Chapter 69 #2
What makes this entire assault more harrowing is that I trusted him; I willingly relinquished custody of my body and mind when I gave him my submission. He betrayed that, set me up for a fate worse than death. I was na?ve, blinded by my willingness to trust him.
I should’ve seen him for the vicious animal he was.
My safe word means nothing to him, because I mean nothing to him.
The recollection of rage and promise of vengeance has me snapping back to the present like I’m a wind-up doll coming back to life.
My palms are damp, my mouth wet, my stomach rioting, but I won’t be taken down like this, not by him.
I’m stronger than that. I’ve walked through the fire and come out on the other side.
Percy’s lips are still moving, but I hear nothing as I remind myself that I did conquer that pain.
I went to Hell, but I refused to let that become my home.
I take a steadying breath, then another, the heady incentive of retribution sluicing through my veins and freezing my panic in its tracks.
He smirks, obviously assuming that he’s gotten to me.
Technically, he has, but he’s about to find out that I’ve remembered who the fuck I am.
“You’re right, Percy.”
He frowns, his eyebrows creasing in obvious confusion.
“I did used to be more compliant.”
“It’s what made me knew I liked you the moment I saw you with Grady.”
I grind my teeth at his use of Grady’s heinous name but nod all the same. He moves to the chair across from me, and I wait until his ass is in the seat to continue. “I’m not compliant anymore. I live by my own set of laws, rules that every client agrees to follow.”
He opens his mouth to say God knows what, so I cut him off. “I slept with the President last term and my wife doesn’t know,” I begin to recite the secrets from memory. “The missing money from the defense budget is in my bank account. The governor of Kansas—”
“What?” he interrupts, frowning, the lines on his face deepening.
My stomach continues to twist and turn, my throat raw, the backs of my eyes still burning, but I’m finished tolerating this brute. Men no longer rule over my life, and this smarmy animal needs to be put down like his friends.
If anything, this is a gift. I killed them all, freed myself, but now that I’ve been made aware of this last invisible shackle, sending Percy York to the grave releases me in more ways than I was expecting.
I cross my legs, stretching an arm along the back of the couch casually as I explain, “Oh, I was just listing the secrets that you stole when you poached those clients from me.”
His nostrils flare, his hands balling into fists, his voice booming as he snaps back. “Most of those clients were mine before they were yours. I’d been in this business for twenty-five years when you showed up and stole them all.”
Ah. Well, I’m still not giving them back.
Like a true politician, he likes to hear himself talk, and I allow him to continue. If this is how he wishes to spend his final moments, who am I to stop him?
“I have to admit, your business model was genius, though, collecting the secrets. It took me a long time, but once I learned how you were running things, I decided to do things the same way, only I was smart enough to use the blackmail I collected.”
Once more, I roll my eyes internally, but outwardly, I give him a pitying smile. “Ruling from a place of fear will never get you anywhere. That’s where you went wrong.”
This is why I built my business the way I did. Employees and clients would rather work with the Madam who’s never betrayed them, never weaponized terror, and treated them courteously, respectfully, and practiced the utmost discretion.
I have no qualms using the secrets I’ve collected, but only when necessary. They’re simply an insurance policy to keep people like Henry and Percy from doing exactly what they did.
“I spent a decade ensuring that those clients could trust me, that I wouldn’t be selling their confidences to the highest bidder,” I explain.
“I never used those secrets to blackmail anyone, and since I have a little decorum, it was as easy as breathing to persuade ninety percent of those clients to return to me.”
“You bitch,” he spits as his cheeks redden, as if I haven’t been called worse, and by his friends, no less. “What about the remaining ten percent?”
As if they could save you. I scoff. “You have a handful of mutts loyal to you, Percy, but they’ve been notified that I’ll be releasing their secrets.
They were fairly given the chance to come back to me, but they chose the losing side.
” I glance pointedly at the clock, a wicked grin tugging at my lips as I face him once more and divulge, “In fact, three minutes ago, those secrets were sent to the various outlets and sources I hand selected.”
I’m surprised that anyone chose not to agree to my terms. Then again, I didn’t anticipate a one hundred percent return rate.
It doesn’t make a difference to me, though, not now that I’ve got most of my clients back, nearly all of whom were willing to pay an additional fee of new secrets they turned over readily.
I didn’t know it was possible, but his face turns an even brighter shade of red, now the same hue as my dress. He reaches into this suit jacket and pulls out his phone. Taking advantage of that split second, I bend down and pull the gun from the holster at my ankle.
“Whatever it is you’re about to do, I’d advise against it.”
His gaze flicks up, immediately meeting the hollow end of the barrel of my little double-action revolver that’s been with me for fourteen years. His eyes widen, and I smile.
