Page 36 of Bully's Darkness
I nod once, and the van rolls to the curb, no headlights.
“Taz, Smiler, Ragnar, Stretch, and Lords, you’re in with me,” I instruct. “Boss and Whizz, run distraction at the back.”
The power grid is ready to go, and a jammer blocking the place from pinging for help has been set up. No one’s getting out until we’re done.
“Keep it clean,” I mutter, strapping on my gloves. “No bodies. This is a message, not a war cry.”
Smiler smirks. “What’s the message?”
I look up at the building, jaw tight. “You got close. Now, we’re closer.”
Taz kicks the service door in. The bouncer barely gets a blink before Ragnar drops him with a taser and drags him out the way. Inside, it’s red lights and a stale stench of sex. Whizz kills the power, and the music stops. The perfect sound of chaos fills the air—girls screaming, clients panicking, mixed with our heavy boots.
Stretch heads to the DJ booth and starts the playlist we brought. “Can’t Stop” by Red Hot Chili Peppers blasts out, bringing a smile to my face.
I walk straight to the office. Dagger’s not here—we knew he wouldn’t be—but we’re not here forhim. The office reeks of stale cigars and leather polish. His chair spins slowly, abandoned.
I plant the crowbar into the desk drawers while Taz checks the safe. There’s nothing but cash and a loaded Glock, all untouched.
“Don’t take the money,” I say. “Leave it. Let them wonder why wedidn’t.”
I grab a photo off the wall, a framed picture of Dagger and his crew raising drinks around this very room. I slam it to the floor, shattering glass across the carpet.
“Tag it,” I order.
Smiler steps up, pulls a can of spray paint from his jacket, and scrawls across the wall in thick black letters:
YOU MISSED. WE WON’T.
Stretch pours petrol over the broken glass and office floor, just enough to burn but not enough to kill. We’re halfway down the stairs when Boss radios in.
“Security feeds are scrubbed. Time to roll.”
I take one last look over the club, red lights blinking, girls huddled near the exit, bouncers on their knees with their hands behind their heads.Good. They’ll remember the fear.
I flick the lighter and toss it over the railing. It lands with awhumpf, fire crawling fast across the floor like it’s hungry.
We’re out and gone in sixty seconds. Our van pulls away without a trace, just as the first plume of smoke rises into the sky.
In the rearview mirror, Taz grins. “Think he’ll get the message this time?”
I stare ahead, fists clenched. “No, but maybe he’ll be tempted to fill us in on why he’s coming for us . . . orme.”
The club is quiet when we return. Not the peaceful kind, the waiting kind. Like the walls know we’ve done something tonight, and now, they’re holding their breath for the fallout. Because therewillbe more retaliation, more nights like this one.
I head upstairs to my floor and toe off my boots at the door. I creep into the bedroom and shrug off my kutte, careful not to wake Liv. The scent of smoke clings to me, bitter and sharp, but all I want to do is feel her against me. The moonlight spills across the bed, catching on Liv’s bare shoulder where the blankets haveslipped down. She’s curled up on my side, peaceful, blissfully unaware of the storm surrounding her.
I strip off silently and slip beneath the sheets. She stirs as I slide behind her, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her into me. I hum in pleasure as her soft, warm body presses against my own.
“Bully?” she whispers, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Yeah, baby,” I murmur against her hair.
“Where were you?”
I press a kiss to the back of her neck, fingers brushing her stomach. “Handling shit.”
She doesn’t ask more. She knows better. But I feel her body tense, just for a second, like sheknowsexactly who it involved. I hold her tighter.
