Scarred heart

3

The atmosphere got dense as cooling tar. Hang-arounds scattered, shrieking in fear as they hid behind furniture or fled the room, some without their clothes on. The sheer sense of panic was sour in the air, and Scar’s gums itched for violence.

He

ducked and moved behind the sofas, intent on approaching the fucker from the

back. The cigarette butts and dirt littering the floor were disgusting against

his fingertips, but he progressed toward the enemy as quickly and silently as

possible, his head pulsing harder. The longer he took to disarm the fucker, the

more dangerous the situation would get. Scar couldn’t have that. Not in his

home.

“Come

on now, don’t be an i***t,” said Rev, their sergeant-at-arms, in a calm, steady

voice. His reliable personality was one of the reasons why he played the club

lawman, and maybe he would provide enough distraction for Scar to attack the

piece of trash from the back.

“Me?

You guys are f*****g laughable. You don’t even carry your firearms with you?” Leo

hissed with a slur in his voice, and Scar clenched his teeth. At this point during

a party, all the club members were too drunk to take out an armed enemy without

it being a risk to everyone else, but if Rev kept up the negotiations, the

situation could still be diffused. No one needed a dead civilian buried on club

grounds, just because he’d had too much speed and considered himself

untouchable.

Knight

must have noticed what Scar was doing, because after their eyes met for a split

second, Knight casually pushed back his long hair and stepped closer to Leo.

Inevitably, Leo turned the gun on him, but at least it drew attention away from

Scar.

“How

many bullets do you have in that tiny gun of yours, asshole? How many people

can you shoot before someone bashes your brains in?” Knight asked in a low

voice.

Not

exactly the approach Scar would take when talking to an armed man who was

either drunk or on drugs, but it would do as a distraction. The moment the

fucker opened his mouth, all his attention on Knight, Scar leapt at his legs

and cut him down like a tree.

Leo

let out a high-pitched yelp, but as soon as he hit the floor, the gun went off,

followed by a rumble.

Scar

twisted Leo’s hand to make him let go of the firearm, then delivered a powerful

punch by slamming his elbow into the twisted face. Plaster-smelling dust

unexpectedly blew into his face, and the room exploded with loud cries. Scar’s

head shot up, and in the pale, powdery cloud he saw a man struggling against a

large block lying among scattered pieces of rubble.

The

subdued light was barely enough to illuminate the ceiling, but with his heart

beating furiously, Scar noticed a large dent in the sculpted decoration

above—the source of the debris that rained on the floor in chunks rather than

tiny pieces.

Lizzy,

the band’s frontman, jumped off the stage, screaming for someone to call an

ambulance for her father, but barely anyone listened in the commotion. More

people were fleeing the room now that they weren’t at risk of taking a bullet,

and Scar was left calculating if they should all evacuate.

Leo

squirmed under him, trying to free himself out of Scar’s grip. “I’m sorry!” he

screamed, now sounding not only regretful but frightened for his life. Too late

for that.

Rev,

was by Davy’s side, lifting the pieces of wood and brick off alongside Lizzy,

Knight, and Joker. “I told you this place isn’t safe! We either actually invest

and renovate, or we have to move!” he growled, tossing a large chunk of debris

so hard it hit the nearest wall and fell with a dull thud.

Only

seconds later Scar realized it was Dean Rev was arguing with. “It’s only stops

being safe when someone shoots at the ceiling, for f**k’s sake!”

“And

what, a chunk of the ceiling would fall off in a normal building? Get a cold

shower,” hissed Rev, straining his muscles as he and Knight lifted the large

piece off Davy, who screamed out as if someone was pulling his nails one by

one. Lizzy, who tried to help his father get out from under the heavy slab of

brick, was so pale Scar feared he’d faint at any moment.

Pushing

Leo firmer against the ground to keep him still, Scar looked at them, still

confused by the choking dust and chaos around him. “What happened?”

Dean

looked to him with a scowl. “The bullet dislodged something in the ceiling—”

Rev

butted in with a snarl, spreading his thick arms away from the naked, tattooed

chest. “The ceiling is falling apart. Look at this, Davy’s leg is f****d!”

And

to make matters worse, only now Scar realized a loud, ferocious barking was

resonating from the corridor where Hound, his dog, had been locked away for the

night.