Chapter 1

~A Few Months Prior~

Tonight was the night I was going to approach them. Everything about them would make the average moral citizen go out of their way to avoid them: tattoos, piercings, leather jackets, bikes, owning a pub which was rumored to be a cover-up - a legal way for them to explain their income... They were the largest gang in the nearby towns yet no one could pinpoint what they were up to. Many people had tried to join but none had been accepted. It was as if The Silver Bullets were a family; either you were born as one of them or you were out.

I was unsure of as to what exactly had compelled me to try to gain their attention; I didn't even know how they'd react to the fact I was gay. Maybe they hated people like me; I had previously been burnt – metaphorically and literally – because of who I was.

I touched my right hand sleeve over the spot where the flames had permanently deformed the flesh. I refused to hide who I was even though it had brought me pain; I refused to cower and condemn myself to a life of loneliness because I was attracted to my own gender. No. This was it; this was the night when I'd either shine or my light would be forever extinguished with me lying cold in a gutter. And what was braver than to flirt with some of the fiercest men in town?

If I could do that, if I got through it, I would be able to walk with my head held high once more, just like it had been before he'd forced my arm over the blazing fire; if I didn't get through it, if these people were homophobic and cruel as he had been, then I would most likely die but I told myself that death was nothing compared to fear and loneliness.

I straightened the denim jacket I wore on the chillier summer evenings and crossed the street. My feet felt heavy but I tried to put a dose of carelessness in my gait; I'd always thought you could tell a lot about a person by the way they walked and I didn't want to appear weak and frightened; I didn't want to...

"You look like you are on your way to the guillotine," someone chuckled and once I turned around I saw a boy, perhaps a couple of years older than me, leaning on a bike. I immediately recognized him as one of them. It wasn't because I'd seen him and his almost unnaturally light blond hair before, nor because he was in the parking lot of their pub; it was because of him, the whole of him. Call it an aura, call it whatever you will, but there had always been something very feral about this bunch, something very primal. And then there was the way they looked upon those unlucky enough to catch their gaze; it was as if those outside their circle were a prey or a toy they'd like to sink their claws in. I'd never been this close to a member of The Silver Bullets, let alone be spoken to by one of them, and all the courage I'd thought I'd had dissipated under his pale, unwavering gaze.

The boy studied me with his head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed and calculating, for what seemed like an eternity. Once done with the examination, he drew a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and I released a tad of tension through a slow exhale as his eyes left my person to land on the flame he used to light his smoke with. He inhaled deeply then exhaled a thick cloud before he turned his attention back on me.

"You want one?" He extended the hand which still held the cancer sticks but once I shook my head, he returned them in the pocket of his jacket.

"So what do you want?" He asked and I realized, anxious, that I would actually have to speak this time in order to reply.

"Just taking a walk," I mumbled and as if my tone was not unconvincing enough, I looked away from him to hide my face.

"After you've been scouting the joint?" He said that in a neutral tone, neither accusing me of doing so, nor pleased with it.

My gaze shifted to him again. His body was loose, his facial features relaxed... There was nothing to signify he was a danger to me; nothing, apart from the general animalistic air about him.

I stroked the fabric over my marred skin again, reminding myself of my promise that I wouldn't let the assault hold me back and that I would do whatever it took to become a confident human being. This night was my rite of passage; I would not fail.

"You guys are hot so I decided to check you out," I blurted and my explanation sounded lame to my own ears even though what I'd said was true; every single man in their gang had the body of a God, the boy in front of me included. There was not an ounce of extra fat on him; sturdy muscles stretched the thin fabric of the white t-shirt he wore under his unzipped jacket; the skin-tight black jeans revealed slim but toned legs; his face... Oh, his face! Prominent cheekbones, pearly-white teeth behind a set of succulent lips and eyes to die for. He was without a doubt one of the handsomest people I'd ever encountered; so gorgeous, I wondered if he was even human. His eyes were now fixed on me, the ever present hint of danger making my palms sweat.

"That was pretty straight forward," he commented after briefly musing over my words. "My place or yours?"

"W-what?" I stammered, taking a step back.

