My heart thudded. I kept my face as neutral as I could manage, but my thoughts were racing.
What didn’t I know?
What the hell is this veil?
Why the fuck were her eyes glowing?
And what have you gotten yourself involved in Misfit?
For one awful moment, the room felt dangerous again. Not because of the broken glass or the bruised man groaning on the floor, but because I could feel the presence of a life I wasn’t supposed to see, and I was standing right in it.
I was still trying to figure out if what I’d just seen really happened; it wouldn’t have been the first time my mind played taunting tricks on me.
Manic's eyes lingered on Misfit for a while longer, as if they were having a silent conversation, when one of the men arrived, holding two Manila envelopes and accompanied by a relaxed smile.
“This one is yours, every penny plus a little extra for the inconvenience.” Holding it between two fingers towards Manic, she snatched it from his hand, tearing open her envelope, accessing the cash like it was a party favour.
“Pleasure as always, Mack. Until next time.”
She gave a final flick of her eyes between Misfit and me before heading for the door, glancing back at her.
“Give me a call so we can talk work,” followed by a quick wink, allowing the heavy door to slam behind her. The tension evaporated instantly, but my chest still felt tight. My skin was hot with the adrenaline that had nowhere to go now.
Misfit leaned back against the wall, casual again, or at least trying to be. Cigarette lit, smoke curling around her. Meanwhile, I was still standing stiff, my mind racing through all the things I wasn’t supposed to understand.
I was the outsider. The observer who wasn’t supposed to be here, and it was painfully obvious. I turned to Misfit, but she didn’t look at me. I could feel the weight of her awareness, as if she knew I was staring; knew I was unravelling with curiosityand didn’t want to deal with it yet. And honestly? I wasn’t sure I could even form the questions I wanted to ask.
Mack’s voice cut through my spiralling thoughts like a blade. He was laughing as Jay stumbled over, looking like a man halfway through a murder scene. His throat was blotched with bruises, and the way he coughed sounded like something dying.
And Mack? He just kept grinning.
“Well, you deserved everything you got. Fancy gambling away the money before we’d even settled on a buyer, you dumb fuck! Lucky, I did find someone, isn’t it? 'Cause I reckon you’d be mince if I didn’t," he said, like this was all hilarious. Jay spat blood to the floor,
“She wasn’t supposed to be coming to collect for another few days! And why would you let her nearly fucking kill me, knowing full well you’d been paid?”
Mack’s laughter settled slightly, “'Cause it’s funny.”
Jay whispered from behind him, still rubbing his throat, “Prick.”
Then, just like that, Mack turned to Misfit, “Anyway, now that everything’s cleared up, here.” He casually handed the other envelope to her, and she took it, shoving it into her back pocket.
“Thanks.”
His eyes fell on me, as if he now remembered I was a person. “Sorry about all that. I’m Mack, and this idiot is Jay.” He extended a hand toward me. I stared at it for a second too long. But eventually I reached out, more from reflex than intent. My grip was steady, but my thoughts were far from it.
“So, you got a name, kid?” he asked, after a pause. His eyes flicked between me and Misfit. I couldn’t get my mouth to work; it was like my brain was buffering. The ring of death constantly circling over my ability to speak.
I didn’t belong here. My dealings were crack heads and perverts. Not this. It wasn’t just back-alley deals or shady people. This was something bigger than me.
Misfit stepped in before I could embarrass myself further. “It’s Screech.”
He gave a brief nod followed by an awkward grin before his sights returned back to Misfit.
“So, Misfit, how are things with you and Omen?”
My head snapped in her direction, brows furrowed at the mention of a name I hadn’t heard before. The shift in her expression alerted something in me; her eyes widened the instant Mack mentioned the name. Who the fuck was Omen?
The urgency of her retort told me it was yet another part of her life she didn’t want me to know about.
