Three out of the five of them immediately look like a deer caught in headlights. The girl is still barely paying attention to me, which I find comical. I just shot one of her friends. The guy is still groaning on the pavement.

Scooter glances down at him, concern etched into his features. He can’t even hide it, and that’s when something clicks. He cares about Miller. Like, genuinely. Definitely in more than a coworker way, if the distraught expression on his face is anything to go off of. He tries to school it but it doesn’t work.

I step on Miller’s hand. Hard. He screams again, and I leave it there. Scooter predictably flinches, and his expression darkens.

“I did,” he tells me through grit teeth. “Take it out on me, not him.”

They don’t look related, but he seems to care about this guy a lot. What, are they best friends or something? Is this his Winter? Good, then he’ll understand.

I get an idea. I grind my foot into his hand a bit more, and the man whimpers. I don’t move my gaze from Scooter, though, who takes a step forward. I step on the hand even harder, resulting in Miller making another loud noise of pain. I can hear the grinding of bone. Scooter stops.

“Only if you do the same,” I tell him blandly, referring to the fact that he needs to take his shit up with Pierce or I. Not Winter Fucking Torres, she’s off limits. Anybody who has met me, anyone with a brain, knows that.

There’s a reason people believe I’m in love with her—because I am, just not in the way they think. No, those feelings are directed at someone else entirely.

But she is the only thing I’ve ever done right. The only good in my life. I’m a piece of shit, obviously—god knows why she hangs out with me, and I also have no self preservation. I’ll die before they lay a fucking finger on her.

Scooter’s entire body is tense. His hands shake.

“Deal,” he hisses.

The girl finally glances up. She quirks an eyebrow at me, appearing impressed. The rest just stare at me in disbelief. Miller continues to have an extremely shitty night.

I reach down and grab Miller by his ankle, before beginning to take steps towards Scooter. A few of the guys tense, one even reaching for something on his person. That almost sets me off again, but Scooter makes some sort of hand motion and he stops.

I don’t stop until I’m right in front of him, hoisting Miller up by his hoodie and throwing him at Scooter, who catches the slightly smaller guy easily. Then, I grab Pierce by the bicep and begin walking away, dragging him on the pavement as well. He seems kind of out of it, which I can tell because he lets me.

As I do so, I hear Scooter’s voice behind me again.

“This isn’t over, Hello Kitty.”

He definitely did that on purpose.

I don’t sweat it. I just open the door and throw Pierce in the backseat, spotting Belladonna already in the passenger. She must have snuck in there at some point, probably to hide and save her own ass.

I don’t care. I don’t even answer him. I just pat Pierce down until I find his keys and get in the driver’s seat, then lurch the car forward. This forces all of them to jump out of the way, though I’m pretty sure one is slightly too late and I get him in the leg. Then, I drive to where I parked my car. Behind the bleachers on the other side. I pull into the parking spot beside it and cut the engine.

Finally, I can go home.

When I look at Belladonna, she’s already staring at me, visibly put off. That makes sense, she hadn’t really seen me like that before. Over the situation—over the night—to the point where I’ll do anything to resolve it. She’s never seen me that aggressive.

I try to be on decent behavior when it comes to the racing, after all. That brings in the most money, so it’s a priority. All this does boil down to just being another job, after all. Tonight I didn’t care, though. Tonight, Vaughn saw me without makeup. He noticed my freckles. He looked at me with something other than frustration and hatred, it still couldn’t have been anything positive.

I’ve had a long night. I’m done.

“Thank you,” Belladonna says quietly.

Pierce chooses that moment to get his wits about him again, and he is of course instantly bitching.

“What the—you didn’t have to steal my car,” he groans. I clench my jaw. “You think you’re such a badass, well—”

My voice is low when I interrupt him, borderline soulless to the point I almost don’t even recognize it.

I’ve finally just fuckign snapped. I don’t care if it’ll piss her off if she finds out, never one to appreciate being taken care of. I just can’t fucking take it anymore.

“If I catch you with another girl,” I begin, venom dripping from every letter. “If she gets hurt, if you so much as make her cry—”

He’s dead silent. Belladonna shifts uncomfortably.

“When I’m done with you, you won’t wake up. Is that clear?”

Dead silence. My heart rate is steady despite my rage, which might have something to do with the exhaustion. Or possibly the restraint. After a long minute of dead silence, I speak again.

