In Kazimir's darkest, most painful, moment Emmett was his glowing lifeline in a town swarming with snakes.

Beneath the velvety night sky, Emmett's piercing green eyes resembled a cat's in attack-mode. The nippy wind tugged the gangster's hood down as he rested his shotgun against his truck. Emmett gently touched Kazimir's arm, taken aback when he flinched at the contact.

Haunting images of Samantha's kiss and sinister smile flashed through the artist's mind. He expected Emmett to harm him too. He couldn't trust anybody.

"I won't hurt you, I promise." The gangster gave him a crooked half-smile as he tried peeking at his injury again. Emmett carefully undid the hoodie wrapped tightly around Kazimir's upper arm, exposing the bloody mess the fabric concealed. A soft gasp escaped his parted lips. "Shit, Kaz."

A knot formed in Kazimir's stomach as he sucked in his breath. Stealing a glance at his wound was a horrible idea. He wasn't sure if he'd puke or faint. Trying to keep himself from spiraling into panic, he looked up at Emmett. He found no traces of malice in the gangster's face. Emmett would help him. He didn't need to be afraid.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Kazimir asked softly.

Emmett nodded as he rewrapped the blood-stained hoodie. "Who did this to you?"

"Samantha.... she stabbed me." Kazimir winced as Emmett slid one of his long arms under his shoulders to ease him into the truck. After which, he came around, stuffed his shotgun in the backseat, and hopped into the driver's seat.

"That crazy bitch. Don't worry. I'll get you to a doctor." Emmett stomped down on the gas pedal and sped away from the residential neighborhood. The tires screeched against the asphalt as the truck flew them out of there like a bat out of hell.

From the passenger window, Kazimir gazed out at the obsidian terrain that brushed by in a blur. He knew he had to keep pressure on his wound. If he allowed too much blood to leak out, he'd faint or even die.

"We're going to the hospital, aren't we?" Kazimir asked. "It's the other way."

"Well, not exactly," Emmett told him, gripping the steering wheel. "Your wound is bad, but you're not on death's doorstep yet."

"If you don't get me to a hospital, the Grim Reaper's going to jump out from behind those old buildings and drag me away into the night."

"I'll run him over then. I'm not letting you die."

"Where are we going?" Kazimir asked.

"The Voiceless Rebels has an underground doctor," he explained. "When we don't want hospitals to ask too many questions, we pay him in cash and he takes care of our injuries."

That didn't sound ideal to Kazimir, but he had no other choice. He needed medical attention from whoever he could get it from.

The clinic Emmett pulled up to was closed and dark. Kazimir's confusion deepened as Emmett retrieved his cell phone and made a quick call. Seconds later, a bald man in blue and white duck pajamas hurried out from the front entrance with a wheelchair. Kazimir wondered what cuckoo's nest he flew out of. He couldn't be a licensed doctor, could he?

The funny-looking man opened Kazimir's door. "I want my money after I've checked this guy out."

"Yeah, you'll get it," Emmett replied. "Just hurry and help me get him inside."

Strong arms came around to help him out of the passenger side of the truck. As Emmett eased Kazimir down into the wheel chair, he buried his face against the gangster's black western shirt. He smelled like expensive cologne and cigarette smoke.

The doctor in duck pajamas wheeled Kazimir across the parking lot, and Emmett stayed close beside him. It all felt like a surreal nightmare to the artist. All Kazimir wanted to do was go home to his apartment he shared with Jordy, who had to be so worried about him.

Thoughts about bleeding to death raced through his mind. He had lost a lot of blood and jerked his injured arm around more than he should've when he dodged Samantha's bullets. In his frantic state, he'd reached a hand out for Emmett's, squeezing the gangster's wrist tightly. He needed somebody to stay by his side. He didn't want to die alone.

Kazimir's vision went hazy when they wheeled him inside the clinic. All he could focus on was the ceiling and the faint smell of bleach. Everything throbbed in his head as the weird man slipped a white coat over his duck pajamas. Kazimir tried to watch his gloved hands to see what he was doing. The so-called doctor cut the fabric of his hoodie so he could assess the bleeding wound.

The artist hoped and prayed to a God he lost faith in so long ago to keep him alive. The bright lights hurt his eyes, and he swore his heart would explode.

"What's his prognosis?" Emmett asked.

