Chapter 31 Something Bad #2
If she’d just gone after him, confronted him, demanded answers…
maybe their story wouldn’t have ended in tragedy.
Maybe they could’ve had some sort of closure, or better yet, a happy ending.
But no. She let pride keep her from getting answers.
So instead of fighting for something real, everything fell apart. Because why?
A fresh wave of bitterness settles in my chest and I shake my head at myself. Why am I even thinking about this? It’s just some old story.
More tears crash into me again before I can stop them, trailing down my face.
The streetlights flicker and the rain falls harder. Thunder snarls overhead, while lightning rips through the sky, painting the pavement in harsh, eerie flashes.
I make it a little further down the street when I feel the same tingling feeling from earlier. Only now, it’s stronger, rippling across my skin like something's trying to pull at me. Goosebumps prick my arms, and my heartbeat thunders in my ears.
Okay, remain calm. Think.
My hands grow hot, and the warmth radiating from my palms feels like a fire I can’t put out. Desperate to distract myself, I rub my hands against the wet fabric of my dress, trying to take in my surroundings.
But the heat won't stop.
“Fight.”
I hear a whisper. It's barely there, but clear as fucking day. What the hell?
Ice floods my veins and I stop dead. I suck in a sharp breath as I whip my head around, scanning the rain-soaked street. I don’t see anything. Just the empty road stretching ahead and the shifting shadows under the streetlights. But everything looks normal.
My pulse hammers against my ribs as I glance over my other shoulder, the rain blurring my vision as thunder continues to crash overhead.
“Raven!”
The whisper slithers through the storm, feeling closer this time.
I hear a cough and ice spikes through my veins as something slams into the side of my face.
The impact is instant. I hear a sickening crack as my head jerks back, and pain splits through my skull, radiating across my cheekbone. Stars burst behind my eyes, my vision going momentarily dark. I barely manage to stay upright, as my boots slip against the slick pavement.
Really? Again?
The thought is quick but fueled by adrenaline as I force myself to focus, my breath feels ragged against the cold air. The storm rages around me as the wind whips through my soaked dress. But all I can see is him, a shadow in the rain.
His stance is cocky, like he already knows how this is going to end. What is going on?
I swipe the rain from my face, barely suppressing the white-hot anger unfurling in my chest. “What the fuck,” I spit, hoping my voice is sharp enough to cut through the downpour.
No answer. Just a slow tilt of his head, and an almost amused flick of his fingers, like I’m nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
I see the punch coming a second too late.
My body reacts on instinct, twisting to the side just as his fist cuts through the empty air where my face was a second ago.
The force of the swing makes him stagger slightly, and I backpedal fast. My heart slamming against my ribs, and I just pray that I make it out of this alive.
“Honestly? That was embarrassing.”
Am I taunting a man that can kick my ass and probably kill me. Yeah, but I need to buy some time to figure out how the fuck I’m going to get out of this.
He laughs, and the sound is a low, dark chuckle that sends a shiver rolling through my entire body. Lightning flashes overhead, catching the scar that slices across his cheek, making it look less like a wound and more like a cruel smile etched into his face.
Yikes, he looks scary.
He stands there like he doesn't have a care in the world. He looks lazy and relaxed, yet it's the staring that crawls under my skin.
I barely have time to process before he’s lunging. He’s fast for his size, and his next hit is aimed straight for my ribs. I duck, but my boots slip on the wet ground. My damn dress tangles around my legs, slowing me down, but I somehow manage to stay upright.
His fist clips my side, but it's enough to make me grit my teeth against the pain. Fuck that hurt. If my ribs weren’t already broken, they might be now.
I swing blindly, fueled by rage and desperation. My fist connects with his gut, and the shock reverberates through my arm, sending a sharp jolt up my shoulder.
He grunts, doubling over, which gives me just enough time to take a staggering step back, gasping for breath.
When his head snaps up, his eyes burn with fury.
“Bitch.” His voice is drenched in venom.
I scoff. “How original.”
I’m still gasping for air, but I don’t retreat.
My hands clench into fists at my sides, and I can feel the heat in my palms pulsing.
He’s still watching me, but he doesn't move. His chest rises and falls in steady breaths while his hands flinch like he’s wondering how much it’s going to take before I break.
