Page 216 of The Fire We Make

She was ready to let Von wet up the whole room and have Ace whisk her out of there to make up for the week’s worth of missed kisses. She was about to suggest doing just that, when Jermaine’s voice ripped through the air.

“You don’t get to disrespect me and embarrass me again then ride off into the sunset. We had a deal bitch!” Jermaine roared.

Joy wasn’t moved. Because for the first time, his voice didn’t carry weight.

For the first time, she wasn’t expected to slay the dragons alone.

Jermaine lunged, but Ace moved instantly, stepping between them with his gun lifted, stopping Jermaine’s advancement with a screeching halt.

“If you lay a finger on her I will cut you open and scoop your guts out with a rusty spoon,” he warned through gritted teeth. “And I know ways to make sure you’re conscious when I do it.”

Jermaine’s light skin paled as fear replaced arrogance.

“You know, Jermaine,” Joy said, stepping around Ace. “I think I’ve had about enough of you disrespecting me.”

“Apologize,” Ace demanded, gun still trained on Jermaine.

Jermaine sputtered but one look at the two of them made him push the words out. “I’m sorry aight?”

“That was weak,” Joy pouted.

“Maybe he should try on his knees, love,” Ace proposed.

“I’m not getting on my–” Jermaine started.

Without looking away, Ace shot Jermaine’s two guards in their chests, making Jermaine and Byron both jump.

“On. Your. Knees,” Joy repeated with a smile.

Ace’s dick twitched, watching his queen's unrestrained venom.

Slowly, Jermaine lowered onto his knees. “I’m sorry Joy. Okay, I’m sorry. Really. Please.”

Ace looked at Joy. “Do you accept?” he deferred to her. He held the gun but she held the power and she grew drunk on it. She was damn near giddy as she continued the game she and Ace played.

She tilted her head. “No,” she answered.

Ace's lips turned up in a wicked grin that she was sure matched her own. He held his gun out for her but she waved him off, pulling her own desert eagle from beneath her dress.

She stepped towards Jermaine, her heels clicking against the hard wood in the silence.

“Joy,” Byron started.

“Shut up,” she hissed. Her voice didn’t waver or crack. She was completely unrestrained now. Completely free. Everyone in the room felt the wickedness oozing off of her.

Her eyes weren't vacant though.

She wasn’t far away or disassociated.

She wasn’t spiraling or slipping.

She was more present than she had ever been in her life. Somehow, that fact made her even more terrifying.

She stood before Jermaine and caressed the side of his face with the barrel of her gun.

“Joy–”

“Shut up,” she told Jermaine.