CHAPTER 81: SHE COULDN’T CONTROL

Eleanor’s POV

I stared at his outstretched hand, a cold, unhinged laugh bubbling in my throat. "Are you stupid?" I asked, my voice dripping with a venom I didn’t know I possessed. "Oh, wait. A stupid person never realizes they’re stupid, do they? They just bumble through life, a waste of space and oxygen."

Ooh, getting better with the insults, Beatrice purred with dark approval. A little crude, but the sentiment is there.

Priscilla let out a delicate gasp, pressing a hand to her chest. "Eleanor, why are you acting like this? Why can’t you just admit you’re wrong so we can all go our separate ways? I never wanted to bring this to the public, I begged our parents, but they wouldn’t listen! I’ve even forgiven you for what you did at our wedding!"

"Forgiven me?" I repeated, my voice rising. "You mean because I avoided the bucket of filthy, stinking liquid you had your little minions rigged up to pour on me? How is your skin, by the way? I bet that disgusting scent hasn’t fully washed out yet. It clings, doesn’t it? Like the rot it is."

Dickson’s mask of patience finally cracked. "I should have told the media how you almost killed your sister! She is suffering from an incurable disease, and you stood by and let that filth touch her! So what if we were playing a harmless prank on you? It was our wedding! Our right! You should have protected your sister!"

I looked at them, these two people who had caused me so much pain, and I knew with absolute certainty what I had long suspected. The Moore family was not my family.

Dickson gave a sharp signal. Immediately, the doors of the other cars swung open, and bulky men in dark suits stepped out, forming a menacing half-circle behind him. My grip on the laptop turned white-knuckled.

"I just don’t understand," Dickson said, his voice a low sneer. "How did you even trick the Vexxons into making you a racer? Or is it because you have a death wish? You’re not one of them. You’re not a supernatural creature. Why are you going this far just for a little attention?"

"That’s where you’re wrong," I said, my voice low and steady.

Priscilla’s eyes widened with theatrical shock. "Are you... are you really saying you’re a supernatural creature? El, that’s... that’s just unbelievable. You need help."

"Enough of this acting," Dickson snapped. "Just hand over the laptop and any other copies. Now."

Mira, who had been silently holding her phone aloft, spoke up, her voice clear and cutting. "You can’t do anything. We’re live. The whole world is watching you right now."

Dickson’s face flushed with frustrated fury. He was trapped, and he knew it. He glared at me, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Fine," he spat. "Then we’ll do this your way. Let’s go ahead and show the world the kind of fraud you really are."

Mira’s confident expression suddenly faltered. She stared at her phone, tapping the screen frantically. "What the...?"

A slow, ugly smile spread across Dickson’s face. "What’s wrong? Are the signal jammers not doing their job?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Oh, wait. They are. So now that your little live stream is dead..." His gaze swung back to me. "I won’t hesitate to make you do what I say. So be a good girl and obey, unless you want this to go much, much further."

He nodded, and two of the bulky men moved forward. One grabbed Mira, who shouted and struggled, while the other seized my arms, his grip like iron. Dickson strode over and wrenched the laptop from my grasp.

"No one will ever believe you," he sneered, and with a violent swing, he smashed my laptop against the pavement. The plastic casing splintered, the screen shattering into a web of black and silver.

Priscilla, who had been watching with a sickening smile, sauntered closer. "I bet that wasn’t the only copy."

"Hand over any other evidence," Dickson demanded, his eyes glinting. "Or I’ll have these men strip you naked right here for everyone to see."

Rage, pure and incandescent, burned through my fear. "I won’t give you anything."

"Fine. You had your chance." Dickson turned to the men holding me. "Strip her. My wife and I will enjoy the spectacle." He even pulled out his phone, ready to record.

I fought against the men’s hands, panic clawing at my throat. But then I heard a series of pained grunts and thuds.

The man holding me suddenly let go, his grip vanishing as he cried out in agony. I spun around to see Mira, her eyes blazing.

She had the other man in a hold, his arm bent at a sickening angle. With a sharp, efficient movement, there was a loud crack. He screamed, collapsing to the ground. She then turned to the one who had been holding me, delivering a brutal kick to his knee that sent him down with a similar cry of pain.

