I stand in Kashton’s bathroom painting my lips with Rouge Louboutin. Stepping back, I look over myself. I’m treating tonight as if I’m going to my rage room. Fuck, I miss destroying shit.
It had become my therapy. Then I replaced it with sex, but Kashton still hasn’t fucked me. I get it. Devin hasn’t cleared me, and he’s afraid of hurting me. After seeing my identical twin dead in a casket, I realized exactly how hard it must have been for him.
But tonight, I get to be me. The girl who had no voice, no choice, no will to live. I take that back tonight.
Evan is the last person to stand in our way. No more shadows, no more nightmares, no more looking over our shoulders.
We get to move on with our life. Enjoy our marriage. Fight like cats and dogs about stupid shit and fuck like we hate one another, knowing damn well we love each other.
I have my hair off my face, pulled up into a high ponytail. I didn’t want itto get in the way. I’ve got a black corset on that Charlotte had to cinch up for me since I couldn’t do it myself. It’s a halter, so I don’t have to worry about my boobs falling out. My pants are high-waisted black leather that lace up the sides. And I topped it off with my platform boots.
I’m going to be getting bloody, so I went with all black. I walk through the bedroom and out the door. Getting in the elevator, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“That’s a good dolly.”
It doesn’t matter what I do to Evan. I’ll always hear his voice and see his face. But this will help. I’ve told myself for years that I had healed—moved on. I was only lying to myself. The fact that I self-medicated with alcohol was the first sign.
The elevator dings, and I open my eyes to step out into the basement. For once the coldness doesn’t bother me.
Voices come to a stop when I push through the plastic curtains. Kashton turns to look at me and smiles. “Hello, angel.” He walks over to me and cups my face. I can see the hesitation in his eyes that he’s trying to hide. He’s nervous for me. “You ready?”
“Yes.” Every victim at Dollhouse deserves to do this. Make them pay for what they did to all the innocents.
“I brought your boxes down. They’re on the counter.” He nods over to the wall.
“Thank you,” I say, and he gives me a soft kiss on the forehead.
“Bring him in,” he calls out.
I walk over to the counter, and Sin leans up against it. He smiles at me while holding out his pocketknife. I thank him and slice open the boxes.
“Where do you want him, Eve?” Ryat asks.
“I’ll start with him on his knees. Hands cuffed behind his back,” I respond with a smile.
The sound of Evan struggling fills the room, and I don’t have to turn around to know he’s gagged. I’ll be removing that. The bastard will scream for me.
Grabbing what I want, I place it all out on a tray.
“You know…” Sin looks at what I’ve laid out. “I’m kind of an expert at piercing.” His eyes meet mine and he shrugs. “Just in case you want some help.”
I give a soft laugh and turn to face the room. Everyone is here. I wanted an audience. Evan allowed hundreds, possibly thousands to watch me get tortured on a live feed. They fucking paid to watch me beg for death.
So the more the merrier is my motto tonight. Slipping the black gloves over my hands, I grab what I want off the tray and stand in front of Evan. His narrow eyes glare up at me from his knees and I smile. My heart is racing but it’s with excitement.
Evan starts to struggle, and I look up at Sin. I could use a little help for this part. “Can you hold his head?”
“Of course.” He practically skips to stand behind Evan and wraps his arm around Evan’s neck from behind, forcing his head back. “Good enough?” he asks.
“Good enough,” I agree.
Then I place the clamp on his nose, and he flinches. I shove the needle through his septum, having to force it. I feel a pop, and Evan closes his eyes tightly. “That was harder than it looks,” I say. “But then again, I’m no expert. What do you think?”
Sin looks down at Evan’s bleeding nose and smiles. “Looks good to me.”
I remove the clamp and thread the piercing through the hole I just made. Stepping back, I turn to look at my husband. He’s leaning up against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest. His pretty blue eyes appear sad, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. He knows what I’m doing.
“Will you string him up for me?” I ask.
