"I've killed before; what makes you think I wouldn't do it again?"

When Spencer is offered a chance at her own place, she jumps at it without a second thought about the previous owner's dark past. It isn't until four masked guys bang down the door to her new apartment and drag her off for a ransom that she's forced to face the consequences of someone else's choices, at the hands of NYC's most notorious gang. Can she convince them that they've made a mistake, before the darkness consumes her?

Growing up in foster homes on the wrong side of the city Justin Bieber has learned a thing or two about mistakes, and how to keep yourself from repeating them. It's simple really; you get rid of the problem, before it gets rid of you. So why can't he get himself to make this one go away?

"Nothing's completely good or bad, because one can't exist without the other - just like the dark needs the light to survive."

Are you ready for the darkness to take over?


5. The Outlaws

4. The Outlaws

// Justin // 




“You took her?” Nolan, my best mate in this hell hole, exclaims, jumping off the couch and starts pacing the length of the living room. 

“Of course,” I shrug, taking another swig of the beer in my hand. “She wouldn’t pay.”

“So you brought her here?” he asks, coming to a stop and gesturing around the house, as if the idea is absolutely ludicrous.

I shrug again, already tired of this conversation, “Tied her to a chair in the boiler room.” 

“Ace is gonna flip,” Nolan chuckles dryly, shaking his head ta me. 

“He said to get the money, no matter the means,” I tell him dryly, offering up another shrug before emptying the beer bottle and discarding it on the worn down coffee table. The dark paint of the table is chipped, giving away to lighter wood, but even that is looking almost as dark as the paint now, with all the stains and dirt that’s collected there over the years. There’s knife carvings and a single bullet hole in the table top, baring witness to times we don’t even speak about any longer.

“Just glad I’m not the one having to explain this shit show,” Nolan huffs, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his black hoodie. 

“Yeah no shit,” I snort. 

Ace can make even the toughest of us shit in our boots. All except me. Mainly because Ace knows that one wrong look and I can pop that pretty little head of his right off his shoulders. That, and the fact that he needs me. I’m the only one in this shit show that has balls enough to go eye to eye with Ace and tell him to fuck off when he needs to hear it. I’m also the only one without a conscious, or at least that’s what they all joke about, before they send me off to another poor lad’s funeral.

“Yo, we found her ID,” Tristan, one of our youngest, howls as he barges into the room, closely followed by Daniel and Colin, both wearing smug smirks and holding a beer each, as they flop onto the couch next to me.

Tristan is waving a dark leather wallet in the air that looks way to girly to be one of ours. Standing in the middle of the room, he snaps it open and picks through the content, until he finds what he’s looking for and pulls out a small white plastic card. 

With a smug smirk matching the other guy’s he examines the card, twisting and turning it in the light. 

I couldn’t care less about the plastic ID or the wallet, unless it contained the seven thousand bucks that Ace send us out to retrieve this morning from the chick. So I divert my attention from Tristan and pull my phone from my jean pocket and start toying with it in my lap, mentally scrolling through my contact list, hoping to find someone who would make my night worthwhile.

It’s not until Tristan’s smirk starts to fade and his constant twisting and turning of the plastic card halts suddenly that my interest in what he’s found returns.

“Doesn’t look like that Delilah chick who was here collecting last month,” he says, now squinting at the card.

“Let me see,” Colin tells him, lazily pushing off the couch and making his way to where Tristan is standing in the middle of the room, now with Nolan by his side, leaning in over Tristan’s shoulder to get a better look at the picture on the ID.

“Holy shit,” Nolan exclaims, his eyes all but popping out of their sockets.

“What?” I snap, my eyes trained on Nolan, as his gaze slowly slips from the ID and up to meet mine.

“Look at her last name,” he orders the two guys, still ogling the card, his eyes still trained on mine.

“Sutton?” Colin exclaims, his head snapping up to stare dumbfounded at me and Daniel, still on the couch. I tense at the mentioning of the name, my mind racing through the events of the morning, as Colin continues to stare at me, his eyes and mouth wide open. “You don’t think she’s…”

“No, she couldn’t be,” I snap at him, clenching my hands into fists and pushing off of the couch. 

“But what if she is,” Tristan argues, “We’re in enough shit with the cops already, we don’t need the captain’s fucking kidnapped daughter on our record too.”

“Fuck,” I groan, forcing my hands into my hair and tugging at the strands as hard as I can.

“What the hell did you do, Bieber?” Nolan growls, his eyes going dark. 

“You’re in it deep mate,” Tristan drawls, looking just as scared as Colin next to him. “Better get it under control before Ace shows up.”

“Shit, he’s gonna flip!” Colin exclaims, his stance tensing. 

“He’s not gonna flip,” I sneer, effectively shutting the guys up. “There won’t be shit to flip over,” I tell them, as I cross the floor to them, grabbing the ID out of Colin’s hand and heading directly out of the room and towards the staircase, going down. 

I learned a long time ago how to get rid of a problem before it comes back to bite you in the ass, and this was bloody fucking problem.

I take the step two at a time, not pausing before I get to the door. It’s bolted and locked, but before I get started on any of the barriers I allow myself a glance at the small plastic card in my hand.

Spencer Sutton.

It’s funny how something so small and fragile looking, like a plastic card or a young girl, can fuck everything up in the blink of an eye.




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