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“I said get the fuck off me before I kill you,” I hiss right in his face. “You think what? You’ll come here, throw some threats around, and I’ll be scared? I’ll tell you everything and betray them? Fuck that. You wannabe gangbangers don’t fucking scare me, now get the hell out of my club before I take your guns and shoot you with them.” Some of it is bravado, but the rest is true anger and intent. With one last look, I turn and leave to go to the back, flinching at the whispered, “Damn, I like them when they fight.”
Once backstage, I swallow hard as a shiver goes through my body and quickly grab my phone. I may be good, but even I know I can’t take four of them with guns. Doesn’t mean I won’t try, but I’m betting they will wait until I finish work to catch me outside, so I text the only people I know who can help me—Crew. They will come, and they will help me.
They will protect me.
Me:SOS. Some creeps here at the bar are threatening me over you guys. Get here now before I kick their asses.
I send it in the group chat before pocketing my phone, turning back to the mirror, and shaking off the feel of his slimy touch. I have a show to finish, and no one, not four wannabe bad men, is going to stop that. Once upon a time, I would have shit myself when I faced them, but that’s the dead Blair, the one from before... this. Before all the death, pain, and suffering. The abuse and the late nights where I lay in bed, terrified of the handle turning. The hits, both physical and emotional. No, that Blair is dead, and right now I’m not scared. I’m fucking angry.
Just as my phone vibrates, the door flies open behind me. I already know who I’ll find, and I rapidly look around, realising everyone else is on stage. Fuck.
Stupid, Blair, very stupid.
“Didn’t think you’d get away that easily, did you?” He smirks, their bodies filling the door so I can’t escape. I could go up on stage, but I refuse to run. I’m fucking sick of it, so instead I stand taller and grin at them. They expect me to be scared, to call Crew crying and just let them threaten and hurt me to get back at them.
Yeah, fuck that. They haven’t ever met someone like me.
They move closer, and I nod at the door. “Might want to close that so no one hears you scream.”
“You think you’re so brave? So fucking safe because you’re hopping on all the Crews’ dicks?” he sneers, pissed off. One of the guys reaches for his gun, and I keep track of them as I make sure I’m not cornered. If need be, I’ll run onto the stage. Serina will understand after she kicks their low-life asses.
“No, I think I’m brave because I’ve been dealing with assholes like you my entire life. You think you’re scary? Bitch, please, I’ve faced down a fucking murderer. You are just boys playing with guns too big for you. Last warning, get the fuck out before you get hurt. I won’t tell you again. You might be scared to go after Crew directly, but there’s a reason why they are obsessed with me and why everyone else in this city fears me—I’m just as crazy as they are.”
“Get the bitch. Let’s show her what real men do with mouthy cunts like her,” he orders.
Cracking my neck, I move to the left and grin. “Don’t go crying that I didn’t warn you.”
They move towards me, and I duck the first set of hands, kicking out and using the dressing table for support. I catch him in the balls, and he goes down hard. The skinny fucker manages to catch my leg though, so I turn and kick backward until he falls, and when the other man hesitates, I slam my fist into the mirror over and over.
“What the fuck?” one of them yells.
I ignore the sharp pain and the feel of the skin on my knuckles splitting as the glass fractures, splintering. When it’s broken enough for me to extract a huge piece, I stop, cutting my fingers in the process. My blood coats my hand, making it slippery as I turn, holding the bloodied glass in my grasp. I gesture for them to come again.
“Come on then. I’ll cut off your balls and give them to Crew.”
“Fucking little bitch!” one of them hisses, and he grabs for me, but I’m too far gone. I’m consumed by anger, and my survival instincts are kicking in. I slash, stab, and swing like a wild woman until they have no choice but to stumble back and try to escape me. They thought they had me cornered, but instead, I’m like a fucking wild trapped animal.
Deadlier.
I manage to catch one across his cheek, cutting deep, and his blood sprays in an arc as he falls into the door with a scream. Panting, I watch them with narrowed eyes. “Get out now before it’s your throats.”
With one last look at me, they quickly race to the door. “Fuck this. The crazy bitch ain’t worth it!” I kick the door shut behind them before sagging against it, the glass dropping from my numb, bloody fingers.
“Shit, that was fun,” I mutter just as the girls troop off stage.
“Oh my God, Blair, what happened?” Lexi screams and runs to me. “Allegra, get security now!”
“Tell them it’s four assholes, one with a bloody face.” I nod at her. “Lexi, will you get me a first aid kit... and maybe some wipes? I got blood everywhere.” I laugh.
Allegra looks me over before smiling. “Hell of a fight, kid. Well done.”
I nod as Lexi leads me to the stool at my broken dressing table and starts to fuss over me. She speaks with kind, soft words as the other girls stare and whisper. Let them. It does make my cheeks heat in embarrassment, even though I don’t care what people think. I already know. They think I’m trouble, no good, trash.
Allegra comes back a bit later and tells me they are gone. I take over for a crying, worried Lexi and clean my hand and start to dress it, assuring her I’m okay. Allegra won’t let me dance, but the other girls and Lexi have to go back on stage, making me promise to stay close and scream if I need anything. I have no doubt security is right outside the door, so I settle back, wrapping my bloody hand with a wince. Now that the adrenaline is gone, it’s starting to hurt like a bitch, but it’s just another scar to add to my collection. Hell, if I don’t get a scar after surviving a near miss, is it even true?
I can feel my phone vibrating like crazy. Fuck, I bet that’s Crew. I must have missed it in all the chaos. I’m just about to answer when the door slams open for the second time this evening.
They burst into the dressing room as I’m wrapping my hand. Cyrus is there first, sweeping me up and checking over every inch of me. All of them demand to know what happened, throwing question after question my way until I can’t help but laugh. I don’t know how they got through security, but it shouldn’t surprise me.
