What do you do when you find yourself lost in Brooklyn, New York, with no one for company except for a notorious and dangerous miscreant with offends such as murder and international drug dealing who looked like he went through a battle with Godzilla? And what do you do when said criminal offers to take you home but you secretly believe he's going to kill you and dump your body into a meat grinder because the leader of an organized crime institution that caused an entire nation to stop and gape open-mouthed in fear does not do nice things like that.

Well, the only thing you can do is slap one of his ears and run away.

Which is exactly what I did.

And it didn't work out.

For the third time yet, Wolfe merely just captured the hemline of my sweater with one of his bruised hands before I could dash away and pulled me back until, once again, I was back in his grip. Of course, I did not like that one bit. Being manhandled wasn't on the list of enjoyable activities. So what did I do? What did I, the stupid and very impulsive teenage girl, do to get out of the mess I accidentally found myself in? 

Well, I slapped his hands away and began to cry again, that's what.

Wolfe stared with wide, alarmed eyes as I burst into tears. He quickly released my clothes and stepped back. I think he was kind of unsure of what to do. The man who could so easily take control had no idea what to do with a lost, sobbing teenage girl. "What's the matter with you?" Wolfe questioned, sounding startled. "Florence, for fuck's sake. Why are you crying? Are you okay? Jesus Christ-"

I didn't even know why I was crying. I was so upset Ade didn't show up, but even more upset from running into Wolfe Sterling. I didn't want to see his face....his perfect, gorgeous, beautiful face. Wolfe's presence managed to darken my mood like nothing else. I wasn't even this upset when I ran out of Twizzlers.

Uncomfortable now, Wolfe reached into his pocket and pulled out one of those cute little mini-size packages of Kleenex and handed me the whole thing. I took one out (he had the scented kind, can you believe it? The package had little pink flowers on it, too.) and gave the rest back to Wolfe. My voice was shaky when I spoke. "Thank you."

"No problem." Wolfe frowned. "What are you doing here, Florence?"

Quickly over my outburst, I felt a clench of embarrassment replace the wave of emotions. Flustered, I could only manage a shrug. I didn't have to explain anything to Wolfe, but it seemed like he wasn't going to let me leave until he got one. "I got lost."

"Yes, I figured that." He sighed. "You want me to take you back home?"

"No, thank you." I was horrified at the idea. Wolfe, take me home? That was basically asking to get murdered. I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him, and I could barely throw a basketball. Besides, after what happened a couple nights ago in the Espresso House lounge, I was more than unwilling to spend even a second of more time with Wolfe than I had to. Wolfe Sterling doesn't do nice. "I can find my way home. I'll call an Uber or something."

"Don't be silly." Wolfe's blue eyes flashed with indignation. I didn't know whether it was at my suggestion or at my refusal to take him up on his. He reached for me. Startled, I ducked out of the way so his fingers clenched at empty air. "Come on, I'll take you back to the coffee shop. I was heading that way, anyways. It's going to rain soon and I don't feel think either one of us would appreciate a fever tonight, Florence. You'll be safer with me. I promise."

As if.

Still unwilling to agree, I shook my head. "Like I said, Wolfe, I can get myself home just fine. I don't need your help, but thanks for the offer. Who would refuse a car ride with a murdering psychopath? Everyone, including me. Such a kind suggestion, but I'd rather not. So nice of you to ask, but I shan't. I don't plan on dying at the age of 18. I'd like to live a little longer, perhaps be executed around my thirties when life gets dull, you know how it works, setting up your own hitman for yourself, the whole shebang, the run on sentences, I haven't paused to take a breath as I am saying all of this, so I'm running a little low on oxygen..." I wheezed and finally came to a stop.

Wolfe had been muttering to himself during my entire speech. I caught something along the lines of "the weirdest goddamn girl I've ever met" and "God help me, I'm going to kill her" and also something about bread I think, but I wasn't too sure. Or dead. But I was certain he mentioned something about bread and not something about me being dead.

A raindrop fell on top of my head.

Woah, look at that rhyme.

Pretty soon, more and more drops followed until it was coming down heavily. Wolfe and I were both panicking at this point as the downpour only thickened. People in the streets were scrambling for shelter. Finally, Wolfe just grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the alley. Finding nowhere else to go, I reluctantly followed. 

I didn't think about where we were heading until Wolfe pulled the door open to some back entrance of a rundown building and shoved me inside. My shoes were slick from the rain, which unluckily played a part in the next incident. Wolfe must've not realized how clumsy and unstable my own two feet could be until I found myself stumbling over the little raised threshold because I didn't expect there to be one. With a little scream, I grabbed onto the only thing I could, which unfortunately happened to be Wolfe, so I ended up dragging him down with me.

