The Secrets That Find Us (The Devils Dust MC Legacy)

Gasping with surprise, I let the blind go and I step away from the window out of sight. Something bad happened and Bugs is pissed! I’m here all by myself and nowhere to turn. Hands in my hair, I look around the room frantically. Adrenaline runs through my veins like a drug and my mind races with what to do next. Should I hide, call for help? No, fuck that. Opening a drawer, I snatch a sharp knife. If he wants me, he’ll have to fight me first. I’ll cut their fucking throats. Slowly walking back into the living room, my hand shaking with the knife in my palm, I sit on the couch and stare at the dark staircase across from me; waiting. Time passes from seconds to minutes, and nothing has happened. My heart calms to a regular rhythm and I exhale a breath and sit back on the couch, the knife still in my sweaty palm. My eyes fall to my phone and the thoughts of calling my dad for help passes through my mind.

God, he’d love that. I’d never hear the end of it. No, I can’t call him. Besides, nobody will get here in time if something goes down tonight. I’m going to have to handle this myself. One thing is for sure, this isn’t the place for me. What would my dad tell me to do if I did call him?

He’d tell me to be smart and confident. Be the fighter he taught me to be. Standing up, I drop the knife. I need my gun. I head to my bedroom, I flip my pillow onto the floor and grab my nine-millimeter. My father wanted me to get something bigger, but I love this little bitch. She fits my hand perfectly and is sleek and dangerous. Pulling back the chamber, I make sure it’s loaded with ammo to spare. Dad taught me how to handle a gun better than a straight iron, and I’m so thankful for that right now.

Suddenly, the lights go off. Silence deafening, I freeze, darkness enveloping me in the unknown. Was that the storm, or them?

A noise comes from the stairwell and my eyes widen. It’s the door handle, someone is trying to get in. Pressing my back against the wall just next to the door, I look into the hall toward the stairs. It’s too dark though, I can’t see anything.

The rattling of the knob stops and then a loud bang makes me jump. Closing my eyes, I swallow the dry lump in my throat. They kicked the door in, they’re coming. Opening my eyes, I push the fear away and remind myself I’m the daughter of a Devil. Killing is in my blood, violence is my game, and this is just another day.

“Here kitty, kitty,” Bugs’ malicious voice taunts. His boots thud each step he takes. Is he by himself? I can take him if it’s just him.

His feet scuff to a halt when he reaches the top of the stairwell, but I can’t see him from the lights being off, so I don’t know if he’s headed this way or going another?

“You can’t hide, baby, I can smell you.” Chuckling, I notice his voice is louder than before.

Shit, he’s getting closer. I close my eyes and try to calm my labored breathing just as a shadow passes across my face. My eyes snap open, a sour smell of body odor and leather slipping around me and strangling me into holding my breath as he walks into my room right in front of me. My eyes adjusting to the dark, I can finally see him, he’s right in front of me with his back toward me. It’s I find him or he finds me.

Building my strength, I firmly hold the gun in my hand and step forward, pressing it into his back.

“I’m not your fucking baby,” I hiss.

A light suppressed chuckle comes from him, he’s not the least bit scared I have a nine-millimeter against his spine. Lightning outside lighting the room just enough for me to see him turn his head to the side.

Finger on the trigger, I apply pressure, ready to shoot this mother—

A hard hit to my head sends me flying into the wall, the gun slipping from my hand and dropping to the floor somewhere near the bed.

Another hearty laugh echoes from the doorway. Bugs wasn’t alone.

“You were right, she’d have a gun,” Bugs says around a chuckle with amusement. My eyes still adjusting to the dark, I spot four boots right in front of me. Head thudding with a harsh sting, I use my hands to push myself up off the floor. Just as I’m about to stand, a wet boot slams into my face.

Coming to, my face throbs, my ribs press into someone’s shoulder as my head swings back and forth. I’m being carried. Blinking, trying to clear my blurry vision, the floor of the empty station comes into view. Groaning in pain, the door opens and whoever is holding me takes us outside. Where is he taking me? I need to get down. I need to run!