24. 24 Tori
24: Tori
*A few minutes before*
Two things I’ve learned tonight: one, standoffs are not as glamorous as they look in the movies. Two, holding a gun this long makes your arms feel like they're about to fall off. But do I lower it? No. Because I’m stubborn and, more importantly, because Nico is standing there with his gun trained on me, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of thinking I’m scared of him.
Why haven't I shot him already?
Because it'd be too quick.
He doesn't deserve quick.
“You’re shaking, sweetheart,” Nico taunts, his grin widening as he takes a small step closer. His gun is still aimed at me, steady and unforgiving. “Are you nervous? I get it. Killing someone’s a big deal. A little much for a girl like you, don’t you think?”
A girl like me?
Oh, that’s rich.
My jaw clenches so tight I’m surprised my teeth don’t shatter. “You’re awfully chatty for someone seconds away from eating a bullet,” I shoot back. The sarcasm feels like armor, a shield against the creeping fear that threatens to overwhelm me.
Nico’s smile doesn’t waver, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe.
“You won’t do it,” he says, his tone so casual it makes my skin crawl.
It's as if he believes he knows me better than I know myself. Like he’s so sure I won’t be the one to put him in the ground. His smile is sharp, mean, and so fucking self-assured it makes my finger twitch on the trigger. “You don’t have it in you.”
“Try me,” I spit back, the words slipping out before I can second-guess them.
My voice sounds steady, even to me, and that’s saying something because my heart feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest. I tighten my grip on the gun, forcing myself not to let him see how much I want to throw up. Or cry. Or both.
You’re really nailing the whole revenge thing, Tori.
Doing great.
The door creaks behind me, and every nerve in my body screams at me not to look, not to take my eyes off Nico. But I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I can feel them. Blaze, Ryder, and Thorne. Their presence settles something in me, like an anchor keeping me steady in a storm.
Blaze steps into view, his gun raised and his expression colder than I’ve ever seen it. “Drop the gun, Nico,” he says, his tone low and steady. No room for negotiation.
Nico’s head snaps toward them, his smile faltering for the briefest moment. “Well,” he drawls, his voice dripping with disdain. “Look who finally decided to join the party.”
Nico’s attention shifts to Blaze, but his gun doesn’t waver. If anything, his grip tightens, his finger hovering just a little too close to the trigger for my liking. I hold my breath, my finger flexing on my own gun as I fight the urge to just pull it and end this.
“Well,” Nico continues, his tone light and mocking, like this is all some big joke to him. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting all three of you to come running to her rescue. Isn’t that sweet?” His eyes flick back to me, dark and sharp. “Tell me, Tori, how does it feel to have your very own fan club? Three big, strong men, all here to save their damsel in distress.”
“I don't need saving,” I snap, my voice louder than I intended. It echoes in the cavernous room, bouncing off the walls and amplifying the weight of my words.
“No, of course you don't.” Nico's jaw sets as if he's annoyed by the fact that I can take care of myself. “You don't know what I could have given you, Tori. What we could have had. We were going to rule the world together.”
“There's no world in which we would have done anything together. I wasn't your partner, I was your prisoner.” My gaze locks with his, showing him all the hatred I hold deep inside me. “Now I'm your executioner, and I won't make it quick.”
Nico’s smirk falters, just a fraction, and that flicker of uncertainty is all I need to steady my aim. His gun is still trained on me, his posture unyielding, but I see it—that tiny crack in his confidence, the beady, nervous sweat that's precipitating from his forehead.
That's right, Nico. You should be frightened.
“You think you’re scary, Tori?” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’re just a girl with a gun and a grudge. You don’t have what it takes to finish this.”
I tilt my head, my lips curling into something that feels almost like a smile but isn’t. “That’s where you’re wrong, Nico. I’m a girl with a gun, a grudge, and three monsters at her side for support. Who's at yours?”
Nico’s jaw flexes, his eyes darting to Blaze, Ryder, and Thorne, then back to me. “I don’t need anyone,” he says, but his voice has lost some of its venom. “Unlike you, Tori. You seem to always need someone to protect you.”
I scoff, tilting my head like I’m actually giving his nonsense some thought. “I don’t need anyone to protect me, Nico. I never have. They’re here because they want to be, because they care. Because they love me. Something you couldn’t even begin to understand.”
His face twists, like my words physically hit him. “Love,” he sneers, spitting the word like it’s poison. “You think that makes you strong? Love makes you weak. It blinds you. And when it’s gone, it leaves you with nothing.”
I shoot back, my voice steady. “Love doesn’t make you weak. It makes you stronger. And unlike you, I don’t use it to manipulate people. I don’t take, and take, and leave people broken in the end.”
His fury is barely contained as he white knuckles his grip on his weapon.
Blaze steps forward, his gun steady and his tone sharper than steel. “Enough, Nico. This is over.”
