I wanna dedicate this chapter to @imduckedup because her comments on this story and on Law of Attraction just melted my heart this weekend 🥰🥺 So thank you for spamming my notifs and brightening my days 😘 I know you've not reached this chapter, so don't read!!!
'Heard you're speaking like we made a truce
Haven't stolen your woman yet so show some gratitude
I found a real one
My life's a wicked view'
*BLADE'S POV*
BANG!
That was the deadliest sound I'd ever heard, and I'd heard many gunshots in my life. Yet it was the first time that my heart stopped to take in the deadly silence following, and everything flashed before my eyes; one month flashed until that moment I'd seen the girl with a gun in her hand at the shooting range.
It was so strong that I even forgot why I'd tried to kill the guy on the other side of the hallway, and for a second, we shared the same dread in our wide eyes before we both ran where the bang had come from, shoving each other in our race.
The last time I'd seen Dorothy, she'd had a gun in her hand, and as long as she had it, she should have been safe. Knowing how she shot, no one would have the chance to pull the trigger before she did.
Though it didn't slow my strides, nor the hammering of my heart, and I didn't breathe until I saw these flaming curls, my hands gripping the doorframe for support as my feet were skidding on the floor and my eyes took in her petite silhouette standing with the gun still in her hand.
"Baby, you okay?"
The only answer I got was another heart-stopping sound: faraway sirens, and while the adrenaline was pumping faster and faster in my veins, I did my best to approach her slowly, my gaze pinned on her knuckles turning white around the gun handle.
We didn't need another gunshot if the fuzz was in the area. So in a swift motion, I took the gun from her hand and reached for the other weapon before she could hurt herself, if she was gripping my knife as tightly. But her ex had it already.
"Did you...?" he asked the obvious, when it was echoing in the deafening silence and already filling the air with an unmistakable thickness: Death.
Okay, he probably wasn't used to that fella. That was why his large eyes kept traveling between Dorothy and wherever the aim of her gun had been pointed on the other side of the courtyard, while I didn't even throw the body a glance.
My gaze was only on Dorothy, running from her too-pale cheeks to her white shoes, passing by her chest, stomach, wrists, and every women's weak point in reflex, to make sure Death hadn't reached her in any way. But my fingers didn't follow like I would have usually done as my attention stopped on the dried drop of blood near her thumping jugular.
Death had almost touched her; I'd almost killed her. That bastard had been right, and in this whole scene, it was the tiny red stain that knocked my breath out.
– No, I'd talked too soon. There was worse when I met her eyes, and the striking green appeared empty, lacking all these infinite sparkles changing with her mood. They were numb and faraway, like she was, and it left me choking on whatever was left in my chest.
"I've killed him." Even her voice sounded like a faraway echo, almost covered by Spencer's steps as he rushed to the other side to check the body or prove her wrong.
Didn't he know how she shot? Even in the distance and darkness, she never missed a target.
"Oh no... it's..."
"Do you ever finish a sentence?" I groaned, throwing my first glance around, mainly to shoot that bastard daggers.
I didn't fucking care whoever she'd killed. For all I knew, she could have killed the president; I would still cover her at all cost, and from the bloodstain spreading on a white shirt, maybe I wasn't far from the truth. Who even wore this at the Drillin'?
"Douglas Thornton," she whispered his name like a curse, making me snap my head back to her.
Maybe she wasn't as lost as I'd thought. She'd aimed carefully, knowing who it was. The question was: why?
But I quickly got my answer when her ex announced, "The girl looks fine. She must have passed out with the shock."
It was his first real sentence, surely because he was finding his bearings, feeling a pulse under his fingers as he checked the girl's bruising neck. Just this glimpse along with the fresh red mark on her cheek made it pretty clear what had been happening, and when I caught sight of the dead man's face, there was no doubt left.
Of course, my Shooting star wouldn't have taken an innocent life, and my lungs were already filling with breath and pride again as I turned back to her.
Though my praises were cut off by a loudspeaker echo.
"Police, nobody move!"
It must have been coming from the main room, but we didn't have much time, and as I rushed to close the door, my instincts were right. Footsteps and dog barkings were already echoing from one of the many hallways.
"Fuck, you called the pigs?!"
