My Best Friend Was Tortured,But I'm the Goddess of Thunder

I was the Storm Goddess. A deity with rank and reputation in the Ninth Heaven. And I'd let my best friend suffer like this in the mortal world.

"Don't be scared. I'm taking you home."

I eased the tubes from her back as carefully as I could, then pressed sterile gauze hard against the wound.

I'd barely gathered her into my arms when a stampede of footsteps erupted outside the door.

"Nobody move!"

Harold Harding, the eldest son of the Harding family, stood in the doorway flanked by a small army of bodyguards in full tactical gear.

He wore a tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes cold and imperious behind the lenses.

The moment he saw me holding Amy, his brows knotted into a vicious scowl.

"Pansy Dunn? A thug from the underworld, and you have the nerve to break into my family's home?"

"Do you have any idea what you've done? One phone call. That's all it takes to wipe every last one of your father's operations off the map."

I let out a cold laugh and passed Amy to Brick, who stood right behind me.

"Brick, get Amy to the car. There's a first-aid kit inside."

Brick took two steps toward the exit, Amy cradled against his chest, but Harold's bodyguards closed ranks and blocked him.

Harold slid his hands into his pockets, voice dripping with arrogance. "Put her down. She belongs to the Harding family. If she dies, she dies here."

"Pansy, I don't care what kind of stunt you think you're pulling. Take your little gang of lowlifes and get the hell out."

Before I could respond, Lena, lying on the hospital bed, suddenly burst into pitiful sobs.

She threw off the covers, didn't even bother with shoes, and ran barefoot to Harold's side, clutching his arm.

"Harold, please don't blame Pansy. This is all my fault!"

"I shouldn't have gotten sick. I shouldn't have needed Amy's bone marrow. If Pansy insists on taking her, then just let me die!"

Tears streamed down her face like rain on pear blossoms, her body swaying as if she might collapse at any second.

Harold immediately wrapped a protective arm around her, his glare sharpening to a razor's edge as it swung back to me.

"You hear that, Pansy? Lena is this kind and selfless, and your precious best friend is that selfish! It's just a little bone marrow, and she goes running to the mob to cause a scene!"

Georgia found her voice too, jabbing a finger at my face and shrieking.

"Where is that ungrateful little wretch? We searched for her for twenty years! Fed her, clothed her! All we're asking is that she repay us for raising her, and she plays dead!"

"Nobody takes her out of here until we've gotten every last drop of marrow we need!"

I looked at this shameless family and laughed. The kind of laugh that comes when rage circles all the way back around.

"Repay you for raising her?"

I stepped forward and raised my hand.

Crack!

One sharp, ringing slap landed square on Lena's sanctimonious face.

I put everything I had into it.

Lena flew back a full six feet, slammed into the hospital bed, and crumpled. Her lip split on impact, blood pouring down her chin.

"Ahhh! My face!" She clutched her cheek and screamed.

Dead silence.

Harold's eyes went wide, as if he couldn't process that someone had just struck a blow on his turf.

"Pansy! You're dead!" He lunged at me with a roar.

I drove my foot straight into his kneecap.

A clean, wet snap of bone, and the mighty Harding heir dropped to his knees in front of me.

"You want to talk rules with me?" I grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched his head back, forcing him to look up at my face.

"Let me teach you how we do things in the underworld."

I backhanded him across the mouth. Half a tooth skittered across the floor.

"Nat! Anyone gets in the way, break their legs!"

"Yes, Boss!"

The Dunn crew drew their weapons in unison, eyes sharp and merciless.