Page 34 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
It wasn’t just two spirits that were put into the icy ground that day. No, it was all three of us.
That’s when I knew it was time to embrace the darkness. Because if I was a part of it, then it couldn’t hurt me anymore. If I was wicked and awful, then I could pretend that I was untouchable, too.
I only cried once more after that, on the night I took those devils into my bed. And then … never again would a tear grace Gidget Kesselring’s cheeks.
Not in this lifetime.A few hours after my head hits the pillow, I hear a faint growling sound from beside me.
I was born into a world of horror and nightmares; I'm too smart to ignore a warning of any kind.
My body goes stiff and my eyes slide open. I listen carefully, but the only things I can hear are the low snarls of my dog, and the choral snoring of the other girls. In the distance, there’s the faintest burble of the river.
“What is it, boy?” I whisper, so low that I know only Fem can hear me. One of his perky ears swivels in my direction as he stands up, hackles raised. I’m a smart girl though; I know that one dog isn’t near enough to take care of whatever’s stalking me in the night.
I’ve seen the monsters that prey on the weak: they take no prisoners.
Sliding my right hand under the thin, shitty mattress, I pull out Cat’s Magnum. After that day in the kitchen with Queenie, he never asked for it back. He can barely stand to look at it. But I keep it with me because one day, in some fantastical future that I dream of but don’t dare let myself hope for, I’m going to blow the brains out of my sisters’ murderers with this thing. I’m going to look down at them on their knees with that same cool indifference in my eyes, and I’m going to send them straight to hell.
There’s the very faint creak of the screen opening, and then the sound of the door. Two sets of footsteps move across the floor, just before I hear the distinct metallic click of a hammer.
Fem howls in rage as the sound of a gunshot explodes through the cabin, making my ears ring, my heart thunder. The men in this room have just shot a girl in the bunk two rows down and below me, and they did it without taking a single breath to contemplate their actions.
The Grey Wolfe Mafia is back indeed.
I’m choking on fear and confusion and pain before I swallow hard and get myself together. I asked Carol Briggs to switch bunks with me because Anne Maxwell is allergic to dogs and she didn’t want Fem sleeping so close to her.
In a way, I’ve just killed Carol Briggs.
There’s blood on my hands, but I’ll be damned if there’s anymore.
Girls are screaming and crying, but I’m already throwing my feet over the edge and pointing the Magnum with both hands in the direction of the retreating men. They don’t need to take any extra blood; that’s not what they’re here for. No, they had one mission and that mission was to kill me. They think it’s done, and they’re hauling ass.
I whistle to keep Fem in check, because if I give him the slightest indication he’ll leap off the bed and go for the throats of these assholes. Instead, I squint in the shadows and the yellow beams of porchlight leaking through the window, and I fire at the first man’s face.
My shot makes contact because he doesn’t expect it, turning around to see who was whistling and ending up with a bullet in the brain. His body slumps to the floor like boneless jelly, but I’m already refocusing and firing on the other guy. Too bad these men are as ruthless and as skilled as the dickheads in my father’s club.
He’s already anticipating my shot.
The shadow-man rolls forward as I fire, just narrowly missing him. He’s fast, too, so fast that he stands up and grabs onto my ankle before I can pull the trigger again. I find myself being dragged off the top bunk and onto the floor, my skull cracking against the wood and leaving me with little white ghosts flitting around in my vision.
Thank fuck I brought my dog.
Feminist throws all sixty pounds of his muscular body at my attacker, knocking the man on his ass. There are teeth at his neck before he even manages to collect himself. Me, I’m used to working through pain, so I push up to my feet. My head is spinning, girls are screaming, and I can smell the sweet copper burn of blood, but I don’t let any of that distract me. I might’ve been raised by demons, but they taught me better than that.
