Alexander wanted to listen to what Valentino had to say to Ramsay, but as he found shelter in the shadows of the basement, staring off at the two men from different worlds, he found himself becoming distracted. His mind was wandering, running through an endless field, recounting recent memories. He thought back not only to Valentino's clear disdain of the way the gang leader had joked about his assault at the hands of Ramsay, but also at the way he had called him 'Alex'. That name was usually spouted by most of the Royals whenever they referenced him, though he hadn't heard Valentino use it until just then. Alexander wasn't stupid like Ramsay was. Detecting the small changes in people was what he did – he knew when he had agitated somebody, or when someone felt at ease with him. And Valentino calling him 'Alex' was one of those small, almost unnoticeable changes that he so often picked up on. It must have meant that the young man felt easy around this lifestyle, around
him. And honestly...Alexander didn't know how to feel about that. This wasn't meant to become a regular thing – Valentino by his side as he engaged in illegal activity. But with how relaxed the student had become, Alexander couldn't help but think and wonder. Wonder about if this really was 'it', if their time together ended with Ramsay's life. Part of Alexander wanted it to be that way, and yet another half of him wanted anything but that.
Ramsay's words began to echo in his mind, and he was suddenly thrust from dilemma and intrigue into fury. He wanted to kill Ramsay right there and then for uttering Mason's name, but he wouldn't do that. If he did, he knew that he would be failing not just himself, but also Mason's memory. Murdering people out of rage was not what that man would have wanted, especially not when it came to Ramsay. No, he was like Alexander – kill people when you are the most level-headed you can be, so you know that no mistakes will be made by your hand. It was a belief that Mason had reinforced in Alexander, like a prayer you said every night before bed, or a chant you whispered whilst meditating. It was there, lodged in Alexander's mind, stored away along with all of the memories of Mason.
Slowly, Alexander came back down to the real world, Valentino's words now more than just a faint muffle. He looked from the young man to Ramsay, wondering what on earth must have been going through his head. Here he was, in a predicament that he most likely assumed would never happen. How would anyone think in this situation, especially when staring down someone like Valentino. Maybe he thought he would have a merciful death, or maybe he though he had died when he felt that cloth over his mouth and nose in the car park. Either way, Alexander wondered what it was like to stare death in the face when death was Valentino.
I'd rather be staring death in the face than this little shit, Ramsay thought to himself as Valentino continued with his spiel. None of his initial words really affected the gangster, or at least, that was how he felt through his facial expression. It was a mixture of blankness and smugness, something that he had concocted in an attempt to frustrate Valentino and Alexander. Eventually, this look transitioned into one of boredom. He rolled his eyes as Valentino noted that 'getting duped' wasn't high on Ramsay's achievement list. If anyone looked at him, they may not have thought that he was coming close to his own death. He even let out a quiet as it appeared that Valentino had finished with his speech. However, Ramsay was wrong to think that – Valentino had some last words for him. Words that Ramsay was definitely not expecting.
The mention of Dylan had Ramsay reeling, and he snapped out of his bored disposition, staring Valentino right in the eye. At first, he refused to believe the student, firm in the belief that Dylan wouldn't sell him out like that, not to an annoying brat like Valentino. But then, as Valentino continued, that belief began to crumble into rage and betrayal, and Ramsay wanted to do nothing more than kill Valentino and throttle Dylan. How could he be so idiotic? Ramsay had told him countless times not to say anything about the gang to people outside of it, and what does he do when Ramsay isn't looking? The gangster was beyond angered now, his bared teeth and knitted brow showing that more than clearly. He pulled against the binding on his wrists, rocked against the beam, but there was no budging from where he was.
As Valentino finished his speech with an almost sing-song note, Ramsay lurched forward as far as his restraints would allow and growled,
"you little bastard!" He was seething, and if it were possible, he would be frothing at the mouth like a wild dog. His eyes shifted over to Alexander as he stood languidly in the background, and then they moved back to the student in front of him.
