Epilogue
Wyatt
Ilook down at my screen, checking the security feed and making sure every pawn is exactly where they need to be.
The smell of bleach and iron is heavy in the air, but I guess this is what happens when you’re torturing someone in an industrial warehouse.
We are far from everyone, but close enough to the ocean that will soon swallow his secrets.
Content with what I see, I put the phone down and stare at the man hanging from two wire pillars.
Mr. Fucking J.
Heavy chains are wrapped around his wrists and neck—not tight enough to strangle him, though.
That would be too easy, and the last thing I want him to feel is mercy.
His wrists are raw, his breath is shallow, and I’m fairly sure he’s about to have a heart attack.
Blood and piss slide down his legs. At least now he knows what it feels like when you have to take, and your asshole isn’t prepared.
I close my eyes, reliving his screams and relishing in it.
His blue eyes are bloodshot and bulging out of his head, like the dildo between his ass cheeks.
“Do you know what you’re doing, boy?” he spits, voice trembling. “You won’t get away with this.”
But he’s wrong.
My lips stretch wide and slow, and a chuckle rumbles from deep in my gut.
“But I have, and I will. Who do you think caused the accident that killed Allison and left Mr. Roberts in a vegetative state? ME! I DID IT!” My voice bounces off the concrete.
The steady drip of water is enough to drive me mad.
He stares at me with his mouth agape, disbelief curdling into fear.
I tilt my head, smirking when I hear the heavy footsteps approaching. “Ahh, just in time…”
“Who’s there?” he asks, eyes scanning our surroundings, but the dead don’t speak. Or at least they shouldn’t. The door creaks open, and a ghost steps out of the shadows.
Mr. J’s breath catches, as he shakes his head. “No… No, he’s dead.” I inch closer, evaporating the small gap between us, and I pinch his arm and shrug.
“No. He’s very much alive, too bad it won’t be the same for you.”