"Give me some space. I just got the guy in here. He'll survive, but it looks like there might be some nerve damage in that arm. He's lucky you got him here when you did."

"When can I take him home? I don't want anyone getting suspicious," Emmett said.

"I'd prefer it if he stayed under my care for at least a week," the doctor said.

"We don't have that kind of time. How about a few hours?" Emmett followed up. "I'll make sure he takes it easy."

"That's not up to you. I know you've left against my better judgment, but you have to remember that this is his body. Not yours. If his wound gets infected, he might not be so lucky."

"If it gets infected, then I'll bring him back here," Emmett replied.

"Fine, but keep a close eye on him. Take him to the emergency room if ya see any signs of infections. Don't bring him back to me," the doctor said.

Their conversation got fuzzy. Kazimir couldn't concentrate very well anymore.

He barely heard Emmett's voice. "What happens now?"

"He should sleep like a newborn baby."

🎨

When Kazimir sat up and rubbed his tired eyes, a sharp pain lanced through his shoulder. It was a painful reminder of Samantha's betrayal, and he was tempted to snuggle back under the covers as the memories flooded in. His crush had stabbed him in the shoulder, but his heart ached the most.

A slither of sunshine crept in from the dark, closed curtains as Kazimir took in his unfamiliar surroundings. There were two desktop monitors across from him on a curved desk in the corner. He found that really weird. It reminded him of Jordy's gamer setup back at their apartment.

To his left laid an ancient-looking vanity with a vase of roses perched on top alongside some little skull heads. How creepy. Kazimir turned to the nightstand at his bedside, gasping in horror at the little demon guarding his glasses. The taxidermy raven stared at him with soulless eyes.

Reaching out with caution, he retrieved his glasses, accidentally knocking the disgusting creature in bed with him. Kazimir shrieked and flailed to get it away from him until the damn thing fell onto the floor. His heart throbbed in his chest as he slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose to get a better look around the room. He felt like he was in hell with the black walls trapping him inside and demon birds guarding him.

Where the heck was he? He barely remembered leaving the clinic that Emmett drove him to. That doctor had drugged him up too good. Whatever he'd given him, he'd love to have more of it. He hadn't slept that well in forever.

When he stood up, he noticed white powder covered the bed sheet he laid on. He scratched at his itchy thigh before realizing what happened. Kazimir unzipped his blue jeans and shimmied them down. The cocaine he stole remained in his pants and in the pockets. Bits of coke stuck to his thighs and underwear too. Somehow, he even got some stuck to his butt cheeks.

Kazimir wondered how the hell that happened. He collected all the cocaine in his pants and stuffed it in his back pockets. He brushed the bits off his legs and ass too. Kazimir loved cocaine more than life itself, but he wouldn't snort the coke that had been on his ass cheeks.

After wriggling back into his jeans, Kazimir kicked the creepy bird under the bed and made his way over to the window. He opened the curtains to brighten up the bedroom and shifted the window up. He needed fresh air.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Morning dew embraced him as he squinted against the golden sun ascending from behind the duplexes across the street. The chirping birds ruined the beauty of it all. He still wasn't sure where he was though. The neighborhood didn't seem familiar to him at all. Could it be Emmett's house? He sure had an oddly creepy taste in design if so. Who wanted stuffed, dead birds near their bed? Kazimir shivered just remembering the thing.

Kazimir gently touched the bandage around his wounded shoulder. He couldn't believe Samantha was so willing to kill him. He had no doubt that wasn't her first murder rodeo. She probably killed for the Black Vipers too.

Just the thought of how many people she might've killed nearly made him upchuck. She'd betrayed Kazimir and broke his heart.

The bedroom door creaked open and a dark figure stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Coming into the light, Emmett resembled the tall and slender angel he thought he'd encountered back in the alleyway. For a man, he was gorgeous. Especially those enigmatic, green eyes of his. Kazimir's cheeks flushed with heat as he ogled the gangster.

Emmett didn't seem to notice, as he munched on a powdered donut from the store-bought pack in one of his hands and balanced a mug of steaming coffee in the other. White flakes speckled his black western shirt.

Kazimir couldn't deny his attraction toward the man, but he knew letting lust cloud his good judgment would be a horrendous mistake. Look where that got him with Samantha. Emmett didn't save him just to be a good Samaritan.

"How are you feeling?" Emmett asked.

Kazimir shrugged, wincing. "Okay, I guess."