Wolfe crash-landed beside me on the concrete floor, right on his butt like I had. I toppled right over his legs and came down with a thump. Pain blossomed up on my backside. 

We sat in stunned silence for a second, and then Wolfe cursed loudly, fixing me with a furious glare. "What the fuck, Florence?" Wolfe growled, checking the palms of his hand. The skin on both of them had turned raw because he threw his hands out instinctively to break the fall. Oh, great. Now he was even more bruised thanks to me. "What the fuck was that? Don't drag me down with you, Florence."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to." A little waver of guilt caused me to crawl over to where he lay sprawled, throw my arms around his neck, and plant a big wet smackeroo over his right eyelid. I wasn't sure how that made anything better, but it did stop the regretful feeling. Wolfe stared at me for a second before rolling his eyes and pushing me away, wiping my saliva off his face.

 Scrambling up, I straightened my clothes and started to pretend as if I did not just have the most ungraceful fall of my life and unceremoniously dragged a famous gang leader with me.

"Oh my God." Wolfe muttered under his breath. He stood up, too. "You're like the opposite of pain medication. You bring me so much pain. But it's alright." He said sarcastically, glancing down at his palms. "I suppose I didn't need that part of my skin anyways."

Suddenly, he began reaching towards me. But you see, the way I saw it was that Wolfe was reaching to grab me and chop me to little pieces so he could put me into the meat grinder, as I've mentioned earlier. So I closed my eyes and began to say my goodbyes to everyone I loved until I realized that Wolfe was not grabbing me to chop me into little pieces for the meat grinder, but in fact, he was just reaching towards me to lock the door that I was inconveniently standing in front of. 

"Oh." I nodded awkwardly. "Right."

Wolfe shook his head angrily and stepped away. It was then that I saw where we were and why Wolfe looked like so bruised.

It was a large room with dim light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. There was a large square-shaped platform in the middle of the room with red ropes bordering the perimeter of the blank ring. A wrestling ring. On the curtains of the ring were some advertisements and a list of dates with upcoming matches. There was a punching bag hanging from the ceiling a few feet away. Blue foam mats were placed effectively around some wrestling equipment, as well as a couple exercise machines. Along the wall to the left was a shelf with some weights and barbells scattered around. 

The place looked trashed, as if no one ever bothered to clean up around here. Wolfe must've been here. Was he fighting? That's why he was so cut up, probably. With his temper, I assumed brawls were no new thing. But who could have the guts to face off against Wolfe Sterling? The guy was notorious for his crimes. 

"You fight?" I asked hesitantly. Wolfe was looking around the room like he wanted to leave. Bad memories? My eyes trailed down to his knuckles, all busted up and scraped from friction and impact. A guy like Wolfe was dangerous out in the streets, but a guy like Wolfe in the ring was so much worse. 

"I practice." He turned around, watching me warily. "Dammit, I shouldn't have brought you here. Come on, let's find shelter somewhere else. I don't want to be here."

My curiosity got the best of me. I looked at the curtains on the ring's platform. Next to the dates were names of fighters. My mouth dropped open. I turned around, my voice almost accusatory. "You do fight." I pointed to the list. "Your name is right there, set for next week against a guy named...Twister?"

"Florence." Wolfe's voice was hard. He used my name as a warning. "Don't step where you're not welcome. Let's go somewhere else." There was definitely something he was not telling me. He was almost reluctant to even have the possibility of it being brought up.

I was still staring at the ring when Wolfe finally lost his temper and forced me to walk away. There was a stain on the canvas of the ring, almost like blood. The ropes were frayed and the turnbuckles were metal with no foam covering. It would be so easy to break someone's nose on it. I wondered if that was a regular occurrence. I didn't have much knowledge about the underworld of criminal fighting but I was willing to bet a lot of the wrestlers sustained many injuries they could not explain when inquired about. 

Wolfe's identity was no secret in this place and since he was such a high profile criminal, people here probably stayed hush hush which was against the law since they knew his whereabouts and did nothing. Kind of like my parents and I.  Was it out of respect? Was it because the others who came here were also wanted by law enforcement and just couldn't walk into a precinct or they'd be arrested? Or did they just not care enough about cops to assist them? Whichever reason it was, I was awed by the fact that no one ratted Wolfe Sterling out.

"You're hurt, Wolfe. Is this safe?" I asked as we went down a series of hallways. Wolfe seemed to be leading me to the locker room. "Is any of this even...legal?"

