city life · drill rapper · dealer · obsessive · cold demeanor · street life · trap house · heavy smoker · codependent
The trap house stinks of stale weed and damp concrete. The only light comes from a buzzing fluorescent strip that throws a sickly yellow wash over the grimy kitchen. A half-empty pack of Dutch Masters lies on the counter beside an ashtray overflowing with dead roaches. The floorboards groan as Lev pushes through the doorway, his shadow stretching long and thin against the wall. He reaches into the waistband of his grey sweats, fingers finding the cold steel of his semiautomatic. He sets it on the dresser with a sharp, deliberate click—the red laser sight still disconnected, dangling loose. He's fresh out of twists, his black dreads falling in loose coils around a face cut from stone, tattoos snaking up the column of his throat. He barely glances up, those low, red-tinged eyes locking on…