Chapter Text
The whiskey burned going down, but Trevor Philips barely flinched. He swirled the glass, watching the amber liquid cling to the sides, debating whether to hurl it at the bartender just to liven things up.
Two men approached his booth, their expressions careful, guarded. One was broad and stocky, the type who looked like he’d done his share of muscle work for the Blood Crows. The other, lean and sharp-eyed, exuded a quiet menace that spoke of control. This was Vince “Viper” Moretti—the man who ran the Blood Crows with an iron fist. He was dressed in a crisp, tailored suit, a jarring contrast to the dingy bar and rough clientele.
Trevor didn’t bother looking up at them. He took a slow sip of his drink, as if daring them to try and fill the silence.
Viper was the first to speak, his voice cold and steady. “Philips. Thanks for coming. I’ve got a job for you.”
Trevor snorted. “A job? For me? What—you already runnin' out of Crows to do the dirty work for ya?”
Viper smirked, undeterred. “It’s important. Something I think you’re the best person to handle.”
“Yeah, yeah. Save me the pitch. Spit it out, Viper. What do you want?” Trevor’s voice was a low growl, rough-edged and dripping with impatience that he didn’t bother to hide.
Viper leaned forward. His bodyguard's expression stayed blank. “There’s someone I need you to grab. Not her fault, but she’s close to someone who’s become a problem for us. I need him reminded who he’s dealing with.”
Trevor’s brows furrowed, a scowl deepening on the corners of his mouth. “A problem, eh? And who might this be?”
“Jack Hamilton. The lawyer,” Viper added, his voice dropping. “Guy’s been trying to pull back from his dealings with us. We don’t take kindly to that sort of thing. I need you to take his girlfriend on… a little 'vacation'.”
“A lawyer?” Trevor raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He sounded unimpressed, almost bored. “What’s he doin’ messing with you?”
Viper’s expression hardened, his tone clipped. “That’s for us to know, Philips. Let’s just say he’s been straddling the line a little too long, playing both sides. We trusted him, and he went and did something stupid. Thinks he can walk away without consequences. We’re not about to let him off that easy.”
Trevor leaned back in the booth, letting the silence stretch. Typical Blood Crows—amateurs in nice suits, he thought.
These pricks like putting on the Serious-Guy Act, but they're all posers who spend more time talking about crime than doing it. Bet Viper even calls them into boardrooms to have meetings with whiteboards and targets.
Gangsters getting involved with lawyers? Always going to get messy. Trevor knew the only reason they'd come to him was because they liked to keep their hands clean. They needed someone with enough of a spine to pull this off without leaving any traces that could lead back to them.
But still. It didn't stop the proposition from intriguing him.
“Right…” Trevor started, scratching the stubble on his jaw like he was giving it some serious thought. “His girl? So, what is this? You need me to go in, snatch her, and hold on to her while you send your little message?”
“Exactly.”
“And what’s in it for me?” he asked, his tone severe now, cutting through the calculated calm Viper had been trying to maintain. “You don’t think I’d do this just for kicks, do ya? C’mon, Viper—I’m a busy guy. Got my own shit goin' on.”
Viper tilted his head. “Oh, don’t worry, Philips. You’ll be compensated. More than enough for your trouble. And it settles… a certain debt.”
Trevor huffed out a mocking laugh. “Ahhh, right! Yes, that's it! The good old ‘settling of debts’ routine. You’ve got it all figured out, huh?” He eyed Viper, searching for any crack in that polished calm. “I didn't ask for that favor. What makes ya think I’m interested in wasting my time on some lawyer’s girl? Sounds like a hell of a hassle. Not exactly my style.”
“You get things done,” Viper replied quickly, almost eager. “That’s why I thought of you. You don’t have to follow a script, just… do it. We don’t care how. And besides, it’s just one hostage. Should be easy work for you. She doesn’t even need to get hurt…”
He paused, his gaze darkening, voice chilling.
“...Unless necessary, of course. Look, this is just about sending a message, not making a mess. Hamilton needs to be taught a lesson, and this girl is just the way to deliver it. Consider her the leverage he’s long overdue.”
Trevor fell silent, eyes narrowing as he considered it. They’d painted her as nothing but a pawn—an inconvenient piece to be moved around to push some asshole into submission. It sounded simple.
Too simple.
The detached way Viper talked about it felt too clean, too rehearsed. There had to be more to the story. There always was.
But underneath his irritation and reluctance, Trevor felt the thrill creeping in. The thought of the chase, the raw adrenaline... it was like a pulse he couldn’t ignore, something he needed to feel alive.
It’d been nearly a whole year since The Big One. He hadn’t exactly been behaving himself, but the heist had forced him to lay lower than usual, to keep his head down more than he liked.
And he was bored out of his skull.
He was always searching for a little spark, itching for a break from the monotony—and now these two were handing him exactly what he craved on a nice, easy platter.
With a slow, dangerous smirk, Trevor finally looked up at them, eyes dark with excitement.
“Fine. I’ll do it. But let’s get one thing straight—you don’t tell me how, and you don’t ask any questions about what happens. I take care of things my way. Understood?”
The corner of Viper’s own smirk twitched.
“Understood.”
Trevor leaned forward again, too close.
“Good. Now get out of my booth.”
They left as quickly as they’d come, leaving Trevor alone in the darkness with nothing but his drink and his thoughts. His mind was already racing, filling in the details, piecing together how he’d make it work. He’d need to know her routine, her habits, find out what made her vulnerable. But first, he’d send Ron on a little research mission—he wanted to know more about the target’s connection, the man this job was really about.
Trevor drained his drink and stood, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline building inside him.
The hunt was on.