"Me?! When do you think I could have? You were with me, and why would I when I'm the one who brought the gun?"
Great! He'd found back his tongue, and I lashed out at the door handle to not make him swallow it.
"It could be anyone at the bar."
"We don't call the pigs here," I snapped back at him.
The door had no lock, and I was left to pull at the roots of my hair with my right hand to not move the fingers of my other one.
It would have taken just a little push of the trigger... I wouldn't even have needed the gun. With the mix of anger, frustration, and adrenaline brewing in my veins, I was one ingredient away from wringing his neck, my hands already twisting and tingling in my hair.
But killing him wouldn't solve anything. It wasn't the time. Killing him wouldn't solve anything; I repeated myself.
I wasn't alone in this. Dorothy was here, and she was my priority. Seeing the state of shock she was in, and Captain Obvious over here, it all depended on me.
"Whoever called, if the police find us here, we're screwed."
"They won't. We just need to get away quickly." As if to add dramatic effect to my words or just make our hearts tick the seconds faster, steps and shouts echoed louder from all around, and both Dorothy and Spencer jerked their heads towards every corner.
It was the thing about this bar – or labyrinth, as Dorothy called it – it was made of a maze of rooms, hallways, and corners that were forming the perfect base for the gang, confusing all the outsiders. But even if I knew every corner, stepping in it with pigs plaguing and running around was toss-up. Alone, I would have already rushed there, but seeing Dorothy's aghast eyes, I was paralyzed, searching for an impossible safe option.
"There's no other door? Or maybe we can reach the windows on the first–"
"That's it! The secret passage!"
Maybe it was a good thing I hadn't killed him. He could be useful.
"Give me my knife." I snatched it away from him before he could protest, pushing the gun in his hands, which became even shakier.
And it was that guy who wanted to kill me? I would have laughed if I'd had the time.
"See that trash container?" I nodded with my chin, while my hands were already making quick work with the knife and anything I could find on the ground: empty bottles, crates, even gums... There was everything needed.
"The wall is uneven near, the third bump is a secret button opening a passage behind the container. Push it, and get Dorothy there. I'll block the door with what I have to slow them down."
"But I have to push the container?"
"Yes, do it now!" I barked as I couldn't cut the pieces of crates to make a wedge, glue it together with gum and shards of glass to make it more solid, and also push him. "Or is it too heavy for you?!"
"It has no wheels. It'll make too much noise and attract the cops faster."
"30 seconds or two minutes, they'll come anyway, and it's our only way out." I didn't know if I convinced him or if it was the doors slamming in the hallways closer and closer, but he ran there, and when the loud grinding of metal echoed, the door was secured with my makeshift wedges.
"Police! Open the door!"
Fuck, that was a close one, and I didn't even get to admire my work or breathe, my eyes scanning the space to be sure we didn't leave any proof.
"And the girl?" Dorothy tugged at Spencer's hand, stopping before the secret door.
Even in shock, she had her evil genius brain working, and all the qualities to be a criminal, except she had too much heart...
"She's passed out, and she probably didn't see you in the dark."
The first clear spark of emotion reached her eyes, and it was under a displeased frown that clutched at my lungs.
"She's fine." I sighed, diving my gaze into her while all my senses were on the shaking door behind me.
"She's right. We can't let the poor girl take the blame."
That idiot was really getting on my last overstrung nerves.
"Okay, fine, I'll put that bastard back in his original position with his hand in her pants, so they'll see what was happening," I replied, throwing my hands up as I couldn't raise my voice with the fuzz so close. "You, hurry the fuck up inside."
I quickly pushed the corpse back in place with no care as I was too busy watching the growing slit of the door and my wedges barely holding it, and I may have added a few unnecessary kicks near his open pants. I couldn't help it, knowing what he'd had in mind with that girl was probably the same thing he'd had in his lech gaze on Dorothy the other day.
If I could have killed him a second time, I would have made it much more torturous than a gunshot. Dorothy was too good. But I doubted the cops now throwing themselves at the door would agree.
So I didn't waste more time, sliding through the secret passage and closing it behind me just when I heard the door giving in.
