‘Light them up, Luna.’
Chapter forty-three
Liam
Fuck I feel like shit.
Bones aching, I whimper like a pussy as I adjust the most uncomfortable position in the world to fall asleep in. Seriously, how much did I drink last night to have to pass out sleeping upright in a chair?
‘Arghh,’ I groan as a blinding pain stabs my brain.
Something hard whips across my face and that snaps me awake in an instant.
‘The fuckk.’ I roar, ready to go toe-to-toe with whichever one of the lads just smacked me.
From the force of it, there is no way it was someone’s fist, which I think makes it worse, since getting bitch slapped byone of the lads is more humiliating than anything. A punch I can take, I welcome it actually, but a slap is just unnecessarily painful and I never know how to respond.
Like I don’t want to start slapping back because then it would be a never ending cycle of you slap me so I slap you back then—
Another slap sears across my cheek. Ouch, that one fucking hurt. A metallic tang burst across my tongue, and I'm dealt yet another bitch slap to the face.
Ready to put my recent thoughts about the matter aside, I prepare myself, firing up the mightiest slap of my life, but there's one problem.
I’m tied up.
So not only is someone using me as their slapping practice but I’m also being held against my will for this training exercise.
‘Shut up,’ a feminine voice says sounding further away than I imagine she actually is.
Then it all comes back to me. The subway tunnels, Malcom and the equipment and most importantly the sly sister of his that took me by surprise.
I suppose they always say, Don’t judge a book by its cover. We knew she was a genius, but we didn’t put her down to be the evil genius of this organisation. More so the scared one that did everything her brother demanded. So what is this? Is she the evil genius behind all of it and we’ve had Malcolm wrong this entire time?
I blink my eyes open, preparing myself for some shape-shifting goblin because that is the only reasonable explanation I can think of for what has happened. The sister must be something much more than I assumed because how would… just what?
Why the fuck would someone who is capable of taking down a Skull not take down her weasel of a brother?
Another slap rings in my ears and is accompanied by the numbness of my cheek.
‘You gunna stop doing that?’ I mumble.
‘No. I don’t think I will.’
Right nice. Just bloody brilliant that is, isn’t it.
I’ll have to put that on my list of achievements in the apocalypse — getting bitch slapped more times than I can count. Oh, how my mother would be so proud.
‘What is fucking going on?’ I ask myself.
But of course she hears, her eyes narrowing on me. Bitch must have shifted into a bat or something.
‘You’re not going to hurt anyone else.’ She screeches, sounding a little further on the batshit crazy side than my princess and her group. ‘I’m sick of it all. I’m fucking sick of it!’
Okay, okay. I think she’s having her moment.
‘All you do is take take take. And its fucking draining you know.’
I consider humming in agreement, but my sixth sense doesn’t think that will help. Whenever Isla has been on one of her overstimulated rants, it never seemed to work in my favour, so I opt for the silent listening approach. Poor lass looks like she needs to get a bucket load off of her chest.
