But Ipersisted.
That was something he didn’t count on. He thought he could beat me, that I’d roll over and give up. It’s how he’s taken advantage of so many vulnerable women.
But I did not give up.
And here we are, finally, with him at my tarot table.
“It’s time to hear what the fates have to say about you,” I say as I grab my tarot deck and take a seat across from Phoenix. “Should we see if there’s any surprises?”
Still, Phoenix doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me with hatred and defeat.
I shuffle the cards. And one by one, they fall from the deck. Once I’ve drawn all three, I turn them over, laying them face up.
“Of course,” I say with a humorless smile. “The Star reversed. If there is a card that embodies you, it’s this one.” My eyes rise to meet his, and he just stares back at me with coldness. “This is the healer without healing. The lightworker who never had their own glow.” I lean forward, never once looking away. “Upright, the Star is hope. Guidance. Renewal. But like this? It’s lies dressed in candlelight. False purity. A man who sells salvation he doesn’t have.”
Phoenix wants to say something. He always has something to say. He always has something self-righteous and condescending on the tip of his tongue. But he holds it. He bottles it up and sits there like the man-about-to-die that he is.
I move on to the next card.
The Hierophant reversed.
I laugh. I can’t help it. The justice is too sweet tonight. “Oh, the cards really hate you tonight, and they’re holding nothing back.”
I hold it up, letting him see the inverted keys, the upside-down sanctity. “This is the teacher turned tyrant. The guru who uses spirituality as a leash. The priest who corrupts his own gospel.”
Phoenix’s jaw twitches. His mask of silence wants to break. But he still holds it.
“Last, the Ten of Swords,” I say, sliding the final card into place. “There is no rebirth here,” I say softly. “No second chances. No miracle.”
I place the card in front of him, aligning it with the others. “This is the card of final endings. Collapse. The moment truth wins and the monster doesn’t get back up.”
My eyes rise up from beneath my lashes to stare at Phoenix. “Hands on the table.”
Lucky steps forward, death and violence in his expression. He grabs Phoenix’s wrists and cuts through the rope with one swift sawing motion. Phoenix jumps, snarling as he pushes back in his chair. Lucky stands directly behind him, keeping him in place, pinned between the chair and the table.
“Hands on the table,” I repeat, lifting my chin as the panic begins rising in Phoenix’s eyes.
“Please,” he finally says, just one small, quiet, pathetic word as his expression starts crumpling into desperation. “Don’t.”
“I doubt that word ever stopped you,” I say as I lean forward, my own words dropping into a whisper. “Hands,” I smack the table, making Phoenix flinch. “On the fucking table, Phoenix Marrow.”
A noise between a groan and a cry comes out of his lips, his breathing doubling in speed. Lucky growls from behind him, and Phoenix gingerly lays his hands on the surface of the oak table, directly over the grooves.
I grin.
Finally.
Finally.
I’ve waited for this for so long, and it’s finally here. My heart rate spikes, adrenaline surges through my veins, and it’s damn near the best feeling in the world.
Beneath the table, my hands wrap around the grips of the daggers. Phoenix’s eyes widen in fear of the unknown. And awicked grin spreads on my lips as I pull the daggers free. I slam them home, piercing cleanly through his flesh and straight into the wood. There’s a very, very satisfying crunch sound as I break through one of the little bones in his hand.
I love it when that happens.
Phoenix screams—a raw, feral sound that echoes through the shop.
I don’t flinch. I’ve done this before. Iknowwhat monsters sound like when they realize they’re mortal. They scream and cry and snot pours from their noses as they unravel.