It was the last sound I took in as the tunnel was soundproof, and dark, leaving me with only the bangs of my heart to imagine what was happening on the other side, and a hushed voice that amplified the thuds more than any possible scenario.
"I arrived and he... he was trying to... f-force himself on her, and..."
I quickly pulled out my lighter to not leave her in the dark where all the demons and haunting memories could get to her. But when the small flame lit up, someone had already reached.
"I know, my princess. It's alright, we'll be alright." That bastard had already put his greedy hands on her, and I hated that they were hiding the infinite little freckles on her cheeks as he cupped her face.
But mostly, I hated that she was relaxing under his touch and words.
"Let's not rot here and wait for them to find us" There were little chances for that to happen because the passage had been made for this kind of escape during the Civil War, and it'd been used a few times already for the gang. There was no way the pigs would find it, even less if they were busy with the dead body. They would look for the windows upstairs first.
But the farther Dorothy was from them, the better, and I quickly led the way, grabbing her hand.
"Be careful, there's some stairs to walk down."
Once more, it all depended on me and the tiny flame of my lighter, and clearly, someone didn't like it...
"Do you know where it leads?" Spencer asked, from way too close behind.
"Somewhere in the wood." I didn't bother explaining more, and thankfully, he didn't ask, even if I could almost hear his questions in the silence, all our questions.
In the narrow space, everything was heightened: the cracks of our footsteps on a floor we couldn't see, our uneven breaths, and the smallest hair arising on our bodies with the tensions in the air.
The walk was never-ending, and the only thing keeping me going was the flickering flame in front of me and the soft sparks in my back. Dorothy was still holding my hand, tracing absent-mindedly the tattoos on the back, and I didn't know if it helped her, but she was definitely soothing my tensions. To think she'd asked what their meaning was; she was the one giving them a real meaning, and the inks seemed to be here only for her to trace.
With each branch she followed, my thoughts cleared, and there was a lot to process: what had happened, what was still happening...
"And then?" Her voice was so quiet that I almost believed it was an echo from the depths of my mind, but it wasn't only my breath that failed.
"And now," I echoed as the wall appeared behind the flame, and I turned to them. "We forget any of that has happened. None of us has put a foot into the bar tonight." I squeezed gently Dorothy's hand, adding a few soft caresses of my thumb, while the rest of me sharpened: my gaze, my voice, and the clench of my jaw to make sure Spencer understood whom he was talking to, and whom he didn't want to mess with.
"How do we do that when everyone has seen us at the bar?"
I couldn't make out more than the faint shake of his head in the darkness, so maybe he didn't catch my murderous gaze, and I had to be sharper as I leaned to his eye level, two inches under me.
"Everyone here hates the pigs as much as I do. They'll never spill anything."
"You don't understand. It's not just anyone." Clearly, he was dumb or blind.
The muscles of my jaw were about to snap, and I was considering using something even sharper.
"It's Douglas Thornton. The mayor's son, basically, the chief of the police's son. They'll stop at nothing to find the truth."
Thornton, I'd known this name was familiar! But the town hall was far from my area, and I didn't bother with politics as long as it didn't fuck with my business...
"It doesn't change anything for the crossbones. We have a pact, and no one's crazy enough to fuck with their future boss." I kept my stance unwavering, and I hoped Dorothy didn't notice the split second my hand tightened around hers before I let it go. "Now, we just get out of here, outta sight, outta mind." I pointed my lighter to the manhole above our heads.
He may have been good at talking and questioning, but words wouldn't take us anywhere, and it was my actions so far that had saved our asses. They still were as I climbed the metal ladder against the wall, pushing open the manhole and making sure the area was clear.
Of course, it was. Though I would never admit the puff of relief I breathed in as I took in the quiet and unmoving surroundings and the calming fresh scent of pine and freedom.
It wasn't my first getaway from the cops, and I didn't even know why I'd doubted myself – Oh yes, it was for the same reason I rushed back to hold my hand out.
Dorothy, she was making me much more aware of everything I did until my movements as I helped her out of the passage, pulling her away from Spencer's wandering hands, even if we both knew she didn't need any help.
"And now, where do we go?" Once more, he was too close behind with his question, and this time, I didn't let him catch me off guard.
