Page 162 of Overcast

“Where are the lights?” Bianca asserts, digging her fingers into my shoulder blades. “I wanna see the inside.”

It doesn’t matter but...

I begin to shift us towards the kitchen so we can end this fucking charade out the backdoor. “They’re right over—” The soft click of a light turning on practically echoes through the room, and, on instinct, I’m on the ready to fight.

Shoving Bianca away from me, my pinpoint falls on a small body sitting upright on the couch with their arms sternly crossed over their chest, lifting up her perfect breasts in a white tank top and...beautiful locks cascading down her—

“What the fuck did you do to your hair?” Gone are the blonde strands that I loved to run my fingers through. The ones that brightened Stormi’s eyes and smile.

Now they’re a light hue of blue, but they still mirror perfectly off her stunning features.

Fuck, she looks amazing and...different.

“What the fuck did you bring home?” she snaps back, her eyes severing into my face.

I can feel the heat protruding off them, chipping away flakes of skin and my plan as she pins a scowl on me. Her and Bishop should hook up with some ideas, he loves sweltering shit too.

“Uh oh,” Bianca utters, latching on to my side possessively. “We should’ve gone in the back way.”

Yeah, no shit.

I shrug her off to gain some distance and my pussy-whipped dick back then decide to use the basic ass line of, “It’s not what you think. I’ll explain—”

“Explain?” Stormi repeats, rising from her spot. “Go fuck your entire self, Marty, Emric—” She starts for the stairs. “—whatever the hell you want to call yourself today. You freaking prick!”

Damn.

“Stormi,” I call after her. “Hold on one fucking—”

“Stormi?” Bianca reiterates, snapping her neck to the woman whose hand just touched the banister. At that exact moment, Stormi turns as Bianca raises a finger and points at her. “You were taken.”

I watch my girl adjust her jaw and begin stalking back in our direction, hands clutched into tiny fists.

“Taken?” she mocks through clenched teeth. “Bitch I was fucking kidnapped. When it should’ve been you!”

“For what?” Bianca scoffs.

“For trying to murder Reagan Lockwood, not me!” She points at the faint mark on her cheek that I trailed my blade down. “I was tortured for information that you clearly had.”

“How do you know about that?” Bianca barks back, digging herself a hole with her awareness. “Did Hollis tell you?”

And there’s strike two.

Stormi wrinkles her nose. “Hollis? He’s dead for all I know.” She jerks her head in my direction. “Ask him.”

The room falls back to being silent as Bianca slowly twists her head to me with recognition, dawning all over her face.

I knew she wasn’t that stupid.

“Surprise,” I deadpan. Bianca then suddenly makes an inept attempt for the door, but I already have a hold on her forearm.

My touch is received with a punch to the side of my head and a kick to my shin, festering my already risen temper.

“Get the fuck off me,” Bianca hollers, jerking her weight to try and get free.

Movement shifts in my peripheral, and I release her before she sprints again but runs right smack into Bishop’s chest of steel.

“You got dirt all over my backseat,” he claims dryly, twisting her frame and wrapping his bulky forearm around her throat. Then he squeezes as Bianca’s pink fingernails dig into his flesh, seeking to get her declining air supply back. “Go take care of what you need to, I’ll take her to the bunker.”

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