content with their spot until that asshole came along and forced them out. Rolling onto her back, she sat up and fixed Emma with an incredulous stare.

"What the hell?!" Her outburst made Jasmine flinch, but Severa didn't seem to notice. "Why did you two drag me away?!"

Emma exchanged a hesitant glance with Jasmine before meeting Severa's gaze. "We dragged you away because that guy was trouble," she explained, her voice tense with worry. "Did you not see the red skull tattoo? That's gang stuff, Sev!"

Severa's expression shifted from confusion to realization, her features contorting with frustration. "So what if he's in a gang? I can handle myself," she retorted, her tone defiant. "I'm not afraid of some wannabe tough guy."

Jasmine sighed deeply. "Sev, what do you know about Los Diablos Rojos?" Severa's blank stare indicated she was clueless. "What are you talking about?"

Jasmine hesitated, glancing around cautiously before leaning in closer to Severa. "Los Diablos Rojos," she whispered, "they're a notorious gang around here. That guy who confronted us, he's one of them."

Severa's eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?" she whispered back, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Why would they bother us?"

Emma, who had been listening intently, chimed in. "They probably thought we were encroaching on their territory or something," she suggested, her voice low and scared. "We should be careful, Sev."

Severa shrugged nonchalantly, her usual defiance shining through. "So what if they're a gang?" she replied, her tone dismissive. "I'm not afraid of some tattooed tough guys thinking they own the beach. They can go play pirate somewhere else."

Emma and Jasmine exchanged worried glances, but Severa remained stubbornly unfazed. "Seriously, guys," she continued, waving a hand dismissively, "let's not let a bunch of wannabe pirates ruin our day. I'm here for the sun and the sea, not their drama."

Coastal Coffee, The Next Day

The only reason she had even left campus was that she had run out of her best fabric and needed more if she wanted to finish the design by Monday. She had no plans on running into the asshole from yesterday, but here she was.

After getting the fabric, she made a quick pit stop at a nice little coffee shop, hoping to grab a snack before she headed back. but when she left the little shop, she fell face-first into somebody, knocking them both over and spilling her coffee everywhere.

"Fucking hell!" She immediately shot up off the ground, trying to wipe the coffee off her shirt. She aggressively scrubbed the coffee with a napkin when a hand shot out and stilled hers. She stared at the hand, her eyes traveling up the arm and to the face.

"oh hell..." She was staring at the asshole from the beach, but this time he looked a lot less mean and more amused. "¿vas a disculparte?" he looked her up and down before raising a brow. She just gave him a blank look before bending down to pick up her fallen fabric.

As she straightened, she felt a twinge of annoyance. Of all the people to run into, it had to be him. But there was something different about him now, something less intimidating. Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smirked or the genuine curiosity in his gaze. Whatever it was, she couldn't deny the spark of intrigue it ignited within her.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to play it cool. "I don't know what you're saying, but you owe me coffee and a cake pop," she retorted.

He tilted his head slightly. "Cake pop?"

She pointed at her smushed cake pop on the ground that ants were attacking.

His smirk widened, and he leaned back, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Fair point. But hey, accidents happen," he said, his voice surprisingly smooth.

"Yeah, well, maybe next time watch where you're going," she shot back, unable to resist the banter. This dude was odd, just yesterday he was all mean and rude but now, she swears it's like he was flirting, or at least trying.

He chuckled, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. "But hey, I am making it up to you. I'm still gonna buy you another coffee." She was about to reply when she heard Emma's voice in her head, yelling at her to not take coffee from a gangster.

She hesitated, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts. On one hand, it was just a coffee, and this guy didn't seem so bad right now. On the other hand, Emma's warnings echoed in her mind, reminding her of the dangers of getting involved with the wrong crowd.

"Actually, you know what? I'm good," she said, mustering a polite smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I should really get going."

His smirk widened, a hint of arrogance flickering in his eyes. "Suit yourself," he replied casually, as if her rejection didn't faze him in the slightest. "But just so you know, turning down anything from me is a missed opportunity."

