Scars (The Triad 1)

SCARLET

The “honey, I’m home” bit did not perform as well as I had hoped. I was hoping for at least a few laughs, but all three of them just stared at me like I had lost my mind. Maybe it was the blood smeared all over my face, but still, they could’ve at least given me a smile. Selfish fucks.

They did all stop in the middle of their individual fights to look at me, and my ego soaked it up like a sponge. I expected it to be chaos when I walked in. But as I looked around, they had pretty much been able to either subdue or kill anyone that was still left in the open room. The smell was terrible though. My nose burned with the scent.

Elliot was grappling on the ground with a guy and finally got sick of it and pressed the barrel of his gun to the dude’s forehead and shot. Blood spattered onto his face, and he sagged over onto the ground, panting and gripping his side. His hand turned red with blood, and I ran over to him, kneeling next to his side.

“Did you get yourself fucking stabbed?” I asked him as I pulled his hand away from his side. He winced but let me roll up his shirt to look. The gash was torn and bleeding with every ragged breath he took.

“I’m fine. Let’s just torch this fucking place and go,” he ground out. I rolled my eyes and took off the gun holsters and then slipped my shirt over my head. His eyes drifted to my sports bra where I could feel my nipples straining against the chill. He groaned and laid his head back. I just smiled.

“Shut up. You aren’t going anywhere until this is wrapped around to try and help stop the bleeding.” I rolled up the torso of the shirt and placed it against the wound. I had been wearing long sleeves, so I stretched them across his hard stomach and then under his back and tied them together on the opposite side. I really had to stretch and pull them for it to work, but at least it was pressing tightly against the wound.

Just as I finished, “Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry started blasting out of the speakers, and a new group of guys kicked down the doors I had just come from.

“Well,” I said, picking my guns back up and crawling over Elliot to block his body from further assault, “at least they have some good taste in music.” Before they could see me move, I aimed and shot four of them. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, but when I tried to shoot the two others that had burst in, Elliot grabbed me around the waist, flipping me over his body until he was on top of me. The shots I had gotten off before he rolled me over pinged off the ceiling.

“What the fuck, Elliot?” His hair fell limp around his face, and his eyes were so dark they almost looked black as they looked down at me. His entire body was flush against mine with his forearms on either side of my face to hold himself up. He winced at the pain in his side. I tried to shimmy out from under him, but it was like lying under a house. More shots rang out from the other side of the room.

“Stop. Moving.” His voice came out deep and rough. I felt him grow hard against my belly, and I smirked up at him.

“Happy to see me, babe?” I reached up and gave him a peck on the nose. “Now get off of me,” I said before I pressed my fingers into his wound. He let out a not-so-manly scream before falling off me. I knew it was a low blow, but he wasn’t going to keep me from helping the other guys. I sat up and grabbed one of the tables that were nearby. I pushed it over, drug supplies scattering across the floor, and yanked it in front of both of us. I peeked over the top, and a bullet flew past my head.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, dropping back below the table. “I almost got shot in the face!” I exclaimed to Elliot and laughed. He just groaned and looked at me with a death stare. I was probably going to pay for that little move later.

Worth it.

I felt a little manic with all the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I tried to steady my breathing as I heard more gunfire. I looked over at where I had last seen Tristan and Seb. The former was gripping what looked like a graze wound on his arm while the latter had been able to take the rest of them out. Seb crouched down to look at Tristan’s wound and gave me a nice view of his ass which I appreciated.

Pulling my eyes from his shapely bum, I looked around the room, taking count of how many people we had killed in the span of fifteen minutes. It was a lot. I was actually impressed. I scrunched my nose at the dried blood on my face. It was really starting to itch now that it was getting crusty. Probably should’ve thought of that before I decided to smear it all over my cheeks. I had made it to the count of ten dead bodies when I saw someone reaching for a gun, his fingers straining at the effort.

I stood up from behind the table and watched him struggle. He was so focused on getting the gun and not being seen by Sebastian and Tristan that he didn’t even see me make my way over to him. I had only made it a few steps before his fingers finally gripped the gun, and he slowly lifted it. It was pointed directly at Seb.

I saw red. Every rational thought flew out of my head. I could hear my blood roaring in my ears.

“Hey,” I said loud enough for him to hear over the music that was still blaring. Was anyone going to turn that off? He turned his head towards me, and the gun quickly followed. There was the vague feeling of being pushed in the shoulder, hard. I realized he had shot me. The fucker had shot me. Once I had recognized what happened, pain shot through my shoulder like a white-hot poker.

“Motherfucker,” I said under my breath. I saw his finger squeeze the trigger a few more times in a panic as I made my way over to him, but nothing came out. I felt the sadistic smile creep over my face. I must’ve really looked the part because this asshole pissed his pants when I finally reached him and kicked the gun out of his hand. He screamed in pain, and my smile only grew wider. I straddled his waist, well above the puddle of piss in his pants, and grabbed one of the knives out of my boot.

“You tried to kill my boys,” I said sweetly as I flicked open the blade and admired it. He held up his hands and babbled something about being sorry. “Too late, babes,” I said before stabbing the knife into the side of his throat. I wasn’t sure exactly where the carotid artery was, but I was pretty sure I hit it with the amount of blood gushing out of the wound and onto my hand.

I pulled the knife out of his neck as gurgled noises came out of his mouth. I reared back and stabbed him again. And again. One for each of my boys. Then again for the asshole that tried to rape me. Again for the father that tried to have me killed. And again. And again. And again. I lost track of how many times I actually stabbed him.

All I could feel was the flesh and muscle tearing. His body twitched between my legs with each puncture. My vision blurred, and my throat was so dry it ached. I realized I was crying. And screaming. I was raising my good arm above my head, gripping the knife so tightly that my fingers went white underneath all of the blood, and then throwing my weight behind each thrust into his body. I was a woman possessed. I shoved it into his chest one last time with one final scream. My body shook with sobs.

“Scarlet.”

“What!” I whipped my head around, my hand still bloody and clinging to the knife embedded deep in dude’s chest, the other arm hanging limply at my side. Seb was crouched behind me, his eyes soft but other parts of him very, very hard. I licked my lips, and the iron taste of blood coated my tongue.

“He’s dead, pet.” He reached out and grabbed my bad arm, pulling me onto his lap. I screamed at the pain, but it only seemed to spur him on. His eyes were like a wild animal, almost predatory. He ran his hands over my face and then down to my neck. I could feel the fresh blood smear across my skin. His eyes heated as they found the bullet wound. He gave it a rough squeeze, and I whimpered as more tears fell down my cheeks, but my pussy throbbed at the pain. He smiled like he knew what he was doing to me. Like he knew how fucked-up I was that the pain of getting shot and the act of killing someone had gotten me wet.

My hands reached up and gripped his face, smashing it to my own. He parted his mouth instantly. It wasn’t a kiss; it was a fight. Our tongues wrestled as our teeth clashed. I tasted my tears, blood from either the roughness of our kiss or the dead body next to us, it didn’t matter, and something that was just utterly Seb. I loved the taste of him, and I rolled my hips against him just to show him how much.

A hand fisted in the knot of hair on top of my head and yanked backwards, breaking the kiss. Sebastian paid no mind and just continued kissing, licking, and sucking his way down my neck. My heartbeat had dropped straight to my cunt. I could feel it pulsating against his zipper.