As I raced down the street, my head continued to swim, but it was manageable. I mean, I still had the indistinct urge to vomit, but I shoved it down as I took a turn onto Carol Lane.
'Don't you just love to feel like you want to vomit?'
'...'
'Yeah, I didn't think so.'
"Son of a bitch." I hissed under my breath as my vision swirled uncomfortably while I increased my speed so that I could get this whole ordeal over with.
As I took another left turn, I heard Scar's voice ask over the intercom system in my ear, "Grace? You okay?"
Everyone insisted that, for my safety, there should be a direct line of contact between them and myself and blah, blah, blah.
(Even though the entire area would be surrounded by police cruisers.)
'No, Scar, I'm not alright. I'm tempted to pull over just so that I can empty my guts out on the side of the street.'
I gritted my teeth as I replied, "Yeah. That drink from the dance just fucked me up badly."
"You sure you're okay to do this? I don't want you dying at the wheel before we take this fucker down." Scar continued to mutter like the mother hen she is and I rolled my eyes at her dramatics, but not mad at her in the slightest.
"Yes, mum." I mocked as I shifted lanes smoothly. "I'm fine."
And let me tell you, people on the other side of the continent could feel her eye roll.
"Don't get smart with me, young lady. Or I'll ground you." She responded, her tone just as mocking as mine, causing a smile to appear on my face.
Thank God I had Scar in my ear. It felt nice to know I wasn't alone. But that didn't help my nerves at all. I swear, the only time I stopped gripping the steering wheel was when I pulled into the dirt track.
'Fuck. I'm going to have to pretend to drive this thing.'
That meant I was going to have to do donuts.
...
"Shit." I groaned quietly, not wanting Scar to hear me.
I took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm myself down.
'Focus, dumbass. This is for mum.'
Oddly enough, it only just hit me in the moment.
I was finally going to get the bastard that ruined my life, the son of a bitch that killed my mum, the psycho that took my family from me.
The list of his offenses goes on and on endlessly.
And while I was terrified out of my fucking mind, I also knew that I had no choice. I didn't come this far to just give up and run home with my tail in between my knees.
I swallowed thickly as my heart continued to race uncomfortably in my chest.
'Okay then. Let's get this bastard and show him just who has more to lose. A man who just regained his freedom or a girl who doesn't give two shits whether she dies or not?'
And so, with a newfound sense of hope and strength, I revved the engine once more as a determined smirk took over my face.
"You good, Grace? You went silent for a moment." Scar muttered curiously over the line and my smirk widened.
"Yeah." I replied confidently as I set my head straight ahead of me. "I think it's time to end this."
"That's my girl." Scar declared proudly and I let out a laugh as I finally got onto the street with the dirt track. As I pulled into the planned meeting area which was a secluded place about five minutes outside of town, I went over the plan in my head.
'Okay, so I just have to wait this out while Theo's men are in position until Bert rears his ugly mug. Easy.'
And for about fifteen minutes, I killed time by doing random test drive actions like doing donuts, testing the car's limits, and, just to make sure, the brakes.
For about fifteen minutes, everything was fine.
I mean, I felt like shite since my head felt like it was stuck in a vice. But other than that, I was okay-ish.
For about fifteen minutes, I had the nerve to think that Bertinelli wasn't going to actually come after me.
For fifteen minutes, I was a bellend and dilly-dallied like an overly self-assured idiot.
Until the time mark hit sixteen minutes. Then, I heard the sound of a car engine.
No. Not a car.
Multiple cars.
'Son of a-'
Suddenly, I heard Scar's voice in my ears, "Grace. You've got company." Her tone was sharp as she tried to notify me of the situation.
I checked my rearview mirror to see about five or so cars; all of them were high-end and expensive sports cars that I knew would be pretty slick on the road.
And guess who I saw driving right beside the one leading the pack.
The fucking Burnt Feet fuckers that tried to kill me at the race a couple of days ago.
'Son of a fucking buiscit.'
With gritted teeth, I jerked the steering wheel to do a u-ee, which caused me to feel even worse, and then shifted the car until I was facing the other drivers head-on.
When my vision cleared, I noticed I was correct. There were five cars about half a football field away from me, all of which were filled with scary-looking men inside.
And do you know who was in the one in the center of them all?
Take a good fucking guess.
...
You got your answer?
Did you say Bertinelli?
Good job! You aren't a total idiot and are instead, a normal functioning human. Becuase guess what! You're right!
Bertin-fucking-elli.
In a fucking three-piece suit with an onxy black metal cane like some fucking celebrity.
'If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was Satan's personal lapdog.'
His greying hair was pulled into a manbun and his grey beard did nothing to make him look appealing. Due to his time in prison, he was ripped beyond fairness and actually looked semi in shape.
His blue eyes, however, were starting to yellow and the same for his teeth.
He looked the same as he had years ago and I gritted my teeth in anger at seeing him look unfazed by the whole situation, tempted to get out of the car, walk over there, and punch him in his smirking, dickhead face.
'I'm going to put this bastard six feet under even if it kills me.'
I clenched my jaw as I saw him get out the passenger's side of his car, bracing myself for the impending, inevitable fight.
