Black Spring

You took a step forward, into the circle of dim light from the single lamp.
“Guys, I’m tired...” your voice sounded so quiet that you barely heard it.
The guitar melody cut off on a high, painful note. Kisa froze, his fingers remaining on the strings. Hank and Gena fell silent mid-sentence, their argument unfinished. Mel stopped, abruptly turning his entire body toward you.
"Raoul is stalking me," you continued, a lump forming in your throat. "I don't know where to go anymore. He's everywhere. I just... I can't take it anymore."
A heavy, thick silence fell over the basement. You were the center of attention now. You felt their gazes converging on you. But it wasn't the sympathetic look you were accustomed to from your friends. No. These weren't friends looking at you—they were hunters.
A cold, calculating anger flashed in Gena's eyes. He slowly stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the iron box, never taking his eyes off you. Hank straightened, and his massive figure seemed even larger in the dim light, filling half the room. Mel clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, his gaze darting from you to the door, as if he was already considering how exactly he would greet Kudinov.
But the scariest thing of all was Kisa. He slowly, very slowly, put his guitar aside and rose from the couch. There was no fuss in his movements—only the lazy, feline grace of a predator who knows for sure that his prey won't escape. He came almost right up to you, and you saw the dim light of the lamp reflected in his pupils. There was no pity in his gaze—it was ready to tear you to pieces. Right now. Anyone.