𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐱 𝐎𝐂 |

005

Hearing the sound of shattering glass from a window in the other room, she jolted awake. Her eyes snapped open, only to squint against the blinding sunlight streaming in. Sometimes, the sun could be such a nuisance. With an irritated huff, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed before standing up.

She headed toward the bedroom door, moving quickly as she made her way to the source of the broken window.

"Who the fuck is gonna have to pay for that now?" she muttered, her raspy morning voice dripping with annoyance.

Her windows had been through hell, repaired more times than she could count. Yet, here they were again shattered.

As she walked into the living room, she frowned at the sight of the poor, battered window yet again broken. A baseball laying innocently on the floor, surrounded by a mess of glass shards.

"These little shits," she groaned, picking up the baseball. She walked over to the now pitiful, shattered window, glaring at the mess.

In her line of sight she could see a group of kids laughing to each other talking about how they were about to do it again.

Her brows furrowed as she spotted the kids winding up to hit another baseball toward another window. With a swift motion, she used her ability to fling the window open and caught the ball mid-air, just before it could do more damage to her house. "Just so you know, you're not getting your baseballs back!" she shouted at them, her voice sharp. Their eyes widened in panic before they cursed and bolted, disappearing down the street.

"They better pay for this fucking window." She sighed tiredly talking to no one in particular. Setting the baseballs on the closest table.

She strolled over to the TV remote, casually pressing the power button. The screen flickered on, and the news was already covering last night's murder—courtesy of yours truly. She wasn't particularly surprised, but hearing that the mother had returned home to discover the aftermath made her scowl morph into a wicked grin. "That's what you get for running off to play with your other boy toy," she muttered, amused by the thought of the woman's tears. It brought a twisted satisfaction, fueling her dark humor.

That may be a bitch move but she doesn't care.

Grabbing her keys, she stepped outside and made her way to the car. Oh, how she loved this machine. She and this beauty had been through countless ups and downs together, yet it still gleamed like it was fresh off the lot because, unlike most people, she knew how to take care of her vehicles. Sliding into the driver's seat, she turned the ignition, the engine purring to life, and pulled out of the driveway with a satisfied smile.

As she drove around she decided to turn up the radio when "it's my party" by Lesley Gore came on.

She continued driving until she reached the shopping center. Once she parked, she let the song finish playing before turning off the car. Exiting, she strolled into the shopping center, her eyes scanning the various shops for something that piqued her interest. Suddenly, she came to a halt as a display of weapons caught her eye in one of the stores.

As she stepped inside, her gaze was immediately drawn to a row of elegant bows hanging overhead. Beneath them, a glass case showcased an array of gleaming daggers, while a stunning assortment of unique swords lined the bottom shelf. And that was just one wall of the store—she could only imagine what else it had to offer.

Walking more around she found clothing pieces that held the weapons.

"Why have I never noticed this store before?" she muttered, glancing around in awe.

"Maybe because we just opened," a deep, raspy voice replied from behind her. Startled, she jumped slightly and turned to see the owner of the voice—a tall man with a well-built physique. Not that she was looking, of course.