"Safe?" He repeated the word as if it tickled him to even think I could ask a thing like that. "Sure, as long as you think beating people up and getting beat up is safe. It's as safe as you think it is. As for the legal part, I'm assuming it to be so. This property is government-owned, but what can they do all the way out here?''

"Oh." I nodded. "So this is totally against the law?"

"Totally."

Wolfe stopped abruptly in front of a wooden door. I was too busy taking in my surroundings to notice so I ended up walking straight into his shoulder blades. My nose crumpled again. I swear it was going to be broken by the end of the night. He looked over in annoyance, sighing as I rubbed my sore nose. With a glare, I stalked past Wolfe angrily and opened the door since he would rather stand there and continue to be annoyed rather than doing something productive. At least he got us out of the rain. 

The room we entered could easily be called a locker room but also some kind of dungeon, too. There were two rows of big swamp green lockers set against the crumbling brick walls on opposite sides. A whole bunch of benches were scattered around the spacious area. Red was the fire exit sign in front of an entrance door and black was the duffel bags pushed against the walls. I don't know why I described them like that. Again, author...word count...accomplishments...

When I turned back around, Wolfe was cuddling one of his hands in the other and gingerly picking at his fresh bruises. Even he seemed surprised at how messed up he had gotten from whatever dangerous thing he was doing earlier. Wolfe's mysteriousness (is that a word?) was really getting under my skin. He couldn't just come out and say things. Wolfe didn't lie, he just...withheld information. 

"What are you really planning to do with the tunnels in the cellar?" The question was eating away at me and I had to ask. The more information he told me, the more I could parrot back to cops. When his eyes snapped up to mine, I got uneasy but continued. "You know, just wondering. Not that I'm going to tell anyone what you say." Shut up, Florence. "Like, no cops or anything. I would never rat you out, Wolfe. Well, I tried, but that was only once! I'm a good person to trust." Oh my God, stop talking. "I can keep secrets. But not help-me-hide-this-body type of secrets. Too heavy for my conscience. Unless you asked me to keep something like that a secret. Then I totally would. No matter what. Um-"

Wolfe's eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled. He had a real toothy grin too, with perfectly straight white teeth. He should try out for a toothpaste commercial. It wasn't a nice smile though. Nice to look at, maybe, but the reason for it wasn't so nice. The way Wolfe smiled was like the way a murderer would smile before viciously killing their victim. Or like maybe a lion would before gobbling up a zebra. Or like a wolf would smile before...

"You fit your name." I said awkwardly. 

"I fit my name?" Wolfe inquired. I didn't miss the fact that he ignored my question. "What does that even mean, Florence?"

"I don't know." I was visibly sweating by now. I think Wolfe noticed how uncomfortable I was and probably had an inner monologue that consisted mostly of making fun of me. He looked like he was enjoying some secret joke, anyways. From the way his eyes trailed up my body to the little tugging smirks made me thoroughly nervous, even more so since I was alone here with him in a strange place. Oh my God, his eyes were so blue. And the lighting shadowed his face in such a pretty way, I had to shift my gaze to something else to avoid having a meltdown. 

"Hey, Florence." Wolfe smiled, stepping closer. I stifled in fear. God, he was so intimidating. "I just want to know something. Why do I make you so nervous? I mean, you look like you're about to cry again. Am I really that scary or is that just your natural face?"

His question was honest but the wording of it could have been so much better. I made a face at him. "Is that supposed to be rhetorical or am I supposed to give you an actual answer? Because if you want an answer, oh boy do you need to learn a little something about self-awareness."

That smirk again. "I want an actual answer, Florence. Just curious to know why I terrify you so much. As for my self-awareness, I'm aware of myself. I'm aware of my surroundings..." One step closer, eyes twinkling. "...I'm very aware of you."

"Want to know why I'm so terrified of you?" I asked, my voice wavering. It took all of my will to ignore the flutters in my stomach. Wolfe was now less than a foot away, leaning down to look at me with curiosity. "I don't know, Wolfe. Maybe it's because you're one dangerous douchearoonie and I don't want to be around you or that temper of yours. You held me at gunpoint not even five minutes after we met. You're destroying my parent's business, their careers. This city is about to go on lockdown to find you and I have no desire to be involved in that when they do. And they will find you, Wolfe. You can't hide forever."

"I have for five years." He growled. "What's changed?"

