Hell's Angel (BK 1)

Angel

Dani's POV
(Nightwing27th)

It's the middle of the night. The rains refusing to let up as I lock the front door. The porch light flickers a few times before going out, leaving me in total darkness. I sigh as I flip my hood up on my head, making a mental note to fix it later. I pull the car keys out of my pocket, preparing to step out into the rain. The neighbor's porch light flips on as a woman storms out of the house.

She marches down the drive way to her car, a man close behind her. "How dare you," she said, turning on her heels to face him. I slowly slink back into the shadows. I'll just wait until their done. I'm not going to get caught up in their drama.

"It was never supposed to go this far," he tells her. I can barely make out the man's appearance. But the woman was facing me, the porch light lighting up her face. "What I'm offering you is more than necessary to...take care of things and then start a new life for yourself."

"'Take care of things'? What is the matter with you?" she asked, rage boiling in her eyes. "No! No, I will not 'take care of it'." The man sighed as he glanced around the neighborhood.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way." He moved too fast for her to react, jabbing his hand into her throat and then spinning her, cupping her mouth as he dragged her back inside. The door slammed shut and then the porch light turned off. My heart beat against my rib cage uncontrollably. What is going on? Did he really just...?

I take a deep breath and pull out my cell phone. I unlock the screen and then quickly start dialing 9-1-1. The phone beeps at me, claiming it's battery is too drained to make the call. I swore under my breath, shoving the phone back in my pocket. No one's coming to help that girl. No one even knows she needs help.

I glance around and then head across the grass to the front door. This is really stupid. I slowly place my hand on the door knob and then, ever so slightly, turn it. He left it unlocked. I gently push the door open and then step inside. Five feet away from me he stood over the top of her with a gun. She lies on the floor, blood pouring from her nose as she pleaded for her life.

And in the blink of an eye, all the panic I was feeling, vanished. I marched forward as she gasped at my presence in the room. The man turned, swinging the gun in my direction. I quickened my pace, covering the distance between us. My left hand latched onto his wrist as I pushed it up, forcing the gun into the air.

I curled my right hand into a fist a split second before it made contact with his throat. The impact caused him to pull the trigger. The bullet hit the ceiling, but the girl screamed anyway. I slipped the gun out of his right hand, as I put mine on the back of his head and grabbed a fist full of hair. I quickly brought my knee up as I brought his head down.

At that, he went limp and fell to the floor. I ejected the gun's clip, letting it fall to the floor. I turned to face the girl. She looked up at me, shocked, as tears still stained her face. "Do you have a land line?" She quickly nodded. "Good. Call the police. Then pack your things and leave town. Better yet, leave the state."

"Why?" she croaked.

"Because men like him don't give up just because you put them behind bars," I replied. "He'll come back for you and next time I might not be there to stop him." I rubbed my sweatshirt over the gun a few times, trying to wipe away my finger prints. Then I tossed it to the side and headed for the door.

"Wait!" she called out. I looked at her and she was standing now. "Who are you?" I realized my hood was still up, that she probably didn't see my face. I hear sirens in the distance. I turn without a word and run out the door.

Hell's Kitchen. 10 years later.