“It’s January 12th, Aubrey.”
It doesn’t take long for the significance of the date to sink in. With it comes startling clarity and the jarring realization that he really is going to die. All the bravado he’s displayed leaves him. His shoulders drop, and the fear reappears. This time it sticks, refusing to leave even when he shakes his head to try to dislodge it. I relish every second, loving the way it makes him compliant enough to write the suicide note I dictate to him from across the room without argument, reveling in the way it leaks out of every part of him when the note is done and I slide the framed picture of AJ he’s kept on his desk for years into his field of vision.
“Selene.”
He’s shaking. Splotches of red interrupting the ghostly white of his complexion. I’m standing before him, the gun he’ll use to kill himself in my gloved hand.
“Is this the part where you beg?”
He blinks back tears. “If you put that gun in my hand, I’ll turn it on you.”
My smile is so wide it hurts. “You won’t do that.”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”
Beck holds up Aubrey’s phone, displaying the time and a slew of notifications. There are missed calls from Phineas, Cordelia and Langham as well as a breaking news banner from the Times that reads: CONFESSIONS OF A CORRUPT PRESIDENT.
“The article was published two minutes ago,” I explain. “They haven’t had time to go through all the files, so I’m sure it just says it’s a developing story with more details to come soon. But your friends know what the details are, Aubrey, and they think you’ve sold them out.”
His phone vibrates, and Beck laughs at the text. “Phineas says you’re a dead man.”
Aubrey’s features are stricken. Every muscle frozen in terror as he considers what we’ve done to him.
“Do you think he’ll do the job personally?” Cal asks, speaking to no one in particular.
Beck shrugs. “Maybe he’ll send Langham.”
“That’s more likely,” I say. “Aubrey, do you think he has any more of that potassium cyanide?”
He doesn’t reply. I don’t think he can. He’s too busy crying, snot dripping down his nose, mixing with tears he couldn’t muster for our son but of course, has in abundance for himself. Satisfied, I sit the revolver in front of him and place his phone that’s still vibrating next to it.
“I thought I would have more to say when this moment finally came,” I tell him. “But I’ve wasted so much time and energy on you in this lifetime that all there’s left to say is goodbye, and you’re not even worth that.”
More tears fall, as he reaches for the gun, and suddenly, everything is moving fast. Cal grabs me around the waist, backing out of the room while Beck covers us, his gun trained on Aubrey as if he’s a threat to anyone other than himself.
I know that he isn’t.
I saw it in his eyes when his fingers wrapped around the handle of the revolver.
Defeat.
Acceptance.
Resolve.
That’s why I’m not surprised to see the barrel of the gun in his mouth when Cal stops in the hallway and I can finally turn around. Why I don’t flinch when he squeezes the trigger and there’s a bright red flash of blood and brain matter across the back wall. Why I don’t feel anything but triumph when his body goes limp.
I let out a sigh, tears gathering in my eyes as I realize I’ve finally had it.
A drink from the goblet of revenge.
A glorious mouthful of justice.
A taste of sin.
EPILOGUE 1: SELENE
“Thanks for agreeing to come in, Selene.”
