The Skin Thief

Chapter 3

"Ahhh, I'm sure you'll be back," Reggie says and shakes me roughly. I roll my eyes and brush him off. He laughs some more and skips ahead, opening the large metal door.

"Good fucking riddance I say," Harry says.

"Fuck off, Harry," I snap, my fists clenching tightly. He's just jealous that his father made Mother, the youngest sister of four older brothers, the boss instead of him. He's too scared to take it out on Mother, so he attacks me instead. I calm myself down, resisting the urge to slam my fist into his face.

We walk through multiple dim corridors and down dingy rusty stairs before we finally enter a huge, empty warehouse. Standing by a pile of crates are Mother's other brothers.

"Fuckin' finally," Anthony shouts, his voice echoing around the hall.

"Oi oi, what's this then?" Reggie shouts, slamming his fist on the crate.

"It's the raw stuff, ready to be delivered to Bernard's lab," Benedict replies. His blue eyes fall on mine and he grins wonkily. Years of being punched in the face has left his nose and lips disfigured and his teeth are either missing or plated in gold.

"Row Row, good to see ya," he says.

"Yeah, you too Uncle Ben," I reply.

"You here to help us oversee the deal?" he asks.

"It would appear so," I reply.

"I feel safer already. What we gonna do when you're gone being some honourable soldier fighting the good fight, huh?" he asks.

I force out a laugh and try not to let the emotions I tried so hard to push down resurface. Even still, my stomach sinks and my lips dry as I try to smile.

"When ya leaving anyway?" Anthony asks.

"In the next two days," I say, my voice trembling slightly.

"Awe, you'll be back," Benedict says, slapping my upper arm roughly.

I hope so.

"Enough chit-chat," Mother snaps, "get this sorted." She clicks her fingers and her brothers immediately start opening the crates with crowbars.

All of them share the same bright ginger hair, fair complexion, and bright blue eyes as Mother. Though where she is beautiful, there is a rough gruffness to these men. Especially with the years of fighting and gang life that has taken a toll on their bodies, leaving behind scars and a strange hardness about them.

Harry stands back, pulling up the sleeves of his off-white shirt.

"I thought you were here to help," he says to me.

"Fuck off, Harry," my other uncles all say at the same time.

He snorts and shakes his head. "Skin Thief freak," he mutters.

Heat surges through me.

"What the fuck did you just say?" I ask. He looks up at me and crosses his arms.

"You heard me," he says lowly.

Red clouds my vision. In an instant, I am storming toward him, barely in control of my own body. He doesn't have time to bring up his arms in defence before my fist slams into his face. Harry lets out a shocked, agonised shout. There is a sickening crunch and blood explodes from his nose. He tumbles to the floor, clutching his face. My body feels electric with an adrenaline-fuelled rush.

"Fucking bitch!" he sniffles. I grit my teeth and slam my foot into his stomach three times, each time leaving him wheezing heavily until he coughs blood up onto the floor.