"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?


3. The Taken

2. The Taken

// Justin // 



She shivers in the chair set out before me. I grin at the sight.

I can practically see the fear creeping along under her skin, making every hair stand to attention as it passes. Everything about her is tuned into me; watching me with eyes crawling with fear, and it’s like I’ve won the fucking game.

This is the part I’ve always loved the most; the rush of holding someone right in the palm of your hands, watching them quiver with fear as they try to gauge what your next move might be. It’s the uncertainty that has always been my favorite - I’m unpredictable to them; a ghost creeping into their life in the dark depth of the night, haunting and taunting them until they finally give in and hand me what I want. 

“Where is it?” I growl, the grin still set in place on my lips.

I’m mildly impressed when she doesn’t flinch the slightest at my sharp voice ringing through the ice cold air of the apartment. It’s nicer than I had expected - most drug dens are dark unkept places, but this apartment is completely decked out with furniture and bright lamps. 

I eye the the kitchen utilities sticking out of a box in the corner of the room. 

New, shiny equipment. Definitely not something you would usually see in your run of the mill drug den - I’ve seen my fair share of them. 

This chick must be worth her value.

“Where’s what?” she spits, dragging my attention back to her as her face sets in stone. 

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes, forcing myself to really look at her for the first time since we barged through her door.

This chick is starring daggers at me. There’s no more than three feet between us. Anyone else would be shitting themselves being this close to me, but this little girl is meeting my eyes full on, her jaw set in place, her back straight, her chin raised. 

Little is an understatement; this chick is far from that. Closer to my age than I would like for her to be, but the look about her eyes tells me she’s still someone’s little girl. It’s the innocence in her big eyes, the pure nativity there; the belief that daddy will come and take it all away. I almost laugh at the thought. 

No one can save her - not even her daddy, whoever he might be.

Knowing this I let my eyes drop from her stiff glare to the shape of her mouth, dipping in a perfect curved down sneer. Slowly, I let my eyes travel further, to the delicate point where her neck meets her jaw. I know how soft the skin is there, how delicate it is when you press a sharp blade against it and how little force it takes to break it. I wonder if her’s will be just as easy to tear or if the frost in her eyes have settled there too, turning it into ice. Strands of her hair fall from a ponytail in disarray. The dark color is a distracting contrast to her pale skin. Like darkness fleeting into the light, right at the base of her neck.

My eyes linger there, and her neck moves as she swallows, darting my eyes right back to hers. 

She’s trying to suppress her instincts, possibly in hopes that I won’t notice how deeply our presence is affecting her.

I grind my lips together in an attempt to contain the smirk that’s tugging at the corners of my mouth. I can’t let her see how much I’m enjoying this, just like she’s trying hard not to give away just how scared she is.

It’s all parts of the game. 

“Where’s the money?” I ask her, my voice constricted in the small space between us.

“What money?” she bites back, her face remaining set in stone.

“Don’t play dumb,” I spit back at her, barely containing the growl pushing up in the back of my throat, “It doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?” Games are fun, but this one has already started to bore me. “A place like this doesn’t grow on trees,” I snap at her, as I let my eyes wander briefly around the apartment again. 

“I don’t have any money,” she insists, pushing forward on her restraints, as if she’s trying to spring at me. 

“Really?”  The growl pouring from the back of my throat is enough to send chills down a grown man’s spine. Her face remains ice, but the way the hairs on her arms stand on end doesn’t go unnoticed. 

I tear my eyes from the girl, nodding towards the guy looming behind her. His eyes are already on me, waiting for my signal. Colin is my second in command and he knows his shit. “Let’s see if this chick has someone who cares for her.” Colin is on the move the second the words leave my mouth, already tuned into what’s about to happen.

“What?” she exclaims, the moment Colin pulls a cloth from his pocket. 

Then he’s on her, covering her mouth with the cloth and her nose with his other hand. She struggles against his hold, thrashing against her restraints, but there’s nothing she can do. I can hear her scream behind Colin’s hold over her mouth, but not a single coherent word slips out past the cloth. 

Then, with one final tug against her restrains, she falls limps in Colin’s hold, and he lets up on the cloth.

“Take her. We’re leaving.”

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