Page 13 of Endgame
A dark, warm satisfaction settles where my heart used to beat.
Yes, I am being harsh. I am being unreasonable.
And yes, I know, in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, you can’t get life in prison for shoplifting. Not even when it’s your third strike.
I don’t give a damn. I don’t play by the rules. I have friends in high places who owe me a favor or a million. I can make almost anything happen.
That’s why I’m in this court in the first place.
Why I hired two corrupt private investigators to monitor Aurora’s moves. After her second stint in prison, I had them rotating shifts outside her home, waiting for her to go on another one of her infamous shopping sprees.
Their orders were simple. Follow her. Wait for her to shoplift. Alert the clerk that a thief is attempting to exit the store.
I could’ve done it after her first time behind bars, but even my connections can only get me so far.
So, here we are.
Me, overruling her case. Aurora, frozen and at my mercy. She doesn’t so much as blink.
A month or two in prison wouldn’t have bothered her in the slightest. She’s been there, done that.
The prospect of spending the rest of her life behind bars? No one’s immune to that.
Especially not spoiled, little, rich girls.
Her pink lips are parted. Delicate jaw slack.
A lock of her hair has escaped her immaculate bun, draping over one widened blue eye. She hasn’t bothered tucking it behind her ear.
Her button nose is as red as her cheeks and neck, evidence of the heat crawling beneath her skin, of the humiliation.
Satisfaction rolls through me like a fine, aged wine.
Blackmailing her is going to be easier than I thought it would be.
Soon, I’ll have her tears.
I’ll become the master of her fear. Own her troubled gaze. Those rapid heartbeats I hear all the way from my bench—they belong to me already.
She’s mine to ruin.
All three Clarkes are.
The family who destroyed mine. They’ll pay for everything. Only a matter of time.
For now, I have this. Her third strike and the discretion to impose a sentence well beyond what the statute typically recommends.
That’s the leverage I hold over her.
The noose I’ll tighten until she has no choice but to walk straight into the lion’s den.
Into becoming my wife.
My captive, if I’m being honest.
She’ll suffer. She’ll hurt.
I won’t.