"That way is straight back to the bar and the pigs." I smirked, pointing to the direction he was already walking – of course, to what appeared like a slightly clearer path between cypresses.
Lucky for him, I knew this wood like the back of my tattooed hand. Though it wasn't to him that I explained, "That way leads to my house."
I showed Dorothy the narrow passage between two crooked trees and their thick foliages as she glanced around.
She had that look, the same as every time she searched for pieces of me in my 'secret places', as if the whisper of leaves could tell her all the times I'd been here in search of the perfect materials, and the moss still had the prints of all the times I'd treaded it to get away from my thoughts.
The good thing was that it meant her eyes were slowly taking back their colors and emotions; the bad was that the first one I caught under the moonlight was fear.
"That's where I parked my bike when you had your eyes closed. Comes in handy."
I still didn't know why I'd done this, except for seeing her annoyed frown, but it was my best bad intention.
"And Spencer? Your car?" She turned her big eyes to him, and in spite of everything that had happened, she was the one that looked the less lost.
"In... in front of the b-bar," Spencer stammered as if he'd just remembered he had a car, and from the color draining from his face, it was probably the case.
"Oh no, please! Dumbass!" I threw my head back towards the sky, maybe looking for help like a bold of miraculous lightning that could strike him.
"I will go back there," he announced, sadly still alive, even if he looked lightning-struck, his wide eyes fixed on Dorothy. "In the agitation, they probably won't even notice me, and if they do... I'll– I'll say I was looking for you around but didn't find you." He nodded quickly, surely trying to convince himself because I wasn't buying his bullshit.
"No way! I'm not letting you go back to the pigs. What tells us you won't snitch as soon as you're there because it's 'Douglas Thornton'?"
I should have killed him too. But I didn't want to traumatize Dorothy with another dead body. That was the only reason why he could still be puffing his chest and reply,
"I would never tell on Dorothy." He gave her an intent glance, implying something I had no idea about before coming back to me. "And even if you surely deserve to go to jail, I wouldn't risk telling anything, for Dorothy."
I stepped in front of Dorothy before he could offer her his puppy eyes again. "For Dorothy? Yeah, right, like the other 'sweet promises' you made. Your words ain't worth shit."
"What?! I've always kept my words!" He threw his large gaze from right to left, and I chuckled at his church angel's face.
"Tell me, lover boy, how many chicks did you fool like that?"
"I'm not like you. I've never–"
"He didn't cheat on me." Dorothy's quiet voice stopped his plea and the fist that was ready to take off his innocent mask, and as fast as we both jerked our heads towards her, hers was coming down.
"What?!"
"You've read my letters finally?" Spencer whispered, sounding like he was breathing back to life, ironic for someone who'd just seen a dead body for the first time.
While Dorothy was much more grave, fiddling with her fingers again. "No, I've seen Travis at the diner earlier... He told me all about the surprise you were preparing for me, the horse you bought, and how you were changing, and Diane ployed–"
"Wait, a fucking horse?!" I asked slowly, my bulging eyes jumping between them in search of a sign of joke or maybe a hidden camera.
This night was becoming more and more surreal. But they both stayed as serious, Spencer continuing with his questions,
"So you believe me?"
And Dorothy nodded grimly.
"You mean a toy? A rocking horse, right?" I laughed, trying to set back my jaw, which had almost fallen to the floor.
At least, they had loosened my tensions with this, and I was sure we were really alone in that place because if someone had seen that scene, they would have been bursting into laughter as Dorothy kept shaking her head no, and I tried again,
"A pony?"
"No, a real horse," she replied, her eyes still religiously on her hands, avoiding us.
She had looked us straight in the eyes to admit she had killed Douglas, so it was saying a lot.
"A fucking horse..."
It made sense why I'd found her in the same state as one month ago at the diner. All this time, she'd thought he'd cheated on her; it had broken her, and it turned out he'd been preparing her gift. Who even offered a fucking horse for a birthday?!
"A fucking horse?!"
"Yes, a thoroughbred, more exactly, but can we go back to the important? The police? Getting away?" Spencer pointed around to the two opposite directions and to Dorothy.
"Right, I still don't trust you." I deadpanned, my jaw tensing again.
