I pressed the barrel harder into her head, more than ready to squeeze the trigger and blow her brains all over the wall. Teach all of these bitches not to laugh at me ever again.
“Beast, you don’t want to do this.” Casa’s voice cut through the darkness, a gentle warning. “Come on, brother. Let’s go get your dick sucked and give you a bump of snow and all will be right in the motherfuckin’ world again, brother.”
Lola was full-on sobbing, black makeup smeared down her face. Pretty sure I smelled piss on her now too.
“Come on, brother,” Casa said from next to me. “She’s just a sweetbutt, you don’t wanna do this.”
But I did.
I wanted to shoot her.
No…I wanted to shoot someone, anyone.
Casa put a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, brother.”
I slowly pulled my gun away from her head, noting the circle from the barrel imprinted on her skin, and she sagged in relief but stayed frozen to the spot, her hands raised at her chest like she could stop the bullet from penetrating her.
Casa reached over and took the gun from my hand, and Lola used the moment to make a run for the door, heading out before anyone could stop her. Pretty sure she wouldn’t be back around for a while, if she knew what was good for her.
“Easy, brother,” he soothed. “Chill out, okay?”
I turned back to the room, noting the stares and the judgment from them all. They all thought I’d lost it, that I was done. And maybe they were right. I might have been back at the clubhouse and out of that godforsaken hospital. I might have been alive after fighting off death, but I’d never left that barn alive.
In my head, I was still trapped inside, and the horses were still screaming at me and I was still dying.
I was still burning.
I was still bleeding and broken.
Cut up, sliced and diced…and the cameras were still rolling.
Filming every inch of my misery. My death. Echo’s death.
Clutching my hands to my head, I groaned. My breaths were coming out ragged like I was breathing poison, and every breath was setting my insides on fire. I was inhaling the smoke and the flames, the black stench of death curling inside me like a pit of vipers in my stomach, waiting to strike.
I didn’t know I was dropping to my knees until they hit the hard ground with a heavy slam that ricocheted through my body. Didn’t know I was calling out until my throat burned from the exertion. Didn’t know I was passing out until the world went black and took me with it.
Chapter Four
~ Belle ~
The thumping on my trailer door woke me from my sleep. It took a moment for me to grasp what was happening as I lay on my back and stared up at the dark ceiling, the perspiration hot on my face and neck. The trailer was like an oven and I was boiling alive inside, nicely marinated by tequila. The thumping came again and I rubbed at my eyes and sat up, grabbing the clock from my bedside cabinet to read the time.
“Three a.m.?” I groaned. Who the hell could that be at three a.m.?
After leaving Jenna’s, I’d gone and gotten a bottle of tequila before coming back home and finishing most of it off. Now I felt sick to my stomach, still slightly drunk, and my mouth tasted like feet. I vaguely remembered demolishing a huge bag of Cheetos by myself too and my stomach roiled.
That would explain the feet taste.
The thumping came again, so loud the whole trailer shook, and I slid out of bed and stumbled out of my room and into the kitchen diner before heading toward the door. I hoped it wasn’t Jenna because the place was a mess and no doubt she’d call me out for living like such a pig. But then why would Jenna turn up here at three a.m.? She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t… She wanted nothing more to do with me. Sadness gripped me and I swayed on my feet, wishing I could drink the last of the tequila and fall back to sleep, but the last remnants of sleep slunk away as I reached the door and hesitated. Who would be thumping on my door at three a.m.? The sound came again, the knocking so hard that the door rattled, and I whimpered as I realized that this might be it.
This might be the people sent to kill me.
Do killers knock?
Was this it now?
Was I about to die?
