Lethally Tender

LAURA'S POV:

Look... I didn’t plan to punch a grown man through a windshield before breakfast.

But in my defense, he was holding an AK-47, someone had already been shot, and the bus was starting to smell like panic and engine grease.

The morning had started fine. Sky clear. Money in my account (barely). Hair behaving. Tea bottle in my hand, and my favorite playlist screaming in my ears like it owed me rent. I was headed to an interview I absolutely wasn’t qualified for... Freeman Technologies, the crown jewel of tech overlords. They want perfect GPAs, elite degrees, and probably some blood sacrifice. I had none of that. Just freakish strength, a knockoff blazer, and an invitation I may or may not have finessed from their internal job board.

The only thing that was supposed to crash today was my confidence... then the bus slowed down... then someone screamed... then I smelled the kind of fear that sinks into your skin and makes your bones whisper not again.

I pulled my earbuds out. Chaos. Up ahead, in the middle of the road, two men in ski masks were dragging a woman by her ponytail. A third was on top of a car hood like it was a dance floor, waving a rifle around like it came with a microphone. The fourth? Already inside another bus, slamming someone into the window.

The air got heavy. The driver panicked. Someone dropped their phone and didn’t even try to pick it up.

Me? I just sat there. Seat 13. Clutching my tote bag like it could stop bullets. My palms sweating so bad I could hear them.

Breathe, Laura. You promised. No chaos. No powers. No headlines. Just make it to the interview like a normal girl with poor impulse control.

And then I saw the kid. Standing beside her father, maybe six years old, watching the whole thing like it was happening inside a horror movie and she forgot it wasn’t fiction. Then a shot rang out. And the man dropped. The girl screamed.

Something in me... snapped. I hate that part. I hate the moment when I feel the line break. Because I know what happens next. And no matter how gentle I try to be, it always ends messy.

I stood up. The bus creaked. Someone tried to stop me. “Don’t go out there,” they whispered, terrified.

I smiled. “Too late.”

I stepped off. Dust hit my face. My heels immediately sank into the gravel, which felt symbolic.

The guy on the car hood spotted me first. He laughed. “She serious?”

The others looked. Four men. Two knives. Two guns. One smirked like he was the main character.

He wasn’t.

I took a breath. “Hey!” I called, walking forward like I’d lost my mind or maybe just found a better use for it.

One pointed his gun at me. I walked faster. He cocked it. Still walking. He barked something at me... probably rude, probably loud, definitely a mistake.

I stopped three feet away. Looked him in the eye.

“Can I ask a question?”

He blinked.

“What’s the average PSI needed to dislocate your jaw?”

And then I hit him. Not hard. Just... enough. He flew backward into a parked SUV. The impact shattered the windshield and half the hood. Somewhere behind me, someone gasped like they just saw Jesus take the wheel.

Another guy fired. I ducked. Grabbed a piece of busted concrete from the sidewalk. Spun once, twice, and hurled it like I was born in a demolition derby.

It hit gunman #2 square in the chest. He folded. Launched backward. Took out a newspaper stand and someone’s sandwich.

The others ran. Smart boys.

I stood there, heart racing. Knuckles buzzing. People still screaming, but quieter now. I looked down at my hands. Shook them out. My heels were destroyed. My bag was scuffed.

But the kid was safe. And that was the only part that mattered.

Then I noticed the car. Parked near the edge of the mess. All black. Bulletproof glass. Quiet engine still running.

Inside? A man. Watching.

Steve. Freaking. Freeman. CEO. Tech overlord. Richer than gravity. Smugger than sin.

And he saw everything.

Our eyes locked. His window rolled halfway down. He didn’t look shocked. Just… intrigued. Like I’d ruined his morning in the most interesting way possible.

I smiled. Half-shy. Half-oh-crap.

Then something exploded behind his car. Another vehicle skidded sideways. Smoke burst out from under the hood. New attackers. Not thieves... mercs. Tactical gear. Precision aim. Real money behind them.

The SUV got hit. Hard. It spun. Crashed into the divider. And caught fire.

People screamed again.

But I didn’t move. Because through the smoke, I saw Steve’s door jammed shut. And I heard him shout. And I knew... if I stood there doing nothing, he’d die.

I kicked off the ruined heels. Flexed my fingers. And muttered, “Okay, Laura. Just this one last time. Try not to rip open the pavement again.”

Then I ran straight into the fire.