Fear The Reapers: A Dark Mafia Romance (Lovesick Villains Book 1)
Fear The Reapers: Chapter 17

Melanie’s words stung. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but as I stepped towards the bar, her words were all I could think about. Sure, I was angry at her for being such an awful bitch, but I couldn’t even fault her. There was truth in her words.

I was beneath Atlas and his brothers, and whatever fascination they had with me now was only temporary. It should’ve made me happy to know that they’d eventually grow tired of me. It meant my freedom was tangible, but all I felt was unease. I didn’t want to be a fleeting fascination; I wanted to be worthy.

The emotions I always suppressed were suddenly clawing their way towards the surface and it terrified me. The Reapers made me feel… everything.

“Listen, are you in some kind of trouble?” Jacob asked, pulling me away from my thoughts.

I had been so stuck in my head; I did even see his approach.

When I didn’t immediately give him an answer, he stepped out from behind the bar and walked towards me, gently resting his hands on my shoulders.

“If you are, you can tell me.” He said, leveling his kind blue eyes with mine.

Jacob was nice. Handsome, too. The kind of guy that should be able to make me feel something. But all my mind could focus on was The Reapers.

“What makes you say that?” I asked with a smile I didn’t feel.

“Well, for starters, that guy over there looks like he wants to murder you.” He said, glancing behind me.

I followed his gaze and saw Tristan standing a few feet away from us. The flashing lights of the club reflected off of his deep emerald irises as he peered at me through his thick dark lashes.

“He’s a friend.” I mumbled, never taking my eyes off of Tristan.

“Well, what about the guy from earlier?” Jacob challenged.

Jacob was being awfully inquisitive for someone working belly deep in a club full of criminals. I could tell from the look on Tristan’s face that he didn’t like that Jacob still had his hands on me and I was starting not to like it either. He was nice, but in that, I’m a nice guy so I deserve to fuck you, kind of way.

“He’s a friend too.” I said dismissively. “Just overly protective.”

“Look,” he said, painfully jostling my shoulders, “there’s an emergency escape in the handicap stall of the women’s bathroom. I can get you out-”

“I’m fine.” I said, cutting off his words and shaking out of his hold. “Thank you for being cool earlier, but don’t worry about me.”

I pulled him in for a hug, seizing the opportunity to slip his iPhone back into his pocket. Thankfully, he accepted what I offered with no more protests. He had no clue how close he just came to death. If there was one thing I learned about The Reapers, it was that they didn’t take kindly to others touching what was theirs.

“Fucking slut.” Melanie coughed, jabbing her bony elbow into my back and sending me stumbling forward.

Jacob helped me regain my balance as I shot Melanie a venomous look. I tried to play nice, but enough was enough. If I continued to let her walk all over me, the harassment wouldn’t stop, it would only get worse. It was the same way for me in high school. Girls like her wouldn’t stop until they learned their lesson, and Melanie Diaz was overdue for a course on manners.

“How funny,” I said, with a smirk on my face, “that’s what Atlas growled into my ear last night.”

The entire room fell silent as all eyes turned towards Melanie, waiting to see her reaction. Her toothy smile faded into a grimace as blood rushed to her hollow cheeks.

“He loves his dirty talk.” I hissed, never taking my eyes off of her. “But, I’m sure you know that.”

Her lip twitched. It was a tiny give, but it let me know I had hit a nerve.

“Don’t fuck with me.” I whispered low enough so only she could hear. “Only one of us has a reputation to maintain and I like to fight very dirty. Just ask your fiancé.”

It was a low blow. Insinuating that I was sleeping with Atlas was fucked-up on so many levels. Truth was, he’d never even laid a hand on me since that first night we met. He always kept himself at a careful distance, almost as if he were afraid to get too close. But I saw a weakness, and I ran with it.

“You fucking bitch!” She hissed, rearing her fist back to hit me.

I closed my eyes and smiled, bracing myself for the pain. I knew what I was getting into the moment I opened my mouth, but feeling her wrath was worth it if it meant she no longer saw me as an easy target.