She raised an eyebrow, both amused and irritated by his cockiness. "Is that so?"

He slid off his jacket and held it out to her, still smirking. "Your shirt is getting see-through." She quickly grabbed the jacket and put it on, shielding her coffee-soaked shirt. When she looked back at him, her eyes fell on the red skull tattoo on his upper arm, her thoughts running back to Jasmine's words. 'Notorious gang...'

He must have caught her staring, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. "Like what you see?" he teased, flexing his arm slightly to draw attention to the tattoo.

She rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool despite the uneasy feeling gnawing at her gut. "Please, tattoos are so cliché."

He chuckled, unfazed by her attempt to deflect. "Cliché or not, it gets people talking," he said cryptically, his eyes flickering with something she couldn't quite decipher.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to gauge his intentions. Was he just messing with her, or was there something more sinister lurking beneath his cocky demeanor? She couldn't shake the feeling that she was treading on dangerous ground.

Clearing her throat, she forced a smirk of her own. "Well, congratulations, you've definitely got my attention," she said, hoping to mask her unease with sarcasm.

He flashed her a grin that sent a chill down her spine. "Good. Because trust me, cariño, you haven't seen anything yet."

And with that cryptic remark hanging in the air, he turned and sauntered away, leaving her standing there, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirling inside her. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just crossed a line she might never be able to come back from.

She glanced at her watch and started to make her way back to the school when she realized she still wanted a cake pop. She made her way back inside the coffee shop and got in line, her mouth watering at the thought of the sweet treat. As she reached inside her pocket to grab her wallet, her hand slid inside the jacket pocket instead.

Her fingers brushed against something cold and metallic, and her heart skipped a beat. Pulling out her hand, she found herself staring at a sleek black handgun nestled in the folds of the jacket.

Her breath caught in her throat as panic surged through her veins. What the hell was a gun doing in this guy's jacket? And more importantly, why had he given her the jacket knowing the gun was in it?

Her mind raced with a million questions, each one more terrifying than the last. Was she in danger just by him giving her his jacket?

She glanced around, her eyes darting nervously as she struggled to compose herself. She couldn't stay here a moment longer. Without a second thought, she shoved the gun back into the jacket pocket and hurriedly made her way out of the coffee shop, her heart pounding in her chest.

As she stepped out into the cool evening air, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that lingered in the pit of her stomach. She knew she had to find some answers, and fast. But first, she needed to get as far away from that coffee shop as possible.

Severa's Dorm, Later That Night

She sat on her bed, freshly out of the shower, her eyes drawn to the handgun lying on her dresser.

Earlier, she had taken a closer look at it and saw the words 'El Rey Diablo' engraved on the side of it. The name sent chills down her spine. 'The Devil King' — it sounded like something straight out of a crime novel, not something she would ever encounter in her life.

But there it was, real and terrifyingly close.

She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over her since she found the gun. What was she supposed to do with it? She couldn't just ignore it, not when it was potentially linked to something dangerous.

Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more daunting than the last. Should she go to the police? But what if they didn't believe her, or worse, what if they thought she was involved somehow?

She couldn't risk it. Not when her own safety — and possibly Emma's — was on the line.

Taking a deep breath, she made a decision. She would find out more about this 'El Rey Diablo' and what he was involved in. Maybe then she could figure out what to do next.

But for now, she needed to focus on the task at hand. With trembling hands, she reached for the gun and stuffed it into one of the dresser drawers, trying to push away the thoughts of what it represented.

She laid back down in bed, her heart pounding in her ears as she tried to go to sleep. But sleep eluded her, her mind racing with thoughts of danger lurking in the shadows, of secrets and lies that threatened to consume her.

Every creak, every rustle of the wind outside, seemed to echo with the ominous weight of the unknown. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of being a pawn in a game she didn't even know she was playing.

Hours passed, but the darkness of night offered no solace. Instead, it only served to magnify her fears, leaving her feeling more vulnerable than ever.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed her, pulling her into a fitful slumber plagued by nightmares of shadowy figures and whispered threats.

She Was Fucked