The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)(8)

“Why’d he hit her?” I ask to no one in particular.

“He needed a reason?” Pepper smarts.

“No, I just mean-“

“He accused her of getting into his drugs, demanded she pay for what she took. She swore she didn’t take anything, and he snapped,” Babs informs.

“There he is.” Vera points out the front windshield.

Molly pulls the back van door open and hops out. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear the rush of blood pooling in my ears as I follow. The adrenaline races through me like a virus, consuming my righteous upbringing, enforced from my mother. I smile at the intrusion of corruption, welcoming the feeling of being malicious. I look around and notice we are behind a big building. Thumping music plays from the inside, it’s some kind of club with green lights skirting the rooftop. The sky illuminates with leftover lightening and low rumbles of thunder, the storm reminding us of its presence. I follow the girls who are approaching a younger guy. He has on a green bandana pulled backwards with a dirty, white t-shirt and baggy jeans.

“You Darin?” Babs ask, pointing a bat at him.

“What the f*ck is it to you?” he mouths, tilting his chin up, his hand in the waist of his jeans

“This is for Silvia!” Babs yells as she swings the bat so fiercely locks of her hair fall loose. He falls to the ground, passing out.

“Dani, grab his gun,” Babs orders, pointing to the guy’s crotch with the bat. I hesitate as I stare at blood dripping from Darin’s head and down his face.

“Do it!” Vera yells, snapping me from the blood. I jump forward, reach into his jeans and fish out a polished gun. It’s heavy, and it feels powerful just sitting in my idle hands.

“Girls, grab his feet. Vera and I will get his arms. Dani, get the door to the van,” Babs commands, handing me the bat. I carry the bat and the gun; the rush of danger flowing through each of my hands makes my palms twitch.

Once we got the unconscious Darin in the back of the van, we drive off like a bat out of Hell. Babs is driving so fast I nearly fly across the back of the van on a turn. We drive for about twenty minutes before Babs pulls over and hops out.

I climb from the van, hear waves crashing, and smell salt. I look around and notice a rundown building but not much else. Babs snaps her fingers at me, so I hand her the bat as I palm the gun.

Babs grabs the still-unconscious Darin and drags him by his feet, his head hitting the ground with a loud thud. A low moan escapes his lips as he wakes.

“What the hell?” Darin moans, reaching into his pants. A sudden feeling of courage striking, I give his foot a firm kick.

“Looking for this?” I ask. The thought that a guy could lay such harm to a girl has me feeling animosity.

“You are dead bitch,” he says, looking at me with a promising grin. His smile is big, showing off bloody teeth where the blood from his head wound has dripped down, but his eyes are narrowed in warning. His threat has me pulsing with rage; I’m tired of threats.

“So, you like to beat girls?” Vera asks.

Darin laughs maliciously. “That bitch had it coming. She knew better than to get in my stash,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Dani, shut him up,” Babs says. I look at her, shocked. Does she want me to shoot him? Thinking on my toes, I grip the gun and hit him in the mouth hard. The sound of metal slamming into his jaw makes the hair on my neck raise. He yells in pain, grabbing his split lip the impact caused.

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked to fight?” I ask, a surge of bravery rising, making my hands tremble with nervous excitement.

He looks up at me from the ground. His shameless eyes hold me in place as he wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and starts to chuckle. It pisses me off. Violence creeps its way into my system, eager for me to show my true colors, not only to the girls, but to myself.

“Damn girl,” Cherry laughs. “I can see why they call you Firefly,” she says, looking at me with a smirk.

“Silvia knows if she wants drugs to come to me. Either way, you don’t hit girls. Especially ones associated with The Devil’s Dust,” Babs says, kicking him in the ribs hard.

“Dani, you want to prove yourself? Show him what happens when you mess with The Devil’s Dust,” Babs says, handing me the bat. I hand her the gun and grip the bat tightly, my fingers slipping from the sweat gathering in my palms. I look at the guy who is bleeding; his eyes dull from severe drug use. He reminds me of Ricky and Cassie who kidnapped me. Kidnapped me because of my mother who made Shadow’s mom a criminal informant. My blood boils at the connection; maybe I need therapy from the traumatic experience they put me through. I swing the bat with an emotional yell as a loud crack follows, splitting his kneecap. Darin rears up and grabs his knee, screaming in pain. I smile, feeling relief, screw therapy, this will do.

“That ‘a girl!” Molly laughs, kicking the guy in the gut.

I grip the bat harder and slam it down across his arm, the adrenaline feeling like a drug.

After a beat-down that guy will never forget, we all jump back in the van and head back to the club, leaving a bloody, unconscious thug in an empty parking lot, not knowing if he is dead or alive. On the drive back, the girls all start replaying everything that happened, but all I can feel is shame. Coming off the high of rage, I feel the leftover guilt eating at my conscious. What the hell did I just do?