Pride, Mates, and Past Mistakes

I Give A History Lesson to Casey, Nolan and Cody

==WARNING: This is a long chapter. It was 23 pages on word XD Brace yourselves==

*Isophene pronounced like Is-eff-own-ee, like you would pronounce the name Persephone*

The fact that he was angry was an understatement.

Man people expressed their anger in many different ways—throwing things around, punching objects (or people, in some unfortunate cases), or maybe even simply yelling profanities at another with all their might.

But James, James was different.

When he was angry you wouldn’t be able to tell, not at first. But maybe, if you knew him well or took some time to notice his clenched fists, and the muscle ticking in his jaw, you might notice that there was something off with him.

But worst of all…were his eyes.

Dull, green, and unusually stony, the glare his eyes gave off in that moment expressed a thousand of those punches, screams, and profanities a normal man might do in anger all at once.

This wasn’t just the glare of any angered man.

 No, this was the glare of someone who was ready to kill.

Gathered around him at the dimly lit table were six others who echoed his stony mood. The girl with the silvery white hair,—no older than seventeen at most—sat calmly with her legs crossed, her eyes looking out and away from everyone in the table. The other woman next to her—a beautiful woman, pleasing to the eye—sat just as calmly as the white-haired girl, although her fingers tapping on the table gave away some of her inner state of mind.

Next to the woman sat a large, chocolate skinned, burly man in a black leather jacket. He wasn’t moving at all. In fact, one would only realize he was even breathing after watching him closely for a few minutes to even notice the slight rise and fall of his shoulders. Next to him slouched a pale young man, maybe in his twenties, and with his pale skin and lithe, small stature, he contrasted deeply with the burly man adjacent to him.

Next to the pale boy sat a young, olive-skinned girl, who was the only one in the place who looked relaxed and—quite bored, on the contrary. She was examining her nails in boredom, every once in a while reaching up to fluff her wavy black hair, and occasionally touching the top of her head, wincing, as if there was a bruise on it.

 Beside her was another man, who looked highly out of place next to all the others. While the other six were in smudged and dirty casual clothes, and covered from head to toe with scratches and cuts along their faces and arms, this man had on a sleek black suit, and he looked of perfect physical health. His eyes were frantic, darting around at the rest as if they would all burst into flames any moment; and his hand was tapping on the table with an erratic, nervous rhytym.

“Well, Eric?” Jacob asked monotonously from beside the suited man. “What do they think happened?”

The man in the suit swallowed nervously before answering. “They believe it to be work of teenage vandalism and break-in. Since we shut down the video cameras, they have really no way of knowing what exactly went down in the coffee shop. No blood was shed, and they can hardly find evidence since the water sprinklers that went off covered everything in water.”

Jacob barked a bitter laugh. “Teenage vandalism and break-in. They weren’t far off on that one.” He cut his eyes back to Eric. “How about you? Any news from your agents? Were they able to find anything?”