He whimpers something unintelligible, but all I do is laugh. “I think the word you’re looking for isplease? Maybestop?” I taunt. “You stole her voice. Now you don’t get to fuckin’ scream either.”
A sharp and ugly gag gurgles from Marcus, like his body’s trying to cough up something that isn’t there. His hands twitch against the couch cushions, fingers curling and uncurling like he’s forgotten how they’re supposed to work.
I tilt my head, watching him with open fascination. “That’s the diaphragm starting to give out,” I inform him pleasantly. “Feels like choking without anything in your throat, right?”
His eyes bulge. A wet sound bubbles up, then dies.
Slumping sideways, Paulie barely holds himself upright, sweat pouring down his temple. His lips are blue at the edges. He looks fucking wrecked. I lean into the couch, spreading my arms across the back like I’m settling in for a show. “Jesus, you boys are disappointing. All that bravado earlier. All that big talk. And now look at you.” He shakes his head in an attempt at what I assume would be frantic, if he wasn’t barely conscious.
“P-please?—”
“There it is,” I croon. “That’s the word. Say it again. I wanna know if you actually mean it.” His mouth opens, but nothing comes out other than his tongue lolling uselessly. I toss my head back, a laugh erupting past my lips. “Oh, that’s just cruel,” I tease. “You finally find your manners and your body won’t cooperate.”
Marcus lets out a thin, broken sound—half sob, half breath. His head drops forward, chin hitting his chest, then rolls back as his eyes flutter.
“Stay with me,” I taunt him. “Don’t check out yet. You’re going to miss the best part.” I stand and pace slowly in front of them, boots quiet against the carpet, like a predator circling wounded prey. “You know what Ilove most about this?” I ask casually. “You’re alert enough to understand what’s happening and helpless enough to do fuck all about it.” Paulie’s chest stutters again.
“That panic you’re feeling”—I pause for dramatic effect—“that tight, crawling pressure in your ribs? That’s your body screaming for oxygen while your lungs sit there like useless sacks of meat.” I stop directly in front of him. “Breathe, Paulie.” Raising a mocking brow, I push him further. “Go on. Take a big one.” He tries but fails, and I grin wider.
Marcus’s head lolls toward me. His eyes barely focus. “We— We shouldn’t have?—”
“Too fucking late to apologize now,” I snap, venom coating every syllable. “That moment passed weeks ago.” Crouching slightly, I bring myself to their level, and my voice drops into something intimate yet obscene. “You thought you were untouchable. Thought money and friendships and silence would keep you safe.” I straighten again. “Turns out, you just picked the wrong woman.Mywoman.”
Paulie starts to convulse, not full seizures—just enough jerking to be disturbing. His feet scrape weakly against the floor.
“Ah! There it is. Loss of voluntary movement.” I glance at Marcus. “You’re next.”
He tries to speak, jaw trembling, but no words come.Pleading eyes roll back in Paulie’s head, glassy and unfocused, mouth slack. His chest rises once. Twice. Then stutters. I step closer, looming now, making damn sure they see me. “This is the part where you realize no one’s coming,” I tell them calmly. “No last-minute rescue. No second chance.” His chest gives one last weak heave. Then nothing.
The other fucker lets out a thin, keening sound. I lean in close, my voice vicious, meant only for him. “You get to die knowing she lives.” His eyes lock on mine—terror, fury, understanding, all tangled together. “Time to say goodbye,” I taunt.
Following in his friend’s footsteps, life drains from his face and silence floods the room. I straighten slowly, rolling my shoulders, adrenaline humming through my veins. Finally, I pull one more surprise out of my pocket and drop it on the table. “Rot in hell, boys.”
With that last statement, I turn on my heel and walk out, pulse humming. Not with adrenaline, but pure satisfaction. “Kade. You there?”
“Yeah.”
“Meet me by the bar.”
“Copy.”
The main floor is just as obscene as it was when I left it—money, bodies, indulgence, the illusion of power. I slip back into it like I belong there, as if I didn’t justwatch two men choke the life out of themselves a floor above.
Kade’s already waiting, drink in hand that he hasn’t touched. “Good job, brother. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
In silent agreement, we move together toward the exit. That’s when we almost collide with Bradley. He’s coming from the bar, crystal glass in his hand, eyes glassy with expectation. He barely glances at us as we pass, but I slow just enough to turn my head in his direction. Our eyes lock briefly, but there’s no way he recognizes me with my beard gone and the mask still firmly in place. “Have a good night,” I greet pleasantly, fully aware that I’m coming for him next.
A few minutes later, we’re back in the hotel room. Two laptop screens on the desk are open, showing the VIP suite exactly as I left it. Bradley comes into frame a minute later. He steps inside, humming under his breath. He doesn’t turn on the lights, just crosses the room, and heads toward the couches.
“Already passed out?” he grunts, amused. “Fuckin’ amateurs.” He sets his glass down on the side table, then halts. We see the exact second it hits him—the shift in his posture, the way his shoulders stiffen. His head tilts, eyes narrowing as he takes in the room. The bodies. The stillness.
“Paulie?” he calls out. Nothing. He steps closer, shaking his shoulder once before cursing under his breath and moving to the next corpse. “Marcus?” The lamp clicks on and the room floods with light. Bradley stumbles back like he’s been hit. His face drains of color, mouth opening, then snapping shut as panic claws up his throat. His eyes dart between them. “Holy shit.” He backs away, hand shaking as he scrubs it over his mouth. Then his gaze drops to the coffee table, to the little gift I left for him to find.
Bradley snatches it up, fingers trembling, and his eyes flick wildly around the room before he lowers his gaze to the card stock. The same one he placed on my bed the night of the wedding, only I’ve made some adjustments. I crossed everything out—everything except the final line.
Eeny meeny miney moe.
Cowboy let his starlet go.