“Is that fucking clear, Pierce?”

“I—” he huffs. I see Belladonna give him a look, possibly one of warning. He then finishes with a mumbled, “…whatever.”

I throw his keys behind myself, at the backseat where he’s currently still laying on his side.

“Ow! My fucking eye—”

I get out of the car, slamming the door shut behind myself with enough force to piss him off further. Then, I get inside my own vehicle, taking almost no time to even find a radio station before I’m peeling out of the parking lot. I drive past Pierce’s vehicle with enough speed to jostle it, which I also hope pisses him off.

Then, I’m finally home bound.

When I pull into the apartment complex parking lot, I realize I left all my jewelry at Winter’s. And my shoes. And my clothes. Blood is spattered on my pant leg and foot, a pretty good amount of it too, and damn. Now I basically have to do laundry. I can’t put it off any longer.

I sigh, walking past buildings and drawing nearer and nearer to my own. As I’m passing between a couple, however, I hear a loud noise. One so recognizable yet uncommon I stop in my tracks.

It’s a screech. It sounds like a cat or something, one that’s in pain or at least some form of distress. There is also the noise of clanging and some sounds of struggle, and I’m instantly alarmed. I shouldn’t go look for the source. I’m tired, and sticking my nose in the business of others has never done me any favors. Basically rule one of survival: mind your business.

I hear it again, and sigh.

Against my better judgement, I turn and hurry down the cracked concrete that lines the whole complex, pulling out my phone flashlight once the street lamps are no longer any help, and searching around. I follow the noise of struggle, keeping my other hand hovering over my firearm just in case.

Once I near the end of the alleyway and spot the chain link fence divide, it makes sense. It’s hard for me to tell what animal it is at first, but it is clearly stuck under the fence, the sharp ends of the wire digging into its back. It appears as though the fence that lines the pavement is bolted down, aside from that one spot which has come loose. The animal clearly thought they could fit underneath. They could not. They are stuck.

Once I catch sight of a striped tail, it clicks.

A raccoon.

I near it slowly, not stopping until I’m right next to the thing. It has some weight to it, so clearly it’s been getting its fair share of trash. No wonder it’s stuck. There’s a bit of blood where the fence is digging into it worse and worse the more it struggles.

A part of me softens.

That’s rare.

Normally I’d leave it like this. Mind my business, let nature take its course, and I even make to walk away. Go on about my night, get some fucking sleep. Or try to, anyway.

I only make it a few steps before it lets out another noise of pain, and I can’t take it.

I turn around and walk back to it, noticing the animal struggle more and more as I draw near, growing frantic, clearly not trusting me. I don’t blame it. I don’t trust anyone either, most don’t have the best intentions.

“If you scratch me, I’m gonna be pissed,” I notify it, because rabies is scary and I don’t have healthcare.

It’s panting, which somehow causes me more haste. I grab the bottom of the fence beside the animal, then hoist it up with all my strength. The wire breaks away from the bolts, making the gap much wider, and the raccoon is finally able to move again. I watch it scatter, sprinting off into the night and hiding somewhere to get away from me.

Figures.

“You’re welcome,” I mumble, running a hand through my hair and turning around. By the time I reach my apartment, the confrontation with the raccoon has mostly slipped my mind. Once I arrive in front of my door, it couldn’t be further from it. Lost to all the other crazy shit that happens to me.

I’m distracted by something else. Eviction notice.

Fuck. I need to pay my rent. Most of my money goes into my car and food and general survival. Bills are not the priority they should be. Judging by the paper I have at least another month or so, though. I can come up with the money in that time.

I unlock and push open the door with a sigh, immediately met with no air conditioning and an apartment set at a sold 80 degrees, since I’m pretty sure that’s what it is outside.

This isn’t my first rodeo. I don’t waste time, walking over to the window and shoving it open. At least there’s a breeze outside, and regulating the air will help. I then strip off most of my clothes and lay in my bed, already slightly sweaty. The pillow is cold, though, which feels great. A small upside that I latch onto for some semblance of peace and comfort, since I won’t be getting it from Winter like I thought I would.

I make a mental note to go to the laundromat tomorrow. I think about the raccoon. I think about money. I think about Winter.

I think about Vaughn.

Then, after the day I had, I’m finally allowed to rest.