Page 30 of Bully's Darkness
“Hey yourself. Where are you, Liv?” My voice is tight.
“I told you, I’m out with the girls.”
“You’re supposed to be home.” I try to keep my voice level, but the edge is already there. “You know what's going on with the Scorpions.”
“I’m not a prisoner, and I’m not hiding just because some wankers are revving their engines,” she says, casual as anything. I hear laughter in the background. Glasses clinking. A low beat from the music. The girls.
“Liv,” her name comes out low, rough, “this isn’t a joke. I told you to stay in for a reason.”
“And I told you, I’m not beingthatwoman. You think I’m safer holed up in the club with your men?”
“Safer than out there, yeah.” I pace to the door, shoving it open and scanning the street like I might see her. “You haveanyidea what could go down tonight?”
“I have a right to live my life, not just sit in a box while you and your club handle everything your way. Before you got out, I did this all the time.” There’s steel in her voice now, but it’s the wrong kind. Not fear, not defiance.Challenge.
I press my fingers to my temple, trying to breathe past the fury knotting in my gut. “Where. Are. You?”
“Don’t you use that tone with me.”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Too late.”
I hang up, already halfway to the bike. “Taz,” I call, throwing my leg over the bike. He appears in seconds. “Liv’s gone. I need to get her back here. Oversee Smiler’s plan, and I’ll join you soon as I’m done.”
“You’re not going alone,” he says firmly, putting his fingers in his mouth and whistling loud enough to get the brothers’ attention. “Smiler, plan’s on hold. We got an old lady to find,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads for his bike.
Smiler and Boss rush out, and as I put my helmet on, I smile. I’ve missed the solidarity of my brothers.
Olivia
“There’s a tracker on my phone,” I tell Bria as we line up for the bathroom, “but I turned my phone off, so he shouldn’t find me, right?”
“Right,” she says, smirking.
“You think he will?”
“I think he knows all your tricks and he’s probably one step ahead.”
“Well, I don’t care,” I snap, pushing down the slight panic in my chest. “He’s got to relax and realise I’m not in danger twenty-four-seven. Seriously, what can happen in a busy bar?”
A sharp, unnatural pop cracks through the noise of the bar.
We both freeze.
Then another pop, louder this time, and suddenly, the air shifts. Music cuts out. Screams erupt like an explosion. People shouting.Panic.
Bria grabs my hand, nails digging into my skin. “What the fuck is that?” she whispers, her face draining of colour.
Another pop. Then a shatter. Glass—maybe a bottle, maybe a window—crashes somewhere out front. The sounds come fast now . . . thudding boots, overturned chairs, more shouting. Angry voices. Male. Too many.
And then the bathroom door slams open so hard, it ricochets off the tiled wall.
Darren fills the doorway like a nightmare, face hard, eyes scanning, jaw tight.
“You need to move,” he growls. He looks like violence, like barely restrained fury in a leather cut.