In seconds, both men were on the ground, writhing. Mira stood over them, dusting her hands off as if she’d just taken out the trash.

Dickson was stammering, his phone forgotten in his hand, his face a mask of utter shock. "You... you weren’t ordinary after all," he breathed, staring at Mira.

Mira cracked her knuckles, a series of sharp pops that echoed in the sudden silence. A feral grin spread across her face. "It’s been a long time since I’ve had to use my strength like this. I’d be absolutely delighted to demonstrate it on you, Dickson."

Dickson stumbled back a step, his bravado crumbling. "You—you won’t do such a thing!"

Priscilla, still clinging to her facade of frailty, found her voice. "Even if you’re not human, do you really think you can fight all of them?" she shrilled, gesturing to the remaining men who were now cautiously closing in. "You’re outnumbered."

Her words seemed to snap Dickson back to reality. "She’s right," he said, his voice regaining some of its confidence. "So this is why Eleanor’s become so stupidly bold. Her friend isn’t human. But what makes you think that will protect you, Eleanor?"

I took a step forward, my own anger a cold, sharp blade. "Did you forget what happened that led to you being dragged out of my apartment in the first place?"

He flinched, the memory clearly still raw.

"Deal with her!" he barked at the remaining men, his finger pointing accusingly at me. "I want to see her in pain! I want her to suffer! She needs to be punished for what she’s done to me, and to my fragile wife!"

The circle of men tightened around us.

Now is the time, Beatrice snarled in my mind, her power surging like a tidal wave against my control. Let me out. Let me handle these insects.

No, I thought back, gritting my teeth as I fought her back. I couldn’t let what happened before happen again. Besides, these were humans. Beatrice wouldn’t hold back; she’d likely kill them.

That’s the entire point, she purred, her voice dripping with deadly intent. They deserve nothing less.

That is exactly why I won’t ever let you take over again.We hold the reins together, or not at all!

A fist was flying toward my face. I twisted, and the blow whistled past my cheek. I felt either it was slow, or its because my body felt stronger and lighter.

It’s both, Beatrice confirmed with a thrill. Now, aim for his neck!

I swung, my own fist connecting with the man’s face with a sickening crunch. He staggered back, clutching his broken nose. I didn’t have time to process it before a searing pain exploded in my side. I hadn’t been fast enough to dodge the second attacker.

I glanced at Mira. Her face was smeared with blood. Please, let it not be hers. But even with this strange new strength, there were too many of them. Heavy hands grabbed my arms and shoulders, forcing me down. My face was slammed into the rough pavement, stars exploding behind my eyes.

Through the haze of pain, I saw Mira take a hard hit to the stomach. She doubled over, coughing, and a spray of crimson hit the ground.

"Are you trying to kill us?" I shrieked, my voice raw.

Dickson swaggered forward. One of his men wrenched my head up by my hair, forcing me to look at him. "Even better," he sneered. "I’ll make you my personal slave. No one will even notice you’re gone. I’ll just tell the public you tried to kill me and got what you deserved. And your friend?" He gestured to a gasping Mira. "We’ll sell her. There are plenty of men who’d pay a fortune for a supernatural pet."

Black and absolute rage, consumed me.

It’s now or never, Beatrice roared, her voice merging with my fury. Do something about this son of a bitch!

"I hate that look on your face," Dickson spat. "Hit her again! I want to see despair!"

But I wasn’t feeling despair. I was feeling a killing intent so pure it was terrifying. All I could think was that this son of a bitch needed to die. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the life out of him.

And then, it happened.

The men holding me suddenly let go, their hands flying to their own necks. Gasping, choking sounds filled the air. All around me, Dickson’s men dropped to their knees, clawing at their throats. Dickson himself was on the ground, his face turning purple, his eyes bulging with terror.

A wave of dark satisfaction washed over me. Good. This was what they deserved.

But then I saw Mira.

She was on her hands and knees, one hand pressed to her injured side, the other at her throat, fighting for a breath that wouldn’t come. Her terrified eyes met mine.

No.

The satisfaction vanished, replaced by sheer, undiluted panic. I was hurting her. I was killing my best friend.

But I didn’t know how to stop it. The power had a life of its own, a vengeful storm I had unleashed but couldn’t control.