Taking my phone from my back pocket, I dial Zeke’s number. He picks it up on the third ring. “When is the hearing?”
There is a long pause, and then he says, “They offered her a deal. She signed it.” The curtains fly in different directions as I step inside from the balcony to the room, pressing the phone tightly to my ear while the information soaks into my brain.
No fucking way!
“She got what?” I ask, barely stopping myself from breaking the phone in my hand, and I don’t hear him correct me.
Instead, there is a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Zachary, I don’t know how, but the DA granted her the deal. She will be in custody for ten to fifteen years, but my guess is around eight. Usually, that’s when they start to appeal for earlier parole.”
The beast roars inside me, needing blood-filled vengeance and getting nothing.
The murderer of my Angelica will get only a few years behind bars… and then what? Will she have the ability to live happily ever after? Like what she did doesn’t matter and can be forgotten?
Is he out of his fucking mind?
“I hired you, because you are the best.” My voice turns stone-cold and detached, as I flick a lighter in my hand. “I see the error of my ways now.”
“Zachary, there is not much we can do in this situation. Besides, this whole case seems really strange to me, but you don’t want to see—”
I have no time for his excuses or bullshit. If people can’t deliver the best to me, they are not worthy of my time or money.
“If you can’t ask for an appropriate punishment, I will.” As always, I shouldn’t have relied on the judicial system this much; some things a man just has to handle on his own.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I don’t answer, and he changes his tone from exasperated to concerned. “Don’t do anything you will regret later, Zach.”
Regret? Never.
Phoenix Hale killed the woman I love, my wife, my only salvation in this dark world.
My best friend.
No price she can pay will be enough for me. I won’t rest until she bleeds to death on the floor of the prison, begging for forgiveness, and even then, I won’t grant it to her.
From now on, her life will be a living hell, a never-ending nightmare that will make her regret ever crossing my path.
I’m Zachary King.
And what Zachary King wants, he gets.
Chapter Three
“There is a saying that hell is not some mythical place below, but instead, hell is on earth, as people are punished for the primary sin.
The devil lives among us all.
I never believed it… until I crossed paths with the wrong man.
If the devil has a human form on this earth… it’s Zachary King.”
Phoenix
Phoenix
The heavy footsteps echo in the hallway as we walk through it, my hands full of the things given to me by the federal prison. The guard breathes heavily behind me, with each huff of her breath indicating how much she hates me.
According to her, such creatures as me, who kill people in a car accident and then act like they’re innocent, deserve nothing but suffering, and even prison isn’t enough.
Apparently, death row is the most appropriate place for us, so we won’t commit shit like that once we are out.
She managed to spit on my face before anyone saw it, and by the glint in her eyes, I knew to keep my mouth shut or risk getting into even bigger trouble.
Besides, it’s nothing new.
In the last six months, I had tomatoes, bananas, eggs, and sometimes even stones thrown at me with loud screams of how well I sleep at night after what I’ve done.
In today’s society, you don’t need to do much to earn their hate, then if you kill a beloved woman and the news spreads all over the world…?
That woman being the famous ex-model who participated in various charities and helped found organizations to help sick kids?
You are forever done for.
And who cared about people if Sebastian stood right along with the Kings during the hearing, paying me no attention, but whenever his crystal-blue eyes landed on me, they’d be full of disgust that hit me so hard I sometimes forgot how to breathe.
In this whole world, he was my only family and my salvation in the dark, a man who promised to fill all the voids created by my parents who left me on the doorstep of a church with a letter of apology. They couldn’t handle having a child.
Ironically, this very man proved to me that blood is thicker than water, and at the end of the day… your friends, husband, and colleagues will side with society, leaving me to rot in this hell alone.
Maybe if I had a family, everything would be different, but life has taught me that what ifs bring nothing but pain.
I’m so deep in my thoughts I don’t notice the door right in front of me and bump my head on it, then step back to rub my forehead.
The guard behind me snickers, pushing me to the side, and I stumble a little while she takes out her keys, their ringing sound grating on my nerves, and inserts it inside the lock, informing me, “Life here won’t be a fairy tale, Phoenix. Not to mention, you got the room with the most dangerous criminals here.” I stay silent, averting my gaze and willing myself not to listen to her or allow fear to sink into my bones at the prospect of facing all these people. “Keep your eyes wide open.” With this, she opens the door and roughly pushes me inside, the uniform in my hands almost slipping through my fingers, but then I stand straight when I see three women staring at me, each of them wearing the same orange uniform.
I almost face-palm myself, because what else are they supposed to wear?
“You have a newcomer, ladies. Enjoy.” She shuts the door, the metallic click of the lock cementing my stay here. I quickly assess the people around me, knowing that every detail matters.
Like finding the leader of the pack who has the power to either make you or break you.
One of them is blonde, her hair barely reaching the tips of her ears while various tattoos cover her neck and arms. She is taller than me by probably two inches, and her cold, brown eyes scan me from head to toe before she glances in the direction of the older woman sitting on the bed, her dark hair made in a thick braid. The older woman has tan skin with several large veins on her neck, and the same number of tattoos grace her skin. By how her chest rises and falls rapidly though, I think she is short of breath. When was the last time she had her heart checked?
Stop it.
I hate how my doctor instincts awaken whenever I see someone in need of medical help. It’s hard to tune out something that has been a constant in your life for the last ten years, ever since I joined med school at the age of nineteen due to being way smarter than the average kid.
She must be the leader though; it’d explain the challenge in her eyes, almost daring me to screw up so she’ll have an opportunity to showcase her dominance.
“Name,” she says, but it sounds more like an order.
I lick my lips, tightening my grip on the clothes. “Phoenix Hale.”
The older woman clicks her fingers several times before addressing the third woman who stands next to her, her bold hair and pale skin covered in piercings and tattoos, yet her violet eyes stay unreadable. “Remind me, Haley, what do we know about this name?”