"My place or yours," he repeated, using his leg to lightly push himself off the bike before he commenced walking, stopping only when he was unnervingly close to me. "We could do it quick right here in the parking lot, I don't mind, but I'd rather explore your body and that would require more comfortable settings."

"I..." I took another step back, but the space between us was still too scarce.

This had not been a part of my plan. I'd intended to come to the pub, chat them up, flirt a little and then leave before anyone thought I was offering some easy booty.

"Oh, don't tell me you've changed your mind," he murmured, grinning as if my turmoil amused him. He stepped towards me, coming closer than he'd been before and placed the cigarette between his lips, the pale eyes raking over my body through the smoke he exhaled.

The fear I'd tried so hard to overcome returned with full force, paralyzing my body. I could barely take in a shaky breath, I couldn't speak and I sure as Hell couldn't move my feet and run away to safety, not even when the door to the pub opened and out came four other members of the gang. Their chatter ceased when their eyes landed on me, shaking violently, and I was sure that even from where they stood, they could see my body's trepidation. They approached us slowly, two of them curious, one disappointed and one deadpan.

"What have you done to this boy, Alec?" The eldest guy – the one looking disappointed – asked in a tired tone. "He looks absolutely terrified."

"I didn't even touch him," the boy who I now knew was called Alec replied.

"Your manipulative ass is scary enough even without a physical contact, bro," one of the curious ones put in.

"He thought he was looking for a hookup and I volunteered," Alec explained in a bored voice and I relaxed a tiny bit as I saw none of the newcomers looked angry or disgusted with the idea of two boys being together.

"He thought?" Mr. Curious Number Two repeated.

"I'm not sure he knows what he wants," Alec informed them and everyone looked at me; everyone but the deadpan guy who had closed his eyes, his chest heaving slowly.

"All of you get back to the pub," he murmured and by the time he opened his eyes about a minute later, each of them – even the eldest one who had to be his senior with at least a decade – had complied, no questions asked, no protests uttered.

As this boy – no, man, looked at me, I came to realize I'd been wrong; not everyone in the gang seemed as if they wanted to pounce on you. Sure, the animalistic presence was there, but it was soothing like that of a beloved family pet instead of a wild creature which planned to snack with your flesh. He stood quiet, still, keeping his distance as if giving me time to compose myself and I was grateful for his mercy and patience. Once my breathing and heart rate were back to normal, I opened my mouth and muttered "thank you" before I even realized I was about to speak. I was unsure of which I was more grateful for – him sending Alec away or that he'd allowed me personal space – but either way, he deserved my gratitude.

"I'll drive you to your home," he said in a tone so certain, there was no doubt his words were not a request. Even so, I couldn't obey him; I didn't want a member of The Bullets knowing my address, be it one who seemed to mean me no harm.

"I'll walk," I mumbled meekly but my words were followed by an immediate protest:

"It's about to rain."

"I'll call a cab," I tried again but he shook his head and outstretched his arm to point to a nearby car.

"I'll drive you," he repeated, walking towards the vehicle but not before giving me a look showing he would not put up with any form of objection.

I dragged myself after him, my eyes widening as he held the passenger door open for me once I'd reached it; then I realized: this was no gesture of courtesy, he just wanted to make sure I got in the vehicle. The door produced a low thud when he closed it once I'd taken my seat and I watched helplessly as the brunet walked around the car and got in as well. It was a small comfort that he did not lock us in; technically I could still get out and try to make a run for it, but what good would that bring me?

There was no doubt he would chase me and I was just as certain that he would catch me; my slim built was due to genes and somewhat to a period of scarce meals, and his muscles were definitely the outcome of regular and strenuous workouts.

"Buckle up," he turned towards me, uttering yet another order; apparently he was used to giving them. Maybe he was a big shot in their gang; not the leader – everyone knew who the leader was – but perhaps his second in command; it would explain why the guys from earlier obeyed him.

