Nemesis and Her Dark Prince
Cade
The Past - 3 months ago
Justice was supposed to be blind, but in my court, it was purely poetic.
If karma didn’t deliver fast enough, I liked to take matters into my own hands and bring it forth, making sure that the perpetrator walked away with the lesson entrenched deep in their bones.
Or didn’t walk away at all, in this case.
I busted Kian Wilson’s legs to a point where he would never walk again. The only way he was leaving this warehouse was in a body bag.
“Please, please, please,” he whimpered. “Just stop!”
Spending the last three years in the city’s underworld, I became immune to traitors’ tears and begging.
Kian’s face was a cracked map of blood, salt water, and mucous. His left eye was swollen shut, his voice had gone hoarse from all the screaming, and his weak body was shackled with chains hanging from the ceiling, his stance a pathetic genuflect before me.
As though I were the very God from whom he sought penance.
Unfortunately, there was no mercy in my court either.
Kian signed his death warrant the minute he stole from usand touched my girl.
And as the fixer, it was only fair that I teach him one final lesson before sending him off to Hell.
“What’s that, Kian?” I tapped the shell of my ear with a condescending expression. “I don’t think I heard you.”
Ella cackled, an evil laugh that incited my own malicious smile.
I loved when we were like this—relentless and vicious until we reached our end goal.
She was my Nemesis for tonight, holding scales of justice that slowly rebalanced as we settled the score, and I, her favourite dark prince, reigning over our dominion.
“I’m sorry! Please!” he cried like a beggar down on his luck. “Let me go! I’ll do anything!”
“Louder, Kian.”
He kept alternating between pleas and apologies.
The sound was grating, but slightly entertaining. Though if Kian thought there was an option where he walked out of here alive, I wasn’t doing my job properly.
Well…If you observed the white canvas I laid out on the floor, decorated with splashes of his blood in a symphony of violence and vengeance, I might just give Picasso a run for his money.
Just kidding. But Uncle Vance would be proud of my work. Enough to maybe display this canvas in one of his art galleries for the next showing.
Too bad Kian wouldn’t be alive to see it. He was a few blows away from having his light snuffed out permanently.
“Do you think I should spare him, princess?” I asked the love of my life.
Ella circled Kian like he was a sculpture at an auction and she debated placing a bid. A sensual, dark aura accompanied every roll of her hips as she tapped her lips in thought. “Hm. Very good question.”
My smile stretched to a grin. Dropping my baseball bat, I assessed the small table to my right, housing a plethora of torture tools. Usually a gun did the trick, but I was feeling fancy tonight. I picked up a butcher knife and juggled it between my gloved fingertips. “What’s the verdict, Ximena?”
She skipped over to me, wrapping her arms around my torso from behind, while resting her cheek against my shoulder. The front of my white T-shirt was coated in Kian’s blood, yet Ella stared at me with stars in her eyes.
Like I wasn’t the villain, but the knight in shining armour in her story.