“Put the phone away, Percy.”
I’m not sure if he was planning to call for help, or if he was looking to see if I was bluffing. I wasn’t, but it doesn’t matter—not to him, anyway.
As if he’s attempting to see if I’m capable of pulling this trigger, he studies me. I’m all too happy to prove that I am, though. Whatever he sees on my face has his nose wrinkling as he shakes his head. “Genevieve, it doesn’t have to end like this.”
My face contorts. “Like what? Like a beast being put down?”
He doesn’t acknowledge that. Instead, his chest expands, his pupils dilating as he rubs his hands on his suit pants, swallowing audibly. I hope he shits himself. One of the men who hurt me did and it would be no less satisfying to see that happen again.
“We could team up… I’ve already cleared ten million this year alone. Imagine the profits.” He’s switching tactics, now begging with wide, desperate eyes.
“I can imagine the profits because I’ve enjoyed them for the last decade, only I actually paid the people who worked for me.
I don’t think we’d make good business partners, considering our fundamental differences in the way we treat people.
” My patience has expired, and I level him with a flat glare. “Get on your knees, Percy.”
The pathetic sound of his shallow breaths fills the small apartment as his body shudders. I cock the hammer of the pistol, arching an eyebrow, daring him to challenge me. Shooting him point-blank wasn’t part of my plan, but I can pivot.
“Unless you have a guardian demon, you won’t be getting out of this situation, so I suggest you do as I say.” I was right to think that his cockiness would be his downfall. He brought words to a gunfight, never expecting me to be capable of violence.
Understanding seems to dawn on him, and he grudgingly slides off the chair and kneels on the rug that decorates the paltry space between us.
“Was it you?” he asks, a light quiver to his voice. “Are you the one who killed Leo? I always suspected it was you, but I couldn’t prove it. If I’d known a long time ago that you and Allison were the same person—”
“It was me,” I cut him off. “I’m also responsible for the death of Grady, as well as the rest of your friends.”
I have nothing to lose by confessing now. Not with his demise sitting in the palm of my hand. He curls his lip in disgust, as if I’m the monster here.
Only then do I reach into my purse and remove the slip of paper. “Here, I’m going to need you to sign this.”
“What is it?”
Passing him the sheet of paper and a pen, I grin. I have to credit Ford, but where he used something similar to save my life, I’m going to end Percy’s. “It’s your suicide note.”
He stares down at the typed words for several seconds before his head whips up. Terror swirls in his brown irises, mixed with confusion and defiance. He begins to shake his head furiously, his reddened face finally paling. “You can’t be serious?”
Standing, I step up to him, my gun trained on his face. “Deadly. Now, sign the paper.”
His throat moves with a gulp, but he does as I say, scribbling on the bottom of the page. “Now what?”
With the firearm still trained on him, I remove the small plastic bag from my pocket filled with capsules and toss it to him. “Take one. More, if you want.”
“What is it?”
“Cyanide.”
Delight ripples through me as I notice the tremble in his fingers as he opens the bag, tears now streaking down his miserable face. Good. “Swallow the pill, then stick out your miserable tongue and show me.”
He hiccups, a sob escaping, but I feel no remorse. This is less than he deserves. Finally, he puts the pill in his mouth. I watch as his Adam’s apple moves with the effort.
Sniffling, he attempts to put his tongue back in his mouth, but I thrust the barrel of the revolver there instead. “No, wrap your lips around this and fucking suck.” I repeat the words Grady spit at me fourteen years ago, sneering as I add, “Worthless whore.”
Too soon, foam and bile are spilling from the corners of his mouth, seeping out around the barrel of my firearm. Stepping back, I stand there for several more minutes, long after his body slumps to the floor and stops convulsing.
Almost nothing has ever felt better. Well, that’s not true, but then again, it’s hard to compare anything to the beautiful, sweet revenge I felt as I watched a pool of Grady Blandon’s blood grow beneath his lifeless body; that was raw consolation and vibrant joy like I’d never experienced.
However, this feels almost as good. Had I known he was involved before now, I would’ve reduced him to worm food along with the other men I had in my basement.
I never would’ve waited this long to see the light leave his eyes, but the fact that he’s dead now does leave me with a sense of peace that I hadn’t known I needed.
After cleaning my revolver, which I plan to have professionally serviced after being in the mouth of a rabid animal, I scan the space, ensuring there’s nothing that would call into question a suicide ruling.
Confident I’m in the clear, I stride from the apartment, leaving an eliminated threat on the rug in the middle of the room, next to a piece of paper that claims responsibility for all my crimes.
My heels click against the concrete floor as I leave the building with a bright grin on my face, stalking toward the sanctuary I should’ve sought fourteen years ago, toward sovereignty.