But it’s just a smokescreen, one I can see right through. Just as I can see through all of their wretched souls.
The only one who still looks like he has it together is fucking Lincoln. I suck in my teeth as I watch him console his friends, offering hope when there is none. He’s the beacon of light in their infested, grimy, black hole, and I, for one, cannot wait to extinguish it once and for all.
But not yet.
If I want to make him bleed, break his spirit as he broke mine, I have to be patient. Asheville’s golden boy will get his turn soon enough.
Your time will come, Linc. I promise you that.
I need to hurt everyone that he loves, and make sure their pain keeps him up at night, consuming him with guilt and shame. His friends are his weakness, and therefore, mine to exploit. By the time I finally come for him, Lincoln will have very little hope to hold onto, much less offer to anyone else. I’ll reveal his true colors to everyone who looked at him as the second coming and the pride of the Richfield name.
He’s not. He’s the blemish that ruined such an iconic legacy, the last one standing when he should have been the first to fall. I’ll make sure to rectify fate’s macabre plan into something of my doing, something of my liking. Saving the best for last has never tasted so sweeter.
My eyes fall once again onto the twisted group and take joy in seeing them cringe in despair.
They are all running scared.
Good.
Let them be worried. What I have destroyed in Finn’s life is just a little taste of what they have coming.
As I watch the fucking Southie take center stage, giving her own opinion in their little get together, my jaw locks in place. I can’t help but feel the pinch of disappointment that my carefully thought out plans didn’t play out as well as I’d expected. It never crossed my mind the Southie slut would have gotten her claws into Finn the way she did. I knew he was a gullible idiot, but I always assumed he had some sense.
Guess not.
Finn is more of a fool than I gave him credit for, considering his intention of keeping that skank at his side. Oh well. It suits me just fine. She’s nothing but Southside trailer trash, and she will never be accepted as anything more. Let’s see Hank Walker trying to spin this shit into gold to save face. As I see it, Finn carrying on with Stone Bennett will just make his life harder, and until I put them all out of their wretched misery, his hardship is well-deserved. Judging by his erratic troubled state, I know he’s just one push away from unraveling completely.
I bite into my inner cheek, hard and unyielding, to keep the bubbling laughter of victory confined within me. It’s still early on in my grand plan, and as much as their visible desolation pleases me, there is still plenty more in store for them. Only after I have demolished every dream they’ve ever had, have every hope and want eliminated, and their lives and reputations ruined beyond repair, will I allow myself to bask in my triumph. Until then, there is work to be done.
One down.
Three to go.
I open the glove compartment, and as I retrieve one of the many black envelopes destined for the sham of a dark prince, an instant noxious thrill races through my veins. Gripping the rich, rectangular stationery in my hand, my eyes find the next target—Easton Price. He’ll be my next little plaything to toy with in my merciless game of revenge and retribution. It pleases me how easy it will be to destroy him.
Easton is nothing but a big mama’s boy with daddy issues, so it can’t get any easier than that. I’ll go for his heart, using his insecurities against him. Before he knows what hit him, I’ll steal the life he so imprudently spits on now. I’ll take it all away from him, leaving him grasping at straws, disgraced and humiliated. I’ll make it my mission to return the dark prince from where he should have never left—in the gutter, penniless, and without worth of any kind.
But like Finn, I’ll first have Easton take care of another pesky nuisance of mine. Killing two birds with one stone, so to speak. I have just the person in mind who will make sure Easton loses his. I’ll tug at his heartstrings, make them shrivel to ash, ensuring he truly becomes the black soul he proclaims himself to be.
I’ll leave him with nothing.
No life. No future. No heart.
He will rue the day he and his friends tried to do the same to me.
Ready or not, Easton, your time has come.
To be continued in
Hear No Evil.