So I found them. One by one.
No trials. No statements. No mercy.
They begged. Lied about being sober. Swore it was an accident.
But I knew.
And I made sure they learned what it felt like to be powerless—to scream in the dark, to be forgotten.
Her death is the reason I became a killer.
Not for money. Not for sport.
For balance.
I blink it back and lock it down. Tonight isn’t about the past. It’s about Silas Rourke and the end he’s earned.
High-pitched laughter crackles behind me, sharp and sudden. Women—an entire table of them by the sound of it. Loud, loose, riding the high of expensive cocktails and wicked secrets.
Glasses clink and ice rattles. A bottle pops, and someone gasps.
It’s a laughter that turns heads. Bold, indulgent, reckless in the way only women are when they’re surrounded by their own kind. The pack makes it safe to be loud. To be seen. To be a little dangerous.
I ignore them. Or at least try to. But their voices carry, bleeding through the noise and slicing through the low hum of conversation. Too sharp, too bold. Blurred by liquor and lit with the thrill of something forbidden.
One voice, louder than the rest, cuts through the chatter. It’s bold and brash, drenched in alcohol and something feral.
“Okay, bitch, tell us everything. Did they fuck you stupid or what?”
They?
“No, no, no. Don’t tell me,” one of them says, half-laughing, half-horrified. “I don’t think I can stand hearing this.”
Laughter detonates around her, sharp and rowdy. Someone snorts. Another slaps the table in quick succession, a drumroll before the punchline.
“Girrrl, tell us they wrecked your pussy in the best way possible.”
They don’t stop there.
“Seriously, if you could walk straight the next day, I’m going to be so fucking disappointed.”
Another voice cuts in, lower, laughing but sharp. “Shh… Jesus, Brielle, keep your voice down. We’re not the only ones in here.”
“Calm down and give me a second. I’m gonna tell you everything you want to hear… and a lot of shit you don’t.”
“Oh, this is about to get good,” the loudest one says. “She doesn’t have a single prudish bone in her body, and we’re all about to benefit.”
I should be annoyed by the disturbance and theircomplete disregard for anyone else in the room… especially those of us whose dicks have seen more hand than pussy lately.
They draw attention like bait in the water, but I’m not irritated. I’m amused… and intrigued.
And now I want to hear about her night.
What she did.
Whattheydid to her.
And how loudly she screamed.
