Page 10 of Misted
“But I want Hawky!” Scar jumps from her seat. Layers of her voluminous hot pink skirt swish behind her as she attacks me in a koala hug. I stagger backwards then hold her back with a firm hand before loosening it. Considering how tiny she is, I’m constantly peevy about hurting her.
Being tiny and as pretty as a doll makes everyone — aside from Team Zero — lower their guards around her. Worst mistake of their lives. She’s death wrapped in a bright pink skirt.
I smile down at her and pat her head. Her deep amber eyes always reminded me of my sister. That’s all I remember from my life prior to The Pit. A baby sister. A drunk driving accident and that’s it.
Even though I don’t remember much of it, grief remained. I know I lost a sister — and probably my parents — during that accident. So when I met Scar in The Pit, I classified her as my sister’s replacement.
“It’s so boring in here.” Scar pouts like a kid. “Stay this time, hmm?”
“He will not.” Mist is back to ignoring my existence and glares at Scar instead.
“You don’t get to decide that.” Scar climbs down my body.
“I’m the madam here and all decisions run through me. He’s leaving.” Mist taps her red-manicured fingers on her arm. Red has always been her colour. Since she changed everything, why didn’t she change that, too?
Everyone remains silent, probably waiting for a move from me. Even the little creep Flame who’s usually sleeping his days away continues tilting his head to the side, itching for a disaster.
I tuck a hand in my back pocket, retrieve a cigarette and take my time lighting it. The first drag of nicotine wanes the chaos in my head. It doesn’t compare to Omega, but it puts me in the zone.
Still blowing smoke, I stalk towards Mist. She keeps her ground and her defiant gaze but the tapping halts. When I stop in front of her, a strong perfume hits me. It’s nothing like how she used to smell; soft and playful with lilac.
Why the fuck am I trying to find a trace of Hellion in this woman?
Mist juts her chin up, her rosy lips thinning in a line. They’re not red.
Pity.
“You don’t rule on your own and the decision isn’t up to you alone.” I erase her and face the others. “Let’s have a vote. If you want me to stay, raise your hand.”
Scar jumps up and down with both hands up like a kid at Christmas. “Hawky must stay!”
Mist cuts her a harsh glare that would’ve fazed a lesser woman than Scar.
Shadow stands and clasps my shoulder. “Welcome aboard, big man.”
“No.” Mist’s horrified gaze snaps to both Ghost and Flame. The latter is lying on the sofa, his body partially out of view, but he’s raising his hand that has a fire tattoo on it.
“Flame,” she hisses, about to say something else, but Ghost raises his hand, too.
Her mouth parts open, causing that teardrop in her upper lip to stand out.
“No hard feelings, Mist.” Ghost’s brows pull downwards as if he didn’t want to disappoint her. “We need him.”
“Traitors,” she mutters under her breath and clamps her lips shut as if stopping other choice words from coming out.
She swings towards me in her defensive posture. Arms folded, stance wide, shoulders squared. The malice couldn’t be any clearer.
She hates me.
Well, she wishes I only hated her, too. What I have planned for her is more than mere hate. It’s a destructive obsession and I’ll have her pay in more sickening ways than her imagination could take.
“I’ll make you leave.” She enunciates every word.
I blow a cloud of smoke in her face, and she blinks once. Words were never my thing so I don’t bother speaking. My mere stance and fucking scary look are enough to relay the message.
You can try.
Just fucking fight me and I’ll unleash what I’ve been bottling up all this time.