Emmett approached the foot of his bed, pulling out another donut from his pack after resting his mug on the vanity. "The doctor said you're supposed to take it easy for the next few weeks, so don't do anything stupid."

"I won't." Kazimir fiddled with the collar of his shirt, avoiding eye-contact with the handsome, intimidating man.

"Hey, where'd my raven go?" Emmett asked, gesturing to the nightstand.

"Huh? Raven? I have no idea," Kazimir lied.

While chatting with him, a dizzy spell hit Kazimir, and he staggered back onto the mattress. There was an irritating ringing in his ears, like a cicada latched onto his earlobe and buzzed away. His poor head throbbed liked it was being jabbed by a hundred woodpeckers.

Emmett sat down beside him, gently resting his hand on his leg. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Looking up, Kazimir met his concerned frown and spring-green eyes. "Just got a bit dizzy. I'm fine."

Kazimir resisted the urge to savor the warmth of Emmett's touch. He gently shifted away from him, trying to calm his beating heart. He wasn't sure if Emmett would try to strangle him or cop a feel between his legs.

"You most certainly are not fine. You were stabbed, and now you're trying to move around freely as you please. You have to take care of yourself," Emmett replied. "I'm not your enemy. I want to offer you protection from Samantha and the Black Vipers."

"Why?" Kazimir asked, brushing his hand away. "What do you really want from me?"

Pouting like a child, Emmett kept his masculine, bruised hands to himself. "I just don't want you to get hurt. You can leave if you want. Your motorcycle's outside. I had my guy, Alfie bring it here for you."

Panic exploded amid Kazimir's mind like a confetti cannon. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about his precious motorcycle. In the midst of chaos and confusion, it just slipped his mind. At least Emmett brought it back to wherever the hell they were for him. Nobody could steal it.

Kazimir folded his arms across his chest. "I appreciate you doing that, but you never answered my question."

"We need someone to create our tags for us, be our advertiser," Emmett explained. "I've been keeping up with your art and we feel like you'd be the best guy for it. When we learned you were a coke addict, we thought that could be the way we compensate you. Free drugs. I mean, who could say no to that?"

Kazimir rubbed his chin. "I don't know. It sounds too good to be true. There's something you're not telling me."

"Why don't you trust me, Kaz? Most addicts in your place would accept my offer right away."

"Last time I trusted someone, I got stabbed."

"I'll just have to earn your trust then." Emmett smirked. "Anyway, I came up here to check up on you. Need anything?"

Kazimir's stomach rumbled. "Breakfast would be nice. Do you have any pancakes or bacon?"

"Who the fuck do I look like? Betty Crocker? Here, you want one?" Emmett gestured his package of donuts out to him. "They're not powdered with coke, so don't try to snort it."

Scowling, Kazimir snatched the package out of his hands. "So, what are we going to do about Samantha?"

"I'm glad you asked. You see, I have a proposition for you. I'll help you get revenge on Samantha if you agree to join the Voiceless Rebels." Emmett gave him a cheeky grin.

Kazimir sighed. "Why are you so desperate to have me in your gang?"

"I told you already. We need someone artsy like you to tag our locations to bring in buyers. My, ahem, our personal artist," he replied. "Being in the gang isn't as dangerous as the media makes it out to be. We don't go shooting someone on the streets every Saturday for fun. We stick to drug distribution."

Kazimir was faced with a dilemma. White flakes dusted his shirt as he munched on the donuts. He couldn't possibly consider joining a gang, could he? Kazimir knew he couldn't stand there stuffing his face forever either. Emmett expected an answer from him.

Wiping the powder on his jeans, he placed the pack of donuts on the nightstand and laid down. His head hurt so much. He didn't know what to do. Would Samantha try to attack him again? Did he have the strength to defend himself? What if Emmett turned on him too?

Trusting Emmett was like trusting gasoline to douse out a fire. Kazimir knew he needed to hightail it out of there and forsake the gangs. He needed to find his drug elsewhere. Perhaps he could travel into to another town.

"Do you wanna get high?" Emmett asked out of the blue.

"What?" Kazimir shook himself from his thoughts.

"I think it'll help calm you down and make a decision," Emmett explained. "You only do coke, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

Emmett rummaged through the nightstand drawer before pulling out a baggie of cocaine, a sealed syringe, and a blackened spoon. Kazimir found it coincidental how he happened to have all that prepared.