The street lights flicker again as thunder cracks overhead, shaking the pavement beneath me.
I swear, for half a second, the shadows around him shift, curling at the edges.
It almost looks like someone is standing right behind him, and my stomach drops.
If there's more than one, I'm not sure if I can get out of this.
I swallow hard and try to ignore the way my pulse is hammering wildly against my ribs. Focus, Raven. Don’t let him see you panic. I keep my stance light, shifting on the balls of my feet. Or trying to.
Murderer? Probably not. But a lunatic? Oh, absolutely.
This time, when he moves, it’s more calculated. I pivot, expecting another wild swing, but he turns at the last second, dodging my elbow and slamming his fist into my ribs with enough force to steal my breath from my lungs. A sharp blistering pain explodes through my side, and I stumble.
He doesn't wait. Just yanks me back by the dress, and I go down hard, smacking into the mud with rain in my face like the world's worst wake-up call. My ribs flare as pain rips through my side and my vision spots. Shit.
I’m certain they’re broken now.
I need to move.
I roll just in time, his boot smashes into the ground where my ribs had been. The vibration rattles up through me, a brutal reminder of how close that was. I drag myself to my knees, and my whole body screams in protest.
He crouches down, tilting his head as he watches me. His lip curls, and when he speaks, his voice is a whisper. “We’ve been watching you.”
The words settle like a stone in my gut as I push up to my feet, ignoring the way my ribs desperately wish I wouldn't.
“That’s creepy as hell,” I mutter, my voice hoarse. “But hey, nice to have fans.”
His smirk deepens, and I don’t see his fist until it's too late.
There's a blinding crack as my head snaps sideways, and pain bursts through my jaw. My vision flashes and stars flicker at the edges of vision. My knees give out, and I hit the pavement.
Not good. This is not good.
I lift my head, the taste of blood sharp on my tongue, and glare up at him. He stands over me, waiting.
“Get up,” he taunts. “Let’s see if you really have it.”
Confusion lances through me, but I shove it aside and I force myself to get up. My legs tremble slightly, and every breath sends a jolt of pain through my ribs, but I will not give him the satisfaction of staying down.
“You’ve got the wrong girl,” I try to tell him. “Sorry to disappoint.”
His smirk is slow, and he's acting like he has all the time in the world to dismantle me piece by piece. Okay, he might be a murderer after all.
“You’re exactly who we’ve been looking for.”
A sick feeling rolls through my stomach, and it’s almost too much.
“Look,” I smile. “We don't have to do this. Save yourself the humiliation of getting your ass kicked by a girl in heels.”
His lip curls as his expression shifts into something darker. “You won’t get far,” he snarls, “we know who you are now. You’re reckless and we can smell you.”
“Ew,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “Did you just say you can smell me? Gross.”
The rain pounds harder, but the sound barely registers over the static filling my head. Did he say we?
My pulse spikes, and every instinct screams for me to run, to put as much distance as possible between me and whatever the hell this is. Instead, I do what I always do.
I dig my heels in, meeting his gaze with every ounce of defiance I can muster. “Seriously, wrong girl. So why don’t you just…” I wave a dismissive hand. “Go back home and turn on some Netflix, try a different series man. Maybe Supernatural? It’s really good. You’d love it.”
He doesn’t laugh, or even have any type of reaction at all, except for the slow drop of his eyes right back to my chest. “You talk too much.”
A blade appears in his hand before I even register the movement. Ice floods my veins and my body locks up.
Fuck.
It’s instinct that saves me. The second his arm jerks, I move. My feet stumble back, my arm flies up, enough to keep it from sinking into something vital. The burn is instant. It feels like fire licking across my forearm as I bite down on a scream.
My grandpa’s voice whispers through the chaos, a memory pressing against the pain.
“The first hit will tell you everything you need to know about your enemy. If they hesitate after they hurt you, they’re inexperienced. If they smile? They'll enjoy it. But if they don’t react at all? Then you’re already in trouble.”
I lift my chin, ignoring the blood dripping down my arm.
He’s not smiling. He’s waiting. Lovely.
The rain slashes against my skin, and my breath comes faster. Alright. I’m not going down without a fight though.
His eyes widen, not with satisfaction, but with pain? His body locks up and a raw, choked gasp rips from his throat, and then he screams.