The fact that he'd bought a horse may have made him a prince charming or some shit like that, but we were in no fairytale here. We were in the Eastside, the outlaws' side.
"I don't trust you either. What tells me you're not planning something wicked?"
"I don't plan–"
"Enough!" Dorothy's voice rose this time, like her head as she stared between us, and the color was back on her cheeks, along with her freckles popping more and more. Though I didn't know if it was a good sign. "I trust you both, and... if you both trust me, you gotta trust each other."
She was a too-good outlaw.
"For you." Spencer nodded, making the sigh I heaved out even harder to come out.
"Fine." I held out my hand. "Give me the gun."
"What?" He withdrew his hand to the gun at his belt, and it was only Dorothy's unwavering gaze on me that made me hold back the insults and killer instincts brewing inside.
"If the fuzz finds you with a gun, you're done for."
"Oh, um, okay, but I have to get it back home before my dad notices."
Great another daddy's boy!
"And if he's already noticed?" I cocked an eyebrow, my tight voice contrasting with the gun shaking in his hand.
"He hasn't. I took it once he was off to work, and with everything happening, he won't be home for a while..."
"Wait, don't tell me your dad is one of the pigs?"
"He's the sheriff," he announced as normally as he'd talked about his fucking horse, and I was left scoffing out a sound between a chuckle and a grunt at the ridiculous of this situation.
There was no way we could tell this story to someone anyway; they wouldn't believe it. It was too improbable, and it was clear the universe had a humor more dubious than mine.
"We can put it in the tree hole, and you take it back when you get home." Once more, it was Dorothy and her genius brain who settled everything, and it was only for her that I let the wide-eyed guy walk away in the direction of the fuzz when I had a gun and a knife in my hands.
"And remember that none of us stepped into the bar tonight."
"Yes, I just went around looking for you, but I didn't see you anywhere."
For Dorothy... I trusted Dorothy, so I trusted him... I repeated myself as I watched Spencer nod too quickly, and I turned to her before my fingers could slip.
"And us, we get my bike and go back home from our date, after a mind-blowing fuck."
I couldn't help it, making sure to be loud enough to be heard a few feet away. I was sparing his life and trusting him. I'd never said I would be nice. Plus, we needed a great alibi for Dorothy's messy hair and the sweat that had dampened the back of my tee-shirt.
Though the resemblance was only in appearance. Otherwise, there was no hint of ecstasy in our veins, and even less the out-of-this-world sensations I'd felt last night.
I didn't even find the thrill of adrenaline I usually thrived on in my illegal jobs. The fast beats of my heart weren't freeing; they were painful against the tight vice-grips of my ribcage and my throat. The impulses in my nerves were making my movements more jittery than sharp as I kept glancing behind at the figure that had already disappeared, and I'd also lost my wit in the crushing silence.
It had been easier in the action, but now that the idiot of her ex was gone, and Dorothy was back to being mute with no plan to focus on, I was speechless, the words twisting on my tongue and in all my insides.
What did you even say to someone who'd killed for the first time? For me, the first thing I'd been told had been 'you killed that fucker, good job, kid'. I doubted it would help her, so I just kept holding her hand, and when we caught sight of the familiar wooden sign, I told myself it was safer to not talk.
I hesitated to go find Pete because he knew too what it was to take a life, and the old fella could be wise sometimes. He would have found the words to bring back my Shooting star. But we couldn't lose more time.
We could already hear the faraway sirens, and when we reached my bike, a distant flash of blue was reflecting on the shiny metal and in her terrified eyes. We had to go before the fuzz blocked the whole area, and this time, we were really getting away like Bonnie and Clyde, full speed, with her arms around my waist, and my hand on the accelerator.
Although once we were out of the Eastside, my hand eased off, slowing down and trailing to brush her knee, as I wasn't ready to let her go, and in spite of all my efforts to postpone it, too soon, the engine stopped by that white fence.
We were right in front of her house, under the street light, which made it easy for possible witnesses to see us in the falling night and strengthen our alibi. But even the way we climbed down my bike in silence was nothing like I'd planned.
'Planned', I could have sneered at myself, although the luggage overfilled with a tent, cutleries, candles, and more seemed to already be doing it. While it should have been the tent and all these things hearing Dorothy's sweet giggles, exactly like on our first encounter, in that exact same park, and we would have added moans this time. That was what I'd planned.
