In real life, unsurprisingly, it’s a little different.
It was over quickly with little to no drama. Or action. I guessed it depended on the situation. It lasted twenty seconds. Less.
Shit, Carlos was still holding his glass when I shot him.
My shaking hand dropped the gun so it landed next to his body. The one missing half its head.
I shot him.
The sound still rang in my ears.
“Shit,” Skid whistled as he came to stand beside me.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
He stared at the slightly headless body I’d created.
“You ever shot anyone before?”
“Nope,” I said, making a soft popping sound on the p.
“Me neither.” His voice didn’t shake or anything, but there was an edge to it. The same edge I had to mine.
“I have killed someone before,” I continued casually.
“Oh yeah?”
I nodded. “But he deserved it.”
“So did he.” He nodded to the body.
“Yeah. He did.”
A heavy silence cloaked the room, not just the silence of death but of being the dealer of that death.
It didn’t feel nice. Or good. But I felt less… dirty. Cleansed, somehow. Which was ironic, considering murder wasn’t cleansing. It was a sin. And against the law. Though murder was concerning humans. I put down an animal. A feral one at that.
“Scott,” he said, the word harsh on the soft silence.
I turned my head to regard his profile.
He met my eyes. “That’s my name,” he clarified. “I figure it’s time you knew it, since we, you know, just killed people together.”
“Scott,” I repeated. “Are you fucking kidding me? I got it the first time. You nutcase, why didn’t you tell me?
He shrugged. “Was kind of funny. Hearing you come up with stupid names.” He paused. “And then after what they did.” He nodded to the body. “It seemed to distract you, kind of bring that part of you back, remind you of yourself. Couldn’t exactly take that away.”
Wow.
His name was Scott and he was awesome.
I reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it. He squeezed back.
And… nothing. Nothing apart from his warm, slightly clammy grip.
No dirt. No ice. Just peace.
Then the doors burst open and the peace was shattered.
“Becky!” Gabriel growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Both of us whirled around and watched Gabriel, Gage, and Asher survey the room.
Only Gage smiled. Obviously.
Asher’s eyes went to the bodies, then me. “Oh fuck,” he muttered.
Gabriel’s eyes did the same thing, though that was while he stormed over to us. His eyes were so feral, his body so tight, that Scott stepped in front of me as if to protect me.
He crumpled to the ground about two-point-five seconds later when Gabriel put his fist through his face.
I gaped at Scott’s unconscious body. “That was so not cool,” I shouted at him.
He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. Roughly. Enough so my teeth chattered together. “Are you fucking insane?” he roared.
I waited for the shaking to stop. I wasn’t scared, though his fury was something to behold. I knew he wouldn’t go further than that. And he didn’t, stopping almost as soon as he started.
“I’m not insane,” I answered slowly. My gaze flickered to Gage, then back to him. “Especially not when compared to current company.”
Gabriel gritted his teeth. “You think this is a fuckin’ joke?”
Ironic that the man who used to laugh about everything, failed to find the humor in this situation. Granted, there wasn’t much.
I didn’t lower my gaze. “No, I don’t think it’s a fuckin’ joke. I think this is life. Which is really the biggest joke of all, but I’m not in the mood to talk philosophy.” I sucked in a breath. “I’m in the mood for revenge, and a taco. But the former was better.”
Gabriel gaped at me. “And you thought comin’ here, without fuckin’ telling me, or anyone else, not letting us take care of it, was a suitable form of fuckin’ revenge?” His grip tightened on my shoulders.
I jutted my chin up, not caring about the audience of Gage, who was kicking at a body with his boot, or Asher, who was talking on his phone, using the word ‘cleanup.’ “I’m not going to sit here like a little lady while the ‘men’ do the ‘man’s work’ of exacting revenge. I’m not entrusting my revenge in someone else’s hands, no matter how muscular the arms attached to them are.” I regarded him evenly. “It happened to me. They took everything from me. Whatever shreds of my soul I had left, they tattered. I’m not letting someone else take care of the punishment for that theft. I’m going to be doing that myself. I’m going to make sure I take everything from them too, and I’m going to make sure I leave nothing.” I looked around. “Maybe the way you’re used to doing things is letting the man take the gun and do the shooting. I’ll tell you now, that’s not what’s going to happen here. I may have a kick-ass manicure, but that doesn’t mean I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, to get them bloody. To squeeze some triggers.”