Chapter 8 - CORNERED RATS
The St. Regis was a madhouse of wailing sirens and screaming socialites, but outside, in the bitter chill of the alleyway, the world was deadly quiet.
Trevor ran.
He ran until his lungs burned, his polished dress shoes slipping on the wet cobblestones. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to get away from the ghost.
He tore off his ruined suit jacket, tossing it into a dumpster, shivering as the freezing rain began to fall, soaking through his silk shirt.
He checked the clip of his 9mm. Empty.
He cursed violently, throwing the useless weapon into a puddle.
He needed a phone. He needed cash. He needed to get to the airport.
He rounded a corner, bursting out of the alleyway onto a deserted industrial street, intending to hail a cab.
Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Blocking the street were three black armored SUVs. Their headlights were blinding, cutting through the rain like searchlights.
Standing in front of the vehicles, entirely unbothered by the downpour, was Arthur. The bodyguard’s broken nose gave his face a terrifying, brutal symmetry under the harsh lights.
Trevor backed up, shaking his head. “No. No, wait. I can pay you. Whatever he pays you, I’ll double it. I’m a lawyer, I have access to offshore accounts!”
Arthur didn't say a word. He simply stepped aside.
From the shadows of the alleyway behind Trevor, footsteps echoed.
Slow, deliberate, and entirely calm.
Trevor spun around.
Sadi stood there.
She had taken off her high heels. She was walking barefoot on the wet, freezing pavement, her midnight-blue silk gown stained with Roman’s blood.
But she didn't look broken. She looked like a queen who had finally ascended her throne.
“You don't have offshore accounts, Trevor,” Sadi said, her voice carrying over the sound of the rain. “You don't have a law firm. You don't have Chloe. You have nothing.”
Trevor’s face twisted into an ugly, desperate sneer. He took a step toward her, trying to summon the old dominance he used to hold over her.
“You think you won?” Trevor spat, pointing a shaking finger at her. “You think because you married a monster you’re suddenly someone? You’re still the same pathetic, poor girl who begged me to stay!”
Answer one: Trevor’s cruelty wasn't born of ambition; it was born of profound, deep-seated insecurity. He hated her because she had survived without him.
“I did beg you to stay,” Sadi agreed softly, stopping five feet away from him. “Because I loved you. Because I thought you were a good man who was just lost.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled adoption agency card that had fallen from his wallet at the mall.
“But you weren't lost, Trevor,” Sadi said, dropping the card onto the wet pavement. “You were just evil. You looked at a two-year-old boy who had just lost his parents, and you saw a poker chip.”
The reversal finally shattered Trevor’s delusion. He looked at the circle of armed men surrounding him. He looked at the blood on Sadi’s dress. He realized, with absolute, crushing certainty, that his law degree and his silver tongue were completely useless here.
He dropped to his knees in the puddles.
The arrogance evaporated, replaced by pathetic, sobbing begging.
“Sadi, please,” Trevor cried, clutching his hands together. “They’ll kill me. He’ll kill me. Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything. I’ll sign whatever you want. Please don’t let them kill me.”
Sadi looked down at the man who had ruined her life.
She felt no pity. She felt no satisfaction. She felt absolutely nothing at all.
“My husband took a bullet tonight,” Sadi said, her voice devoid of all emotion. “He is currently in an ambulance with my brother. Do you know what he told his men to do with you before they loaded him onto the stretcher?”
Trevor shook his head wildly, tears and rain mixing on his face.
“He told them to let me decide,” Sadi said.
Trevor looked up at her, a pathetic glimmer of hope sparking in his eyes. He thought her goodness would save him. He thought the girl who used to sweep up the coffee grounds he threw would show him mercy.
Sadi turned her back on him and began walking toward the waiting SUVs.
“Sadi! Sadi, wait!” Trevor screamed.
Sadi didn't stop. She didn't look back.
She simply gave Arthur a microscopic nod of her head.
“Break his hands,” Sadi commanded quietly. “So he can never forge a signature again. Then leave him for the police.”
As she climbed into the warm interior of the SUV, the agonizing screams of Trevor echoing in the alleyway behind her, Sadi closed her eyes.
May you like
The past was finally dead.
It was time to go home.