"Hello, baby Stanton." He greeted calmly. A fake innocent look then took over his face. "Or should I say Harrison? I can never keep up with your aliases." He continued innocently and then shrugged haphazardly.
'This son of a fucking bi-'
My lips tugged in a sardonic grin as I rolled down my window and stretched my body so my head and arm were out of the car.
"Wow. You've gotten so lazy that instead of driving yourself like a grown-arse man, you get your lackeys to do it for you." I shouted back, clenching my fists in a useless effort to stop my heart from racing.
'I will avenge my mother. Right here. Right fucking now.'
Bertinelli chuckled humorously, not affected by my insult.
"As ladylike as ever, I see." He stated, a sinister grin on my face that made my entire body freeze in terror.
The grin gave me the shivers as memories from the worst day of my life began to force themselves back into my mind. I couldn't escape them.
Worse enough, he gave my mum that grin when he killed her.
"Grace. Relax. I can feel your heart racing from here." Scar murmured and I let out a deep breath as I tried not to have a heart attack right there. "You got this."
Scar's words calmed me somewhat, but they didn't do much.
I let out one more deep breath in response. "How's Satan doing?" I called out at Bertinelli, giving him a sickly-sweet grin. "Sorry I haven't seen him in a while. I've been busy." I continued mockingly, my anger almost leaking into my tone.
'I want to tear him apart limb by limb.'
Bertinelli laughed once more. "Yes, you have been busy. With your new friends." My face went hard as I realized where he was going with this. "What were their names? Johnathan, Benjamin, and Grayson?" He asked innocently, causing me to grit my teeth, and then he shrugged nonchalantly.
"It's a shame you won't get to be in their lives for much longer." He declared with a fake pout on his face.
My fist clenched.
"Ditto." I gritted out angrily.
"I already killed your mother, Cam." As the words left my enemy's mouth like a mocking sneer, I growled under my breath at the mention of my old name. Memories started to boil up that I had been wanting to squash deep into my heart.
Bad memories.
"As you can guess, I'm here to finish the job." He continued with that ever-present sinister smirk on his face.
And in that moment, a sudden burst of confidence just appeared within me. Or blatant stupidity.
'I'll take either one.' I silently admitted to myself.
I rolled my eyes at his so-called 'threat', not really intimidated in the least.
"Yeah, like that went so well the first time. The first time, you fucked up enough to get caught by the police." I pointed out. "The second time, your grown-ass men got their asses handed to them by two teenagers."
"Your odds aren't looking too good here, Berti." I finished with a snort.
Bertinelli simply threw me a smug grin, my words having very little effect on him. "My dear, you don't know just how wrong you are."
I narrowed my eyes at the insinuation.
"How do you figure?" I questioned, trying to keep my cool, but failing miserably.
"You honestly think you're in control." Bertinelli threw his head back and laughed. "That's cute." He continued with a menacingly sick grin on his lean face. "But very false."
I narrowed my eyes at him, biting my cheek to the point of drawing blood as I stopped myself from killing him right then and there.
'This little-'
It was then that I realized I couldn't taste the blood and my head was starting to spin worse which caused a wince to take over my face and I faltered as I leaned out the car window.
'And here I thought it was getting better.'
Apparently, my actions were noticeable since Bertinelli then called out, "I see you are starting to feel the effects of the drug I gave you."
'...'
'Wut?'
My eyes widened in pure shock, thought deep down, I knew he had done it.
"W-what?" I stuttered, stunned that he actually admitted it.
"Drug?" Scar echoed in my ear and I nodded absentmindedly at her question, then faced Bertinelli with a dark glare.
"What did you do?" I growled out loudly so that good ole Berti could hear my radiating anger.
The devil himself laughed gleefully, sounding mental. "Oh, I just slipped a little something into your drink at that puny dance of yours." He declared innocently, twirling his cane lazily.
"That was you?" I hissed, beyond angry.
Bertinelli simply nodded, his expression never changing as the Brute fuckers slowly and hesitantly got out of their cars.
"What. Was. It?" I gritted out lowly as I clenched my fists so hard that I was sure would leave nail marks.
"Oh, you don't need to know." He replied smugly as he fixed his blazar collar nonchalantly, causing me to glare even harder at the demon in front of me.
"You son of a bitch." I muttered as I felt the world spin. I wrenched my eyes shut as I tried to regain my focus on reality. I failed miserably though, as you can imagine.
'Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.'
"You motherfu-" I began, but couldn't finish as the urge to vomit resurfaced and I felt my body crumple.
"You don't look so hot, Cammie." I barely heard Bertinelli's voice call out smugly. "I think you should get some rest." He continued, but it sounded like a blur.
"Grace!" Scar shouted so loud, my eyes reopened at the volume.
'Crikey, mate.'
"Focus, girl! You need to focus." She continued.
I felt so unbelievably sluggish and slow, but I fought the drug off as I put my gaze back on Bertinelli.
"Oh!" He exclaimed suddenly, his face lighting up. "Thank you for the tip, by the way, Captain. It was greatly appreciated."
My face contorted in confusion.
'C-captain...?'
"It was no trouble at all, boss."