Free A Proscriptive Relationship by Jordan Lynde

sign of alarm, so I figured he hadn’t noticed me. He turned back to the front and shoved Mr. Heywood in front of him roughly. Then the same man put his head near the brunet’s head and I hazarded a guess he was saying something he didn’t want Mr. Heywood to hear.
    The brunet nodded to the blond and suddenly started going to the left, leaving Mr. Heywood alone with the blond. The one leaving crashed through the forest, not caring about the amount of noise he was making. My gaze stayed on him until he was out of sight. When he was gone, I returned my attention back to Mr. Heywood and the other guy, realizing they were almost out of sight. I hurried after them, going through the woods as fast as I could without tripping.
    Mr. Heywood and the other man entered a large clearing, and I stopped at the edge of it, hiding behind a conveniently placed tree. Its trunk was big enough to cover me and it had Y-shaped branches, so if I stood on the tips of my toes I could just barely see through the small hole it made. My eyes widened when I realized there were now two other men in the clearing, who stood in rigid positions, as if ready to attack. One of the men was completely bald—the same guy from the first night I’d met Mr. Heywood—and the other had long, shaggy red hair.
    The blond one led Mr. Heywood over to the other two, both of whom were shooting daggers at Mr. Heywood, who meanwhile looked totally calm, his shoulders relaxed, a bored expression on his face. An idea suddenly hit me. Were these guys his old gang members? I took in a sharp inhale of breath. I thought he was joking when he said he was an ex-gangster! Had he been telling the truth? Had he seriously been in a gang?
    “ You can’t leave just like that!” the bald guy suddenly shouted, making me jump in fright.
    I held my breath and shut my eyes, straining to hear everything that they were saying. Mr. Heywood’s voice was a lot quieter and harder to make out. Whatever he was saying was incoherent to me.
    “ The boss will be here soon, do you really want to deal with him?” the redhead demanded, sounding amused.
    I opened my eyes and stared in disbelief. The boss? Did that mean the gang leader? Were they going to attack Mr. Heywood in the woods? Is that why they brought him all the way out here?
    Mr. Heywood laughed loudly, the sound echoing slightly in the clearing. “He couldn’t beat me up in his dreams.”
    My hands tightened on the tree bark. What was Mr. Heywood doing? Did he want to be killed? I stared at the four men, unable to pull my gaze away. How could Mr. Heywood stay so calm when the other three men were putting up such threatening fronts?
    “ I wouldn’t be so cocky,” the other gangster warned, cracking his knuckles threateningly. “We dragged you out here for a reason, you know.”
    “ If it was to assault me, I know,” Mr. Heywood responded calmly. “That’s why I came—because I was sure I could handle Twinkies like you.”
    Unable to help myself, I snorted. Had he really just used the word Twinkies as an insult? The smile disappeared from my mouth when one of the gangsters swung towards Mr. Heywood without warning, but he took a step back, avoiding it was ease. A breath of relief left my lips.
    The blond scowled. “What did I say about being cocky?”
    “ I don’t remember,” Mr. Heywood responded mockingly, a fake frown on his face. “I’m sorry.”
    Suddenly I felt a hand over my mouth. My eyes almost bulged out of their sockets and I took a sharp inhale of breath through my nose, my heart rate increasing significantly. I struggled in the grasp of whoever had me as an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to my captor. I struggled harder, terror filling my veins.
    “ What do we have here?” a husky voice whispered in my ear. “A spectator?”
    I froze up, my breath shaky. Was this one of the gangsters as well? I looked over my shoulder slightly, recognizing the brunet man from before—the one who had been