I got distracted from my musings about his probable rank in their grouping and found myself staring at his face instead. His features were not as beautiful as those of Alec, but he was quite handsome. I envied the blend of green and grey that was his eyes while I was stuck with a common, boring brown shade. His jaw was also a trait I wish I had; it was strong and masculine, nothing like my effeminate outline. When I thought of it, all of his features were appealing except for the scars; they added an extra touch of ruggedness but I dreaded to think how he could've gotten them. While I could hide mine under my sleeve, those four faint lines were visible to everyone who got near him. They began on his left cheek, sliding down his throat, their ends hidden under the collar of the black leather jacket all gang members were doned in.

"Buckle up," he insisted again and this time I did as I was told. Only then did his eyes leave me to focus on the road as he drove out of the parking lot.

"Where do you live," his voice was quiet, contained, and I began to suspect he was putting in extra effort to seem less intimidating. That said, I was still reluctant to give him my address, but in the end, what could I do?

I was already in his car and the vehicle was moving. Was I to jump out like a stuntman and risk my life?

I silently cussed at my own stupidity. How could I, even for a second, have thought that coming to their gathering point could be a good idea?

That I could somehow walk out without any consequences?

But it was too late now; I should've known better when I dressed up and walked out of my apartment tonight. I muttered my address and wrapped my arms around my torso, imagining they were the comforting embrace of someone dear.

"Are you cold?" He asked and I shook my head. "So I still managed to frighten you." It was an observation, not a question, and I turned my gaze away from the road and to his face, examining it. I'd thought I'd heard a note of disappointment in his tone, but his posture gave nothing away; neither tensed, nor relaxed, he kept his eyes forward and his mouth shut during the ride, except for the time he'd offered to turn on the radio to whichever station I wanted. I'd gladly accepted the change as the silence between us had been heavy and was pleasantly surprised to discover that once he switched on the radio, it was already on the wavelength of a station I favored.

When he stopped in front of my apartment building, I didn't know if I should thank him or not; yes, it would be the polite thing to do, but he hadn't actually given me the option to refuse him. In the end, I settled for a "drive home safely" which earned me a small smile from him resulting in a twitch in my chest; he had the kindest of smiles.

He did not immediately drive away, waiting for me to get in the building, which struck me as odd and while I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, I mused on possible reasons for his behavior. I opened the door to my small apartment, sighing as I realized I would never do better than guessing; I could only guess his motives for sending his friends away, I could only guess his motives for driving me home and I could only guess his motives for staying until I got inside. One of the reasons for the last was that he'd wanted to make sure I hadn't lied about my address and that I indeed lived here. But why would he be interested in that?

Was he planning to rob me?

I laughed at the absurdity of anyone expecting I actually had something worth stealing. My parents had disowned me as soon as I'd come out about two years ago I'd been on my own since then. I'd lived on the streets for a while and in shelters for homeless people until one winter night I almost froze to death in a park and a kind old lady had taken me in and nursed me back to health. I'd stayed with her "working" as her caretaker. She had children and even grandchildren but none of them ever called, let alone come over; they were too busy enjoying their own lives to visit the nice soul she had been. I'd lived with her for about a year before she died. Her heirs finally showed up and I was disgusted to find out it was so the three of them could argue over who had the right to own the house now instead of to pay their last respects. They had promptly kicked me out and that would've been the last I'd heard of them if on the day of her funeral her lawyer had not approached me to inform me she'd left me a small amount of money. Her sons and daughter had tried to dispute my claim to them but the lawyer had been honest enough not to allow it. I'd used my inheritance to move here and rent this apartment. As I thought about my dwelling, it came to my mind that even though the gang member who drove me here and whose name I had not asked for knew which building I lived in, he did not know the number of my apartment. The realization pushed some of the anxiety away. The tension not having left my body completely, I decided to take a shower; one long, long, relaxing shower.

*****

A/N: So what do you think of the story so far?

Do you like the characters?

Do you think that Rhys – because as you've probably guessed it, the man who brought Riley home was Rhys – stayed to scout Riley's building and rob him or could he have had other motives?

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE CHAPTER ENOUGH TO VOTE!

Have a great time on wattpad, everyone!

PS: For those of you who are Hunt Me Down fans – I have not given up on that story, nor am I putting it on hold; it's a priority to me and will be updated at the same speed as it usually is (four or five days between uploads) while You are the Answer will probably be posted once every seven to ten days (unless I'm really inspired; then it will be more often).