Edges of tomorrow

8. Rest in hell

"You become forgotten when no one no longer mentions your name."

Elizabeth Decker,

I was exhausted. I was locked out the entire night, in the thunderstorm covered in dirt and mud. And for fucks sake you would not believe what happened five minutes after I left my car to walk home.

The car had exploded in pieces which caused multiple cuts and bruises over my exposed arms.

So to say I was pissed off was the understatement of the year. Sure agents are supposed to adapt to any condition in theory we could, but in fucking reality I wanted to put bullet through peoples head.

As soon as the door opened I grabbed the strapped gun where I knew it would be, and marched inside, my hair was tangled in mud bits and I'm pretty sure there are things crawling on my body, My soaked cloths dripped over the marble floor and on the white carpet. The double doors opened and I shot whoever was sitting at the head of the table once in each shoulder, as the men in the room dropped their knives and forks and rushed to action.

I unclipped the gun and threw it at Salvador who walked into the room holding a plate full of deliciousness. He barely ducked it as I grabbed the plate and walked upstairs to my room. I could hear his heavy steps following mine as he yanked the door of its hinges.

"What the fuck was that about?!" He calmly yelled at me, and honestly if the plate was empty I would throw that at him too.

"I should be fucking asking you that! The bomb in the car huh? Mary? Did you kill her? What kind of sick twisted message was that you fucker? Sending me on drug runs as if I'm one of your many disposal boys? Fuck to the no you are never ever doing that to me again!"

With each word I stepped towards him, as I slammed my fists into his shoulders I was to pissed of. I was wet and cold, my stomach was empty as hell was.

"We had to make sure you wouldn't run. But you do not ever disrespect me in front of my men ever again! Know your fucking place!" He yelled back at me with equal force.

"This? This is how you fucking make sure I don't run? What happened to the good old fashion tracker you have planted somewhere in me? Where the fuck has your honour gone you piece of shit! And so what? What are you so afraid of? Is your little male ego hurt now? And for fucks sake they aren't your men. They are Ace's men!" I screamed back in his face.

He slowly walked towards me as I took steps back because if I stayed near him long enough I would have surely knocked his soul out. He punched the wall behind me as it left a slight dent.

"What fucking tracker are you talking about? And my honour? Beth, I'm a fucking drug lord, I killed multiple people, I have no honour, and my male ego is triple the size of Ace's if those men can see that a girl like you can disrespect me and have no repercussions what's stopping them from doing the same. The only reason your still alive is bec- never mind but get in fucking line."

His voice was low, his eyes were wild. I knew he was itching to shoot my brains out.

"The tracker you bitchass people put in me while I was unconscious. I seen it in every mafia movie I watched. Or the wattpad books I read, the big boss always puts a tracker in the girl to make sure she never runs." I whispered back, my anger simmering down as I realised how stupid I was sounding.

And I got my answer when he burst out laughing at me, while my cheeks glowed red at my embarrassment.

"This isn't a movie. I don't need a tracker to know where the fuck you are. Your loudass mouth does the job for me." I wanted to come up with a badbitch come back but I didn't know what to say. He was right at every given chance I would swear my head of as loudly as I could so all the members of this household can know what's happening.