"Me. You didn't plan on meeting me." Anger was overtaking my nerves again. "You didn't factor me into your lives, into the Crowns. What's stopping me from going to the police, Wolfe? I'm not going to protect you. Sure, we may be harboring criminals at the moment, but that's not going to last long. I won't let my parents allow a business underneath a business. You can intimidate them into silence all you want but you can't do the same to me-"

"Oh, I can't?" Wolfe scoffed. He was getting angry too, I could hear it in the way he spat out his words. "No, Florence, that's where you got it wrong. I can force you into silence. What you need to realize is that I won't. I can, but I won't. The option is still there, though. I think you understand that, Florence, you just don't want to. There are many ways of shutting people up and that's not just with threats, either."

Brazen and bold now, words slipped out of my mouth because anger had removed the filter from my mouth. And my common sense. The angrier I was getting, the angrier Wolfe was too. "So, what else then?" I all but sneered. "How are you going to shut me up, Wolfe? Are you going to kill me? Are you gonna cut my tongue out? Do it, you ugly piece of cheese. I dare you." With that, I stuck my tongue out at Wolfe, waiting with determination and dark curiosity at his next course of action.

Which was to whip out a switchblade.

Immediately, I regretted my words. With one look at the sharp knife, all my courage disappeared, just like that. When I dared him to cut my tongue out, I didn't actually think he'd go through with it. I suppose, for a guy that could stick pins into someone's eyes as a method of torture had no problem disabling a person's ability to talk for the rest of their life. Suddenly, I wasn't so angry anymore as much as I was terrified.

"Okay, no, I'm sorry!" I clamped both hands over my mouth, keeping my tongue locked behind teeth. Protect the tongue at all costs. How else was I supposed to swallow Twizzlers? "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." My words came out muffled. I kept my eyes on the switchblade, my heart pounding. "Wolfe, please. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that. Don't cut my tongue out, please. I need it. It's an important part of my body. I love you. I've been in love with you since 5th grade. I'm sorry. You're a great human being and I didn't mean what I said."

Wolfe toyed with the edge of the blade, amused at my terror. "If you didn't mean it, why'd you say it?"

"I was angry." I kept my hands over my mouth, still horrified at myself for saying that, but even more so that Wolfe would actually do it. He really didn't have a heart, huh? No morals, no conscience. Only the CIA interrogators had the mindset of Wolfe Sterling's. "I'm sorry. Did you know I love you?"

Wolfe sighed. And then, to my utter relief and joy, pocketed the switchblade. He turned away and began ambling over to one of the lockers. Grateful, I followed after him. Again, he stopped abruptly, but this time I was expecting it so I dodged before I crashed into his back and ended up in front of Wolfe. I was still feeling the aftereffects of his little threat and his mercy to let it go may have caused me to bear hug his waist. Wolfe waited one beat before swatting my hands away and opening the locker.

"Thanks for not cutting out my tongue." I tried to headbutt him, but he moved out of the way. I also tried to kiss him, but all Wolfe had to do was crane his neck and then I couldn't reach his mouth, so I just ended up pressing my lips to the tiny cleft in his chin. 

He gave me the side-eye. "No problem. But you really should watch your mouth, Florence. I'm not the only one capable of torture."

I was still a little terrified of him going back on his word. There was no way I could trust Wolfe Sterling. So when he was bending down to reach for something into his locker, I reached into the pocket of his hoodie and extracted the switchblade. I threw it over my shoulder and coughed at the same time of when it clattered against the wall, but the sound was poorly disguised. Thankfully, Wolfe didn't realize it. 

He was still searching for something at the bottom of his locker when I noticed the bright white and red first aid kit sitting on the top shelf. "Hey." I reached over his back and plucked the box out. "Can I fix your hands? They're all scraped up and you didn't bandage them right."

He straightened up and glanced down at his knuckles. "That's not necessary, Florence."

"Both of your hands are literally soaked in blood right now."

"I told you, it's not necessary."

"Wolfe, look at those knuckles. What, did you repeatedly punch a tree or something? Don't be silly, those scars are going to get infected and then you'll have to amputate your hands and then how the hell are you supposed to eat Twizzlers if that happens?" I questioned. "You're being stupid. Is it really that hard to drop the tough guy act and let me slap some Spongebob bandaids on you?"

"Florence, I will go back on my word-" Wolfe reached into his pocket for his switchblade. It took exactly five seconds for his expression to change from one of mild annoyance to confusion to realization and then finally settle on anger. "You did not. Where is it?"

I gave him an innocent look. "Where is what?"

"My knife." Wolfe glared at me, his voice hard. "Where is it?"

"Oh, no." I said heartlessly, staring straight at him. "Did you drop it? Maybe it fell out of your pocket."

"You are honestly the most annoying person I have ever met."

"Babe! I love you too."