The air shifted, and the sound of skin against skin echoed in the air. I preemptively winced, but when I felt nothing, I opened my eyes to find broad shoulders blocking my view. Somehow Tristan had stepped in between us with lightning fast reflexes and was acting as my very own human shield.

“D-don’t fucking touch her.” He hissed, still holding onto her wrist with white knuckles.

“Let go of me.” Melanie spat, cursing as she shook out of his hold. “This is between me and that bitch.”

Tristan settled into his position, refusing to move an inch.

“You know what, forget it.” She laughed, rubbing her hand. “There’s no use trying to talk sense in to a stupid fucking fr-fr-freak.”

Rage licked across my skin as I watched Tristan bolt and storm out of the club. I didn’t realize he had a speech impediment, I just assumed he didn’t enjoy talking to me. That he spoke up for me in front of the entire crowd of people was a big deal.

I set my eyes on Melanie, who was still nursing her wounded ego. She could fuck with me all she wanted, but I would not let her get away with treating Tristan like that. He was only trying to protect me and he may not want to hit a woman in good conscience, but I sure the fuck would.

“Kenzie!” She spat, waving her little lackey over. “Let’s go.”

“No. Fuck that.” I hissed, getting into her face. “You’ll talk shit to a man you know will never hit you. What about me?”

“What about you?” She scoffed, looking down her nose at me.

“You wanted to hit me a few seconds ago.” I goaded. “Do it.”

“No.” She said, her eyes darting around the room at the crowd who was still hungry for action.

“Oh, come on. Should we call Atlas over to help jog your memory?”

“Fuck you!” She spat, chucking a sloppy punch to my mouth.

Melanie Diaz hit like a bitch. I tasted the blood in my mouth before I felt the sting. I wanted to laugh, I’d been hit harder than that most of my life. This fight was about to get very fucking interesting.

I gripped her hair with my left hand and even though she was bigger than me; I gained leverage as I pulled her to the ground and climbed on top of her.

Fighting Melanie was cathartic. With each punch, all the emotions swirling within me released. Melanie tried to claw and scratch at my face, but she didn’t have shit on the moves I had to learn to survive the mean girls at my high school. She was a prissy princess, and it showed.

She tried to push me off of her, kicking and bucking like an angry bull, but her attempts were futile. I wrapped my thighs around her like a vise, and the only way she was escaping is if I decided she could.

It was obvious Melanie was used to having other people fight her battles for her. Her eyes kept searching the crowd for someone to come to her rescue. She acted as if she were the queen of the fucking universe, yet even her loyal subjects weren’t coming to her aid; The redhead was missing in action and I smiled at the irony. I was defending a man that I was sure hated me while Melanie’s fake friend stood idly by, watching her get her ass beat.

Warm blood trickled from my lips as I hovered above her, smiling like a maniac. Her lashes fluttered as the coppery substance began raining down on her, and she screamed, struggling to escape even more.

I stopped my assault to stare at the crimson drops as they splattered across her face. Watching them fall was hypnotic. I understood why Ezra loved his “art” so much. It was fascinating to see the evidence of your madness and depravity spilled out on a canvas.

A laugh spilled from my lips and once it started, there was no stopping it. I had just gotten into a fight over a man that hadn’t said two words to me and I was now finding common ground to the most certifiably insane of them all. What the fuck was wrong with me?

Strong hands gripped tightly around my waist and I felt myself being pried off of her. Atlas handed me to Ezra as he moved to help Melanie up. I stared down at my knuckles and saw they were raw with fresh blood seeping out of them. How long had I been on top of her? It felt like seconds, but could’ve just as easily been a few minutes.

My eyes darted to the devastation I left behind. Melanie’s face was coated in blood, though most of it was mine. She had a split lip and I could see a black eye already forming. I winced at my destruction. The violence. The all-consuming rage. It wasn’t like me at all. Who was that back there?

“You’re dead, bitch.” Melanie hissed as the redhead moved to grab her, and Atlas carried me away. “Fucking dead.”

It was the second time that night I felt her words ring true. A little part of me died the moment I stepped into their world, and it had only been a couple of days. How long would it take before I stopped recognizing myself all together?

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