Chapter 145: Don’t you dare.

I’m told Lysander left for work early this morning.

The bastard probably knew exactly what kind of reaction he would get from me after what he did yesterday. And instead of having the decency to stay home and face the consequences of his actions, he decided to disappear to work.

Coward.

Well, that’s fine.....if he wants to avoid me, I can always go looking for him.

And that’s exactly how I find myself sitting in the back of a car with Hakeem driving me to the club for a quick, "harmless" visit.

When we arrive, the club looks practically deserted from the outside. The entrance is quiet, and there are only a handful of cars parked around the building. I guess it’s a little too early for people to start tripping in.

Perfect.

I couldn’t have asked for a better time.

Hakeem pulls into the parking area and brings the car to a stop. Before he can even get out to open my door, I’ve already pushed it open, stepped outside and head straight for the trunk.

The morning air brushes against my face as I walk, my heels clicking against the pavement. I open the trunk and look inside.

There it is.....My weapon of choice.

A baseball bat.

I reach for it and pull it out, testing its weight in my hand.

Beautiful.

I found it with Hakeem’s help, although I suspect the man had a pretty good idea of what I intended to do with it. He hadn’t asked too many questions when I told him I needed something sturdy.

Instead, he handed me the baseball bat, then he handed me another one.

"Just in case the first one broke." He said.

The man is messy..... I like him.

I close the trunk and turn towards the parking area. It doesn’t take long to identify Lysander’s car.

Honestly, it would be difficult not to.

Among the vehicles parked around the club, his stands out like it belongs in a bloody showroom. It’s flashy, expensive-looking and polished so perfectly that the morning sunlight reflects off its surface.

Of course.

The man probably has a separate wardrobe for his cars.

I don’t care if it’s the only model of that car in the entire world. I don’t care if it costs more than a house or if he imported it from some ridiculous country.

He hurt me, so it’s only fair I hurt the fucker back.

I start walking, my heels clicking against the pavement with every step. I deliberately take my time, letting myself enjoy the anticipation. By the time I reach the driver’s side, my anger has settled into something much more focused.

I raise the bat and take a swing.

The first hit lands against the driver’s window and a loud crack rings through the parking area, but the glass doesn’t break. There’s only a deep fracture spreading across the surface.

I stare at it, thn look down at the bat.

"Oh, come on."

I raise the bat again, gripping it with both hands this time. I think about waking up this morning and finding his name permanently marked on my finger, i think about the swollen skin, the sting, and the fact that I had absolutely no say in what he did to my body.

Then I swing hard.

The glass finally gives way, It shatters with a satisfying crash, sending pieces scattering across the seat and pavement.

A triumphant smile spreads across my face.

There we go...much better.

I move towards the rear window and bring the bat down again.

Another crash, then another and at this point I’m beginning to enjoy myself.

The sound attracts attention, and I notice movement from the corner of my eye. Several of Lysander’s guards are approaching, their expressions ranging from confusion to outright alarm.

One of them raises a hand.

"Madam, we..."

I turn towards him.

"Don’t you dare."

My voice comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t particularly care.

I point the bat in his direction.

"Not one step closer."

He stops.

I look at the others, making sure every single one of them understands that I’m not in the mood to entertain anybody.

They exchange glances and I watch as one of them touches his earpiece and speaks quietly into it.

I narrow my eyes.

Oh, so we’re calling for backup?

I wait, the bat resting against my shoulder.

A few seconds pass, then the man lowers his hand and steps back.

Whoever he spoke to has apparently decided that intervening isn’t a good idea.

Smart decision.

I turn back to the car.

Now, where was I?

I move around the vehicle, taking my time with the remaining windows. The sound of breaking glass echoes through the otherwise quiet parking area. There are pieces scattered everywhere now. Some land on the seats, others fall onto the ground. A few tiny shards catch my skin, leaving little cuts on my fingers and forearm.

I glance down at the thin red lines that has appeared on my skin.

Whatever.

By the time I’m finished, every window is either cracked or completely shattered. The once-pristine vehicle looks like it has survived a rather unfortunate encounter with a hurricane.

I take a few steps back and admire my work.

Beautiful...Absolutely fucking beautiful.

I lower the bat and brush some glass shards from the front of my dress. A few pieces have caught in the fabric, and I carefully pick them out before dusting my hands.

I even stomp my heels against the pavement, making sure I’m completely done.

Yes, I wore heels today.....Just to make a point.

I pull out my phone, open my contacts and scroll until I find his name.

My thumb hovers over the screen for a moment.

Then I type.

*****This is for branding me without my consent. Try that shit again and I’ll be breaking more than just your car windows. PS: I hope this car was one among your expensive cars.******

I hit send and I watch as the message delivers almost immediately.

I stare at the screen, waiting for a reply, but nothing comes.

Well, he can take his time. I’m sure he’ll be very busy admiring his new car windows.

I turn around and make my way back towards Hakeem. He’s standing beside the car with his hands tucked into his pockets, looking at the wreckage behind me.

And smiling...The man looks downright proud.

He opens the car door for me this time, still wearing that ridiculous smile. I climb inside, carefully arranging my dress before settling into the seat.

Hakeem closes the door and walks around to the driver’s side.

As he gets in, I glance at the baseball bat still in my hand.

I suppose I should return it or perhaps keep it.....You never know when you’ll need one.

Hakeem starts the engine and looks at me through the rearview mirror.

"Where to now, Madam?"

I smile sweetly.

"Let’s head to the hospital, shall we?"