Bad guy (REWRITTEN)

Chapter 21

A/n: Billie is a bad bitch in this chapter

                            Anna

Baby.

Billie's voice sliced through the fog of sleep, low and urgent, her hand shaking my shoulder with enough force to rattle my teeth.

I groaned, rolling onto my stomach, burying my face deeper into the pillow. The sheets smelled like her cologne, smoke, and the faint metallic tang of adrenaline she always carried lately. I wanted more of that darkness, not whatever bullshit was happening at five-something in the morning.

"Baby! Wake the fuck up!"

This time her palm cracked against my ass through the blanket—sharp, stinging, impossible to ignore. I jerked upright, heart slamming, rubbing the back of my head as I squinted at the digital clock on the nightstand: 5:47 a.m. The city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was still black, only the distant glow of streetlights bleeding in.

"Billie, why the—"

Her hand clamped over my mouth, hard. Her eyes were wide, alert, the green almost swallowed by pupil in the dim light. She pressed one finger to her own lips: quiet.

I froze. Confusion twisted into something colder when I registered the muffled voices leaking under the bedroom door—male, low, arguing in clipped whispers.

"Get dressed" she hissed, barely audible. "No sound"

She released me and yanked open the nightstand drawer. The matte black pistol came out smooth, already in her grip like an extension of her hand. My stomach dropped.

I didn't argue. Clothes were scattered across the polished hardwood from last night—jeans, shirt, hoodie. I snatched them up, pulling them on with shaking fingers, every zipper and button feeling obscenely loud in the silence. Billie pressed herself flat against the wall beside the door, ear tilted toward it, gun held low and ready.

I finished dressing and crept to her side. "What the hell is going on?" I breathed.

"Later" She didn't look at me. "Hide in the closet. No matter what you hear—do not come out"

Her hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. The seriousness in her eyes made my throat close. It felt like goodbye.

"You're scaring me, Bil. What the fu—"

"No time, Anna" Firm. Final. She pushed me gently but insistently toward the walk-in closet. "Trust me"

I backed inside, sank to the floor, pulled my knees to my chest. She leaned in one last time—lips crashing against mine in a bruising, desperate kiss that tasted like fear and promise. Then she pulled away, offered the ghost of a smile, and shut the door.

Darkness swallowed me. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, louder than anything else. I pressed my palm to my mouth to muffle my breathing.

Voices filtered through the wood—closer now.

"Do you think she's in there?"

"He said she's home. Alone"

"You go first"

"Why the fuck me?"

"You're the one who swore you'd beat her ass after what she did to Gerald. Prove it"

A beat of silence. Then the front door creaked slow, deliberate.

Footsteps. Heavy boots on hardwood. They were in the living room. Moving toward us.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself invisible.

The bedroom door exploded inward with a splintering crack. Two shadows filled the frame.

Billie moved like liquid smoke.

The first guy lunged big, tattooed arms swinging for her. She sidestepped, fluid, drove her elbow into his throat. He choked, staggering. She didn't hesitate grabbed his wrist, twisted until something popped, then slammed her knee into his gut so hard he folded like paper. He hit the floor wheezing.

The second one was smarteror dumber. He pulled a knife, blade glinting in the low light from the hallway. Billie's pistol was already up.

"Drop i" she said, voice calm. Terrifyingly calm.

He hesitated. Bad move.

She closed the distance in two strides, caught his knife arm mid-swing, wrenched it behind his back until he yelped. The blade clattered. She swept his legs clean, practiced and he went down hard on his back. Before he could scramble up, her boot planted on his chest, pinning him. Gun barrel pressed to his forehead.

"Last chance" she said. "Walk out now, or I paint this room with what's left of you"

The first guy was still coughing, trying to crawl. Billie kicked his hand away from where it reached for something at his belt. He froze.

"You think this is about Gerald who fucked my car?" she continued, pressing harder with her foot. The guy beneath her wheezed. "Four months ago I gave him a beating he deserved. You idiots come here thinking you can collect? For what coke he's too scared to ask for himself?"

The pinned guy's eyes darted to his friend, then back to the gun.

"We—we were just—"

"Shut up" She leaned down, voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Tell him if he wants it, he comes himself. Next time any of you step foot in my place, I won't threaten. I'll bury what's left"

She stepped back. The pressure lifted. Both men scrambled up slow, hurting, eyes wide with the kind of fear that sticks.

"Out" she said.

They didn't need telling twice. They stumbled through the shattered door, disappearing down the hall. I heard the front door slam, then nothing but ringing silence.

Billie stood there a moment, chest rising and falling, gun still in her hand. Then she turned toward the closet.

I pushed the door open before she could reach it. Stepped out on unsteady legs.

Her face twisted—anger flashing hot. "Anna, I told you to stay—"

"I heard it stop" I cut in, voice shaking. "I had to know you were okay"

She crossed the room in three strides, grabbed my shoulders—not gentle. "What if one of them had a gun pointed at the door? What if they'd turned around? You think I want to watch you bleed out because you couldn't follow one fucking instruction?"

I flinched. The dead weight of her words hit harder than any slap.

"Jesus, im fucking sorry" I whispered. It felt small. Useless.

Her grip softened. She exhaled, rough, like the fight was draining out of her. Pulled me against her chest, arms wrapping tight. I could feel her heart hammering fast, alive.

"I'm sorry for yelling," she murmured into my hair. "I was... scared. For you."

We stood like that until the adrenaline ebbed, leaving us both trembling.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, thumb tracing my jaw. "We're leaving. Now. Pack light. We'll figure out the rest somewhere else"