Page 112 of Deliria

“You already know the answer to that.”

We both know the answer. Oh, Jane Heath was a smart woman. She was hard to track down after so many years on the run after her sister’s murder, but we got that bitch in the end.

How that must have upset Scarlett’s father, how he must have wailed when all his carefully laid plans fell apart and he realised they were still so easy to eliminate. Shame the bastard isn’t alive to see his stolen kingdom turn to ashes. I don’t doubt they’ll have a merry little reunion once Scarlett joins them all in the pits of hell.

“Why?” She says quietly. “My aunt was…”

“She was part of it. She helped your father steal millions from us.”

“It wasn’t yours to begin with.” She states. “You were stealing that money too. Embezzling it…”

I let out a laugh at her words. So she does know more than she’s let on. Perhaps the little minx knew it all.

For a moment I pause on that thought. If she did know, if she knew everything, then there’s a chance she’s still playing me now.

But that’s not possible. There’s no way she can outsmart me. No way she’d be stupid enough to continue, considering she knows full well what I have planned. How far I will go. What brutality I have done and will do to her before this ends.

“That money reverts to me.” She says. “In four days’ time.”

“Correct.”

“And that’s why I’m here.” Her eyes dart about, looking with scorn at the mansion that she should be honoured to even be in. “Because of some trust fund.”

“Trust fund?” I smirk. “Or my inheritance when my poor wife finally crumbles under the weight of her illness and in a moment of madness throws herself off those cliffs…?”

As if God himself is on my side, cheering me on, the waves make a dramatic crash, and that wall of water has her actually flinching. I can see it, that moment, that beautiful final scene. After everything we’ve been through, it will be an absolute pleasure to pick her up, toss her like a rag doll and watch as her beautiful body shatters on those rocks so far below.

And I’ll stand there, I’ll watch, as her blood trickles out, as it mingles with the water, as it stains the rocks, as it turns everything into a bright, livid scarlet red, just like her namesake.

She stares out, her face paling as if she can feel those broken bones already, and try as she might, I can see her wringing her fingers like she’s desperate to jump up and flee.

Silly bitch had her chance, she had her moment to escape. These last twenty-four hours she could have fled, could have gotten away, only she was too stupid or too cowardly to risk it.

“Anything else you wish to know?” I ask, almost amused now that her stoic little façade is crumbling.

She lets out a low breath, like she’s trying to shore up the last of her resolve, shakes her head, and then she scoops her hair to one side, presenting her neck for me as if she’s expecting me to kiss that delicate, vulnerable place.

I rise from my chair, taking the syringe and as I approach, I can see that blue vein in her neck beating faster and faster. Oh, she may act all courageous but just like always, her body betrays her.

I lean down, jabbing her quickly, half expecting some last-minute attempt to throw me off.

She stares up at me. Those fierce eyes glaring back.

And I can pinpoint it. I can see the exact moment that defiance wavers, it blurs, and she once more is rendered utterly powerless.

Her body slumps. Her hands unclench from the tight little fists she’s made.

“Sleep, wife.” I murmur, after pulling the syringe back out. “You have a busy few days ahead of you, and I want you at your absolute best.”

Rafferty

Ican’t take my eyes off her.

She’s electric. She seems to light up the entire room, like she’s the sun and everything around it is spinning in her force.

It’s a shit analogy. A shit comparison. The girl is more alive, more beautiful to look at than that fiery piece of shit in the sky.

I clench my fists, drawing in a deep breath, and furtively cast my eyes about to make sure that I’m not seen. Not noticed.

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