In his preferred black gear, he looks like the majestic, dark prince he believes himself to be, but lacks the usual bored expression on his face. Today, he’s just a blank canvas, hoping no one can see past his facade and read the turmoil running through his wretched soul.
But I see you. Don’t I?
You can’t hide from me, Easton.
None of you can.
Right next to him, dressed to the nines, as if he’s just stepped out of his house for a Vogue photo shoot, stands the most vicious of the group—Colt Turner. I see, however, that instead of the relaxed swagger he’s known for, his spine is ramrod straight, and his shoulders are stiff as a board. His cocky grin—the one that always seems to make him look so regal as if he owned the fucking place—is wiped off his face, too.
Good.
That grin should have never crested his lips, to begin with. He might have had a silver spoon in his mouth since the day he was born, but at this moment he looks like he’s being force-fed something too bitter and rancid to swallow down. It’s making him twist and contort his face into something ugly, just like his damned soul.
Not looking so fucking royal now, are you, Colt?
What happened? Did your conscience finally get the best of you?
Do you even have one?
He’s standing there, trying so hard to hide his true self, but I know exactly what type of filth runs through his veins. Just like the rest of them, he’s a waste of space.
But you’re not even the worst of them, are you, Colt?
Nah. Not even by a long shot.
That place on the podium goes to his cousin, and Asheville’s golden boy—Lincoln Hamilton. He’s the real wolf in sheep’s clothing. He looks like a damned choir boy when, in reality, he’s just as hideous as we all are. Yet here he is, solemn and teary-eyed, as we all stand back and watch his parents being laid to rest. The fucker is the reason they are now worm food, yet he has the audacity to look torn.
But unlike the others, that isn’t a ploy, is it Lincoln?
He is torn up inside for what he’s done, for what he allowed to happen right inside his own home. Through whispers in the night and plans cunningly crafted in the shadows, he convinced himself and his fucking lackeys that no one would ever be the wiser of their crime.
And that makes you the most arrogant asshole of them all.
I know exactly what happened. He might think he can fool the whole world, but he’ll never fool me. He never has.
I know the real you, Lincoln. The dark and ugly part of you.
I know all his fears and aspirations. I know his secret desires and forbidden cravings. His Adonis looks and well-mannered, serpent tongue might deceive everyone he comes in contact with, but I never fell for his charms. And because of that, I’ll leave him for last.
You will be the one I will toy with the most. I’ll take pleasure in watching you squirm.
You stole something from me, and yet, you still want more.
But I won’t let that happen.
The day blood ran through his hands, he made himself vulnerable and weak. I’ll exploit that weakness to its fullest extent, making sure that my sweet vengeance is the only thing coming his way.
Do they honestly believe this is over? Do they really think that by burying the proof of their wrongdoings and their ruthlessness, no one will come after them?
You’re so fucking wrong.
You will all pay dearly for it.
I’ll make sure of it.
I’ll give them enough time to develop a false sense of security. Just enough to ensure they’ll never expect the threat lurking in the corner. Then I’m going to enjoy every flinch, every cringe, and all the times they’ll nervously watch over their shoulders, wondering if that’s when I’ll strike. I won’t just make their poor existence a nightmare, but I’ll make sure that everything they do from here on out will be for my own personal gain. Stack the cards in my favor for once.
Benjamin Franklin was right after all—three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.
If it were only Lincoln left standing, then maybe I would have shown mercy to the friends at his side. Maybe. But he dragged them into this mess, so I’m more than happy to hand out their punishment to each one of them individually.