I lean close, whispering, “For every woman who trusted you. For every time you took advantage. For all the false promises you made. For every body buried in the desert. For every ounce of god you pretended to be. For Jules.”
He’s trembling now, blood pouring onto the table. He doesn’t react to Jules’s name, I’m sure he doesn’t even remember her. “Fuck! You… you’re no better than me!”
I meet his eyes. “Except none of my victims have been innocent. I might be a monster; something about my moral compass might be crooked. But every man daggered to my table has been deserving.Youare no different.”
I reach for the plastic bag.
He tries to pull back, his eyes growing wide as he studies the bag. I hope he remembers the day in the parking garage. I hope he realizes how close he was to dying then.
“No, please!” he shrieks as he loses every last shred of dignity. “I… I won’t! You’re right. I shouldn’t have done what I did! I’ll stop. I’ll close the clinic, delete my accounts!” There are rough, wet sounds as Phoenix tries to rip free of my daggers, but he only shreds himself, which makes him scream more.
“You’re right,” I say as Lucky steps out of the way and I step in place behind Phoenix. “You won’t touch anyone ever again.”
I yank the bag over Phoenix’s head.
He thrashes. They always do. I tighten my grip as I cinch it around his neck. I widen my stance just a little. He sucks in a breath, only to be met with plastic. He throws his head back, trying to reverse headbutt me in the chest, but I anticipate it and shove his head forward, never losing the seal around his neck.
I close my eyes. And in the stillness, I see her—the girl who came to me for a reading once, bright-eyed, laughing about a boy who made her feel like the sun. The one who would go out for coffee with me, even in the middle of the night. The one who always did reckless things that were harmless. The one who would watch all the scary movies with me.
Jules. The one who got sick way too young. The one who tried so many options, only for them all to fail her. And then she trusted Phoenix. And he took and took until he took everything.
Jules. Who was desperate, and this man knew it.
Phoenix jerks, his shoulders heaving as he tries and tries to get air. He yanks against the daggers, slicing his hands but never breaking free.
His movements slow. Again and again he tries to suck in a breath, but he is denied every time. His shoulders sag. He twitches one last time. I feel it as he begins to slacken. I tighten my grip in preparation.
And finally,finally, Phoenix goes limp.
I wait an extra minute. I always do. Just to be sure.
Ten seconds. He doesn’t move.
Thirty seconds. He doesn’t try for breath.
Forty seconds. He’s quiet.
At sixty seconds, I release the bag, and he slumps into the table.
The silence that follows is heavier than anything I’ve ever felt. Justice always tastes sweet, but this one is a little different. All those other kills, aside from Porter, were to get justice forother women. But this one tried to kill me, too. He didn’t just hurt Jules. He put his hands on me. He poisoned me.
And now he’s dead. At my hands.
Finally.
I feel Lucky’s hand reach for mine. He squeezes gently, a firm presence, letting me know he’s here, that he’s got me.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I stare at Phoenix’s still body. “He thought he was untouchable. They always do.”
He doesn’t answer. He just lets me speak, lets me unspool what’s left of me into the quiet.
“There will always be more,” I say. “Men like him. Ones who think their power gives them permission to touch whoever they want. “But I’m ready. I don’t know what’s broken in me, Lucky. Because there’s a part of me that loves this. That’s thirsty for it. So, it’s fucked up that there’s an endless supply of men like Phoenix. But I’m also always thirsty.”
Lucky bends, presses his forehead to mine. “You’re terrifying.”
“And you love it.”
