Slay (Storm MC 4)

The defeat I saw on her face killed me. It tore another fucking piece of my heart out. There should have been hope. After all this fucking time, she should be seeing the light and feeling real hope, but all he’d left her with was sadness and despair. “Yes,” she agreed softly.

“Thank Christ,” I said before hugging her again.

Relief flooded me, but the dark feelings of hatred and revenge stuck close like they always did.

Soon.

He’d be dealt with soon, and then, maybe she and I could finally find a way to move out of the darkness.

Chapter Three

Layla

I stood in the alleyway behind my bar and stared up at the inky sky. Full moon tonight. Fuck, I hoped the bar wasn’t about to be invaded by the crazies. Diverting my gaze down the alleyway, I took in the two drunks passed out, completely oblivious to the thief raiding their pockets.

“Hey!” I yelled out, stalking towards him.

His head snapped up, hard eyes meeting mine. “Fuck off, cunt,” he snarled, his voice full of venom.

Yeah, like fucking hell, asshole.

I ignored his directive, and when I got to where he now stood staring at me, I punched him hard in the face. The element of surprise never did me wrong. He staggered back, holding his face, surprised as fuck.

“What the fuck, bitch?”

“That was for trying to steal.”

He advanced towards me, hatred blazing from his eyes. His intent was clear, and as his arm came up to punch me, I kicked my leg out so my foot connected with his balls. At the same time, I ducked to avoid his punch and spun out to the side, away from him. The agony my kick induced, coupled with the momentum he had going with his punch, caused him to fall forward. He landed on his hands and knees, at which point I kicked him hard in the gut.

“Fuck!” He collapsed into a ball, arms around his stomach, his breathing choppy.

“That was for calling me a cunt.”

I walked to the drunks and prodded one of them with my boot. His eye cracked open and he gave me a what-the-hell look.

“Get up,” I snapped. “This asshole just tried to steal from you. It’s time to go home.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned back to the thief. Squatting, I said, “You think that hurt? If I see you here again, you’ll know what pain is. Your balls got off lightly this time.”

He grunted something unintelligible at me before attempting to stand.

I straightened and watched as he stood. My body tensed, waiting to see if he would try anything.

He glared at me. “Fucking bitch,” he grumbled, still clutching his stomach.

I raised my eyebrows. “Really, dude? You want to go there with me again?”

He muttered more shit I couldn’t understand before stumbling out of the alleyway. When he rounded the corner, and I could no longer see him, I allowed myself to relax.

Why did the world have to be full of scum like that?

I looked at the drunks. The one I’d woken up had passed out again. I gave him another prod. “Time to go home,” I ordered. Fat lot of good it did because he didn’t stir this time. Fuck it, his grave to dig, not mine to try and spare.

I headed back inside. I had better things to do than worry about people who didn’t worry about themselves.

***

I checked the time on my watch: eleven pm. The bar was busy for a Thursday night. Thank god, because our bills were coming out of our ass at the moment. It didn’t help that my business partner had disappeared two days ago. Also didn’t fucking help he’d been stealing from the business for god knows how long. It had taken great strength not to do serious damage to his body when I’d discovered that shit. One almighty screaming match later, and it looked like he’d skipped town. God knew how I’d pay the bills now.