"You won't be going out with Dylan because you won't even make it out of the front door of this place. They'll kill you, you know. That's what they do. They killed one of their own – they killed his boyfriend, so what do you think they'll do to a little fucker like you?"
"Shut up, Dillon!" Alexander exclaimed, jolting out of the darkness and storming over to Ramsay. He leaned down in front of his rival, their gazes locked, like a bull and a matador.
"You don't know anything about that, and you're just lying. You killed Mason, you and your tribe of animals."
"Do you even remember where he was killed? Wasn't in my neighbourhood, you pompous twat. Oh, wasn't it..." Ramsay looked away, then met Alexander's eyes once again,
"yes, it was right outside your dad's house."
"That doesn't mean anything. One of your moronic cronies could have still been behind it. I wouldn't be surprised if one of your kind was skulking around outside of my father's home."
Ramsay laughed, the sound bellowing throughout the basement.
"You might think we're stupid, but we're not stupid enough to hang around Royal territory at night, especially not right outside your dad's house." Turning his head to look at Valentino, Ramsay grinned.
"You better leave while you still can, otherwise they'll murder you in cold blood on his doorstep."
A hard smack resounded through the basement. Alexander stood frozen, arm still in the air from where he had backhanded Ramsay across the face. It felt as if time had stopped, the two men stuck in place. But then, Ramsay inched his head back around, glaring at Alexander. His face was fixed into a scowl, eyes ready to kill. And then, the corners of his lips turned upwards. He smiled. Then he laughed once more. Alexander did nothing except watch him, disbelief washing over his face. He stared at Ramsay as if he were some unidentified object, some unknown species of animal. Gradually he lowered his arm and stood upright, gaze still transfixed on Ramsay. Alexander took a deep breath, closed his eyes. Exhaled. And still, Ramsay laughed. Though the sound soon died down, leaving only Alexander's heavy breathing in it's wake.
"What are you doing, your zen meditation techniques?" Ramsay mocked, ignoring the stinging in his cheek and smirking as if he hadn't just been struck hard across the face. Alexander didn't respond to him, instead taking one last deep breath and releasing it, before opening his eyes.
"I won't give in to you," Alexander told him after a second or two of silence.
"You want me to kill you out of rage, so the end won't be as delicious. But I won't do that Dillon. You won't make me. And you will not hurt me again by using Mason."
"I can't hurt you using Mason," Ramsay replied, unable to contain his smugness at what he was about to say.
"Because the bastard's dead. You saw them bury him. You stood there with the people who killed him, and you watched him get buried."
Alexander shook his head. Looking over to Valentino, he let out a long exhale.
"Valentino, do you--"
The door at the top of the basement stairs shot open, and the stairs creaked under the brisk weight of a group of men. Alexander turned to look over, brow furrowed. He had told no one to enter unless he allowed them to, so what was the meaning of this? However, when he saw who was leading the charge, he immediately realised what was going on.
"Alex," said the elderly man at the head of the group of Royals. His face read like a passive-aggressive letter, and he fixed Alexander with a pointed look. "What did I tell you about doing all of this here." He waved his gloved hands around the basement, gesturing at Ramsay and then pointing at Valentino.
"Father, I--"
"No, Alex. I don't want to hear it. I thought I taught you well, but apparently I was wrong. You could have made a fatal mistake." Mr. Fournier glanced over at Valentino, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "Though it seems you have made a rather damaging one already."
If he could, Alex would have explained himself. But his father would have none of it, and he wasn't willing to test the old man's patience. Especially not when he had his own 'personal guard' crowded behind him. Meanwhile, Ramsay was looking on with unabashed amusement, not quite believing what he was witnessing.
"Now, why don't you leave," Mr. Fournier told Valentino through raspy and jagged tones, nodding in the direction of the stairs. "Before I have to forcefully remove you from my son's home. It looks like there's plenty of men up there that would be willing to help with that."
Alexander looked to Valentino, worry creeping into his eyes.
"Go," he whispered to the young man, willing him through his expression to leave as soon as he could.