"Just gotta get some water from the bathroom. Be right back," Emmett said.

"Wait. I don't inject it anymore. I just snort it.

Emmett stopped mid-way to the door, turning back around, brows arched in confusion. "Really? I've never had anyone turn down shooting up. To each their own, I guess. Here ya go then." He handed Kazimir the baggie of cocaine.

Kazimir wondered if Emmett was an addict too. Would it be disrespectful to ask him? Emmett seemed to know a lot about preparing injections and even had his own little kit in his bedroom. He wasn't close with any other drug addicts, so he wasn't for sure, but keeping a blackened spoon in the dresser was weird for non-addicts. He decided against asking such a personal question, not wanting to rub Emmett the wrong way.

The strongest stuff his old friends back home ever tried was weed. They always thought he was so cool when he brought them a bong to smoke with, but in reality he was a desperate addict who got a bunch of teenagers high so he could rob their parents homes to pay for cocaine.

"We have a candy dish in the kitchen full of pills too. Feel free to take some," Emmett told him.

"No thanks."

Tugging his wallet out, Kazimir retrieved a dollar bill and his debit card. He sat up and gently dumped the cocaine out on the little nightstand tray. He used the card to chop the coke up as finely powdered as possible. It took awhile to get it just perfect to snort. Leaning forward, he used his curled up dollar bill to snort the coke up into his left nostril.

The pain in his shoulder faded away with all his concerns as he laid back down on the bed. The pillows were like fluffy clouds, embracing him in comfortable warmth.

Emmett placed the syringe and ribbon on the nightstand beside him. He shivered just imagining the pierce of the needle penetrating his delicate skin.

Needles made him too squeamish. Injecting cocaine brought back too many memories that Kazimir wanted to forget. Ghostly nails trickled against his arm as he shivered, remembering how good it felt to shoot up. Running away from home had been his chance at a new life, where he could start a clean slate. He thought he could abandon the drugs too, but the demon would never release it's hold over him.

A dip in the mattress made Kazimir look over. Emmett plopped himself down beside Kazimir, sitting up with a lighter and cigar he retrieved from his pocket. Smoke coiled above them like playful ghosts chasing each other around. The pungent smell drifted all around the room.

Everything around Kazimir slowed down. His heartbeat echoed in a steady rhythm as he admired the smoking gangster beside him. A giddy grin spread across Kazimir's face, causing Emmett to chuckle.

"What's got you smiling so much?" Emmett asked.

"You," Kazimir replied without any shame.

"Oh yeah?"

Emmett would drag him straight to hell, but Kazimir didn't care in his cocaine-induced high. All his worries vanished into thin air. Only Emmett's chiseled face mattered to him. He swore the little glass skull heads on the vanity winked at him when he considered snuggling closer to Emmett. Something pulled him away though. Something deep inside warned him that Emmett wasn't trustworthy.

Being in a gang was dangerous, but he couldn't fend Samantha off himself. He needed a strong, protective man like Emmett to keep his ass safe. Emmett promised endless cocaine too, so he'd never have to worry about finding a fix again.

Every free sample he gave him hadn't been cut with something nasty, unlike the Black Vipers. Samantha never cared when he told her how it burned his nostrils too much or gave him terrible nosebleeds. He was just another despicable addict in her eyes.

He couldn't trust Emmett. He couldn't trust Samantha either. He couldn't trust anyone. Kazimir looked over at the gangster laying beside him. It was best to keep enemies close, right?

"Make me a Voiceless Rebel," Kazimir said.

Emmett grinned, puffing another cloud of smoke in the air. "Oh, deciding so soon? I knew getting high would help."

"Whatever initiation I have to undergo, let's get it started," Kazimir told him. "Do you want to wrap snakes around my body? Or make me drink animal blood?"

"What the fuck? No, this isn't a damn cult, Kaz."

"The Black Vipers do the snake one, I think. I just figured you would do something similar."

"How close were you to the Black Vipers? Did you ever go to one of their stash houses?" Emmett asked him.

"Stash houses?"

"The place where they keep a big supply of drugs," he explained. "They might even sell it there too."

Kazimir tilted his head before he realized what Emmett meant. "Like the old hair salon on Caraway Drive?"

"Never would've guessed they'd use that. Thanks for the information." Emmett stroked his fingers through Kazimir's hair, ruffling it up a bit. "I think I'm gonna enjoy having you around."