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How dare they tell Alina that she’s a waste of space? That no one likes her? That no one wants her here?
I want to peel the skin off their worthless bodies and cut out their tongues for ever daring to speak such vicious lies. And they are lies. Not only because of how I feel about her. Carla and the rest of her housemates genuinely like Alina too. Which I know for a fact because I looked into them the moment I realized that Alina considered them friends.
But as I draw closer to the wind shelter, I’m forced to suppress my murderous instinct. Simply torturing them to death would not undo the damage they have caused. No matter how satisfying their screams of pain and fear would be. So this situation requires a different approach.
The smell of cigarettes reaches me the moment I round the building.
Strong winds blow across the asphalt, carrying more of the faint smoke from behind the short wooden wall that sticks out from the back of the building. Thick angry clouds cover the sky above, painting the already gray concrete walls around us with even bleaker hues. I can taste the oncoming storm in the air.
I stride around the wooden wind shelter to find two women standing there, both of them holding a cigarette in one hand. I move until I’m standing right in front of them.
They jump when they see me.
“Hunter,” the blonde one says. It’s both a greeting and a question.
When I don’t reply, she quickly drops her cigarette on the ground and squashes it with her shoe while elbowing her friend, who does the same.
“We were just leaving.” She gives me what I think is supposed to be a placating smile. “It’s all yours.”
“Leslie,” I say.
“Yes?” the brown-haired one, who has been silent up until now, replies hesitantly while glancing from side to side with now very nervous blue eyes.
I drag my gaze to the blonde girl next to her. “And Jane.”
She nods, looking equally nervous. “Yes?”
“You made Alina Petrov cry.” It’s not a question.
Confusion and hesitation flit across their faces, and they exchange a glance.
I hurl a throwing knife into the wooden wall behind them. It passes so close to Jane that it clips some of her blonde strands. Both of them let out a short scream.
“Don’t look at each other!” I snap, my voice cutting through the air like the crack of a whip. “Look at me.”
Fear shines in their eyes as they slowly turn to face me fully.
“You made Alina Petrov cry,” I repeat.
Silence falls over the wind shelter for a few seconds as they just stare back at me with wide eyes. Then they nod.
Merciless fury seeps through my veins as my hand shifts to my blades. Jane opens her mouth to say something, but I have already made my move.
Yanking throwing knife after throwing knife from my holsters, I hurl them into the wooden wall one after the other.
Terrified cries echo as the blades hit with sharp thwacks, burying themselves in two almost complete circles. One around Jane’s head and the other around Leslie’s.
Once I’m out of knives, and both of them have a ring of blades dangerously close to their heads, I at last lower my hands again.
Fear radiates from my two victims, pulsing through the space between us like a physical thing and leaving a sharp tang in the air.
The moment I stop throwing, their knees buckle and they crash down on the ground.
On their hands and knees, Leslie gasps in breaths and stares up at me with terrified eyes while Jane doubles over and actually vomits.
“Please, I’m sorry,” Leslie blurts out.
I stare them both down with hard eyes. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”
