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I wasn’t wrong with my gut reaction as I read the message from Noah, but I wasn’t wholly right either. I couldn’t have anticipated this level of euphoria, for either one of us.
Scar stands in the center of the room, staring at the dead bodies, a savage grin on her face as she takes it the utter chaos we caused.
If the guys knew how reckless we were when we approached the house, waltzing right through the front door without hesitation, they would spank her ass red and wring my neck.
It was worth the risk to hear the manic laughter that spills from her lips right now. I can’t help but join in with her.
Seven dead bodies litter the living room and kitchen. Scar lowers her hatchet and rests it against her leg as she once more takes in the bloodbath. Her eyes never stop as they wander over the mangled limbs.
When she first grabbed the weapon out of the trunk of the car, I didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t like us to be so unprepared, to not have a plan. Scar, more than anyone loves her plans. There was a small bit of trepidation that coursed through my veins as she grabbed the hatchet and headed to the door, but it was quickly replaced with confidence that this was not only the right, but something I needed too.
I took the biggest knives from the bag and followed after her, not even pausing as we reached the threshold. The rank smell of cigarettes, sweat, and booze wafted out of the house before we even opened the door. Sounds of arguing and laughter easily concealed our presence as Scar rushed in.
I had her back and knew she had mine.
She wasted no time before swinging her hatchet into the belly of the very first man she came across. It happened so quickly, he was already bleeding out on the floor, his organs seeping across the floorboards, before anyone even noticed our presence.
That didn’t last long, as Scar called attention to us while she laughed.
First confusion, then intrigue washed over their faces as they caught her in their sights. There was no fear as they looked down on her as if she were prey. Something that was theirs for the taking.
I reacted without thinking, not pausing to figure out the best course of action, or to even realize what I was doing. My blood was boiling as I could read the fucked thoughts they had about my girl right in front of me.
Knives left my hands and flung into their targets before so much as one step could have been taken in her direction. Her laughter grew louder as she watched two men fall, my knives sticking out of their necks.
The four remaining men were not amused, calling out threats and making sick promises to her of what they would do once they got their hands on her. My vision went black, all the while Scar cackled and swung her hatchet.
I don’t even know what happened next, as my anger took over and I didn't come to until moments ago, surrounded by blood and death and my psychopath girlfriend.
She looks down at the man still at her feet, the first one who met her hatchet. Somehow he’s still alive even as he barely seems able to keep his eyes open through the pain and blood loss.
She digs the toe of her boot into the mess that spills out of his torso, pulling his organs even further out of his body.
“That’s sick.” I chuckle as I walk up to her and wrap my hands around her waist, splaying my hands over the exposed skin on her midriff. A new feeling starts to build at the base of my spine. An eagerness to keep my promise from earlier.
She smiles, smashing her foot into the puddle of organs as the man wheezes before finally blacking out. “Not as sick as you cutting that guy’s fingers off and shoving them down his throat.”
I cough. Did I do that? Now that she says it, I might vaguely recall it. Maybe. To be honest it feels like a fever dream. Like I wasn’t even really here as the person doing it but was just an onlooker as I watched it unfold.
“He’s lucky I didn’t take a page from your book and cut off his dick to shove down his throat.” She laughs at the reminder of our first meeting and steps away from the mess at her feet, leaning into my chest. Her fingers draw circles as they move up my arms, thoroughly distracting me from anything else.
“How you feeling, Bosslady?” I ask. Her body posture is more relaxed than it's been since she woke up this morning to the news of Mary and Stephen’s deaths. I don’t think any of us were prepared for her to react the way she did.
I don’t know why we weren’t. It’s something that we should have been able to predict. I just never realized how important they were to her. The chief didn’t seem like someone she had all that much contact with when I met him at the fire. Though, if I had to guess, that's why it hit her harder.
Luca said he had good balance when asked if Stephen was one of ours. It didn’t wholly make sense back then, but now I can understand that he maintained a relationship with at least Scar, while never being in her pocket. He toed the line of light and dark. Kept his distance even while remaining friendly.
She sighs, there’s no more tension in her but her voice still sounds amped as she responds. “Like I’m ready for the other type of release you promised me.”
A smug grin comes over my face. “I can do that.” I wrap my arms under her ass and pull her up into my arms. She easily complies, wrapping her legs around my waist as I carry her out of the house and into the car.
This rundown house is in a bad neighborhood with a lot of known gang activity. Everyone here knows that there’s nothing to see so we don’t have to be as cautious. This murder house will be yet another legend that gets passed down on the streets about The Bleeding Roses, but it will never come back to hurt us.
I debate on where to take us, not ready to go home and have to share her again. I know the others are going to want to talk about everything that happened, and she isn’t ready for that.
Scar pops off an address that sounds familiar. I raise a brow and she shrugs. “It’s the closest safe house to us.”
That feeling from earlier eddies up inside of me again as I realize she wants alone time with me too. I love the guys and I don’t think this relationship would ever work without them, but sometimes I crave more of her. Pieces of her that are just for me. Moments that only we share.