But 'planned' and 'dates' didn't go well with guys like me, and I quickly shook those 'plans' away as her gaze followed mine on the luggage.
"Let's go." I took her hand, letting her lead me to her backyard with a few careful glances around. Yet even if I caught sight of some headlights down the street, I didn't stop her.
With the falling darkness and the shadows of the greenery we sneaked behind, people would believe something entirely different, and no one could guess the bulge in my pants was a murder weapon.
"Where is it?" I asked as we arrived under her window, and it wasn't hard to guess the hidey-hole was in the huge oak tree between the two houses.
"On the right, under the–"
My head snapped towards her, already expecting the sheriff to stand somewhere between the bushes. But no, I quickly understood as she pointed a hesitant finger, instead.
It was under the 'S+D forever' engraving, and the tip of the heart ended right above the hidden nook.
She was definitely too good, too kind, and worrying too much about hurting people's feelings, and ironically, that was what had led her to kill someone.
I didn't give a fuck about that engraving, which, by the way, was really badly done; the lines weren't even, and they must have used a basic kitchen knife to carve it. The only reason my stomach was twisting as I threw one last glance at it was because now, our fate wasn't in my hands anymore, and I couldn't even imagine what Spencer was doing at this moment.
"Thank you," she whispered, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I realized I'd been instinctively reaching for her, smoothing down her shirt over her stomach.
For once, I could really say there was no bad intention in the gesture. I was just brushing off any proof that she'd got away from a crime scene. But before I could reply with a 'it's nothing', and hopefully bring that cute roll of her eyes or just any reaction from her, we were interrupted by the third worst sound of the night.
"Dorothea!" The call was as strident as sirens and holding an echo that announced nothing more good than a gunshot.
"It's my mom..." Dorothy glanced to the house, from where the calls were coming, before she turned back to me, her eyes searching over my face and finally, diving into mine. "I think it's better if I... go now..." She grabbed my hands that were still on her hips, as if guessing I wasn't ready to let her go.
I couldn't let her go like that. She'd taken in what had happened by now, or at least, her eyes were coming back to the reality slowly, but that was what I feared too, that she became a cold-hearted monster anchored to a dark reality like me.
Her mind was made to be in the sky, and her shining eyes to the stars. It was the words I'd been looking for, and they came out as naturally as my hand caught hers.
"You're not a bad person."
Her eyes flicked from my hand to my face, and I hated the glistening veil that was blurring their brightness, yet I could still see the moonlight reflecting in the emerald shades like a glimmer of hope.
"Douglas was a bad person. Trust me, takes one to know one."
I didn't expect her to believe me, of course. But I needed her to have those words for when she would be left alone with her thoughts to battle.
If I could have, I would have fought them for her. I would have defended the purest heart I'd ever seen – fuck, I hadn't even known people could be good and hearts could be something else than a beating thing keeping us alive before I felt hers.
But for tonight, I could only hope to imprint those words in her, and for this, I knew only one way. She had done this one month ago and had left an indelible mark.
I leaned in and kissed one of the many freckles on her cheek, savoring the saltiness of her skin and the soft breath she let out, and when I reopened my eyes, she was already walking away towards the incessant calls, rushing like she always did, like on our first encounter.
Who would have thought then? Okay, maybe it was expected when the first time I'd seen her, she'd had a gun in her hand, and it was like coming to a full circle, but fuck, I wouldn't let this be the last time I saw her.
She was a shooting star, and as hopeless as it was, I was chasing her.
Okay, this last line might be one of my favorites I've ever written 🤩 What do you think?
I wanna know all your thoughts on this chapter and Blade's POV!! Did you expect this from him? It's the first time I use as much sarcasm and curse words, but well, it's our evil genie 😅😈😏
Also, did you guess it was Douglas she had killed? 👀 It was obvious, she's said it before: she would never kill someone innocent 😉
I hope you liked this chapter! And if so, like always, don't forget to vote ⭐ and comment! I love to hear from you my little shooting stars, and your comments are making my days magical! 🥰😘🌠
PS: Get ready for next chapter! We'll get another interesting POV 👀