Nico’s gaze snaps back to mine, his expression a twisted mix of rage and desperation. And before I can move, Blaze lunges forward, knocking the gun out of Nico’s hand and shoving him to the ground. The move is so fast I barely register it, and suddenly, Nico is on his knees, his hands twisted behind his back.
Blaze shifts his grip, dragging Nico to his feet before pinning him against a stack of tall crates. “You're out of luck now, Nico. All your planning and scheming has led you here, at our mercy.”
“And we're not merciful guys,” Ryder adds, striding beside Blaze.
“I hope you're ready to pay the price for taking our girl. For hurting her the way you did,” Thorne warns, his voice so ominous it sends a chill down my spine. My arms fall, lowering the gun as I take in the sight of them.
Something about the way they're surrounding Nico has my heart racing.
“I hear you like to leave your mark to remind a girl who she belongs to. Maybe I should remind you who Tori belongs to? Because it sure as shit isn't you,” Blaze speaks, his voice cold and threatening.
He holds his right hand out to Ryder, who immediately supplies him with a hunting knife from his waistband. With a smirk so evil I can only describe it as possessed, Blaze begins to carve a B on Nico's cheek. He curves the B, leading into an R and overlapping the letters with a large T.
Blood drips down Nico's face, but he doesn’t cry out. He doesn’t plead. His eyes are locked on me, dark and unflinching, like he’s daring me to look away.
There’s something in his gaze that makes my stomach twist. Not fear, not anger—something quieter. Sadness, maybe. Acceptance. Like he’s known all along that this is how it ends for him.
The adrenaline in me is fading, but the rage burning inside me is hotter than ever. Ryder is the next to step forward, leaning slightly over Blaze's shoulder to meet Nico’s eye. “You look nervous, pal,” he says, his voice mockingly sweet. “What’s the matter? Didn’t think we’d actually catch you?”
Nico doesn’t respond. His eyes dart between us like he's trying to find an escape, but there’s no way out.
“Let’s make this simple,” Thorne says, his voice low and dangerous as he steps to Nico’s other side. He pulls a blade of his own from his belt, the gleam of the steel catching the dim light. “The next few hours are going to be spent with us taking turns scarring you up. When we've had our fill, Tori here is going to take her turn, and I promise, she's more than capable of pulling that trigger.”
Nico stays quiet, his eyes defiant, and I can’t help but see myself. The way I would hold my head high, jut my chin, and pretend like I wasn’t being hurt. He’s doing it now, but I know deep down he’s scared. He doesn’t want to die.
What sane person does?
“Nothing to say?” Ryder asks, his tone mocking again. “No clever insults? No desperate bargaining?”
Nico doesn’t answer. His gaze flicks to Ryder for a brief moment, then back to me. He looks at me like I’m the only one in the room, like none of this matters. My hand tightens around the gun at my side, the weight of it grounding me as I step closer.
Blaze doesn’t wait. His knife flashes again, slicing into Nico’s arm with cold precision. The blood that pours out isn’t the worst part—it’s the sound of the blade hitting bone, the sickening crunch that echoes through the room. Nico tries to bite back the sound but it’s useless, and he lets out a pained yell.
Blaze twists the knife slightly before pulling it free, the blade slick with Nico’s blood. “That’s more like it.”
Nico’s jaw tightens but he keeps quiet again. It’s unnerving, the way he doesn’t flinch or beg, like he’s resigned to this.
Ryder cracks his knuckles like he’s warming up for a fight. Thorne steps in next, his blade sharp and ready. He doesn’t speak as he grabs Nico’s other arm, pinning it up against the edge of the crate. I'm not sure what he has planned, but a part of me is excited to see, excited to hear Nico scream.
There's definitely something wrong with me.
“You put your hands on her,” Thorne says, his voice low, almost a growl, but dangerously steady. “Touched what wasn’t yours. Left marks on something that didn’t belong to you.” His dark gaze fixes on Nico, and for a split second, the air in the room feels like it might ignite from the sheer force of his rage. “So, I’m taking what you used to do it.”
Thorne positions the blade at Nico’s knuckle, pressing the knife against his flesh. A faint hiss escapes Nico’s lips as the steel bites into his skin, his jaw tightening against the obvious pain. The muscles in his neck strain, his body rigid, and he lets out a muffled groan, doing his best not to scream again.
Thorne presses the blade deeper, and the crunch of bone splintering beneath the pressure sends a jolt down my spine. Nico can’t hold back anymore and his shouts of pain echo through the room. Blood pools quickly, spilling down the edge of the crate and onto the floor in heavy drops. Nico’s face twists, his breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts, but he doesn’t say anything.
“You should never have taken what’s ours,” Thorne growls, his tone as sharp as the blade in his hand. He tosses the severed finger onto the ground without a second glance, and the slick thud of it hitting the concrete makes my stomach churn. Then he goes back for the next finger.
Nico’s eyes meet Thorne’s briefly, his expression pale but prideful as fuck. His lips twitch, almost like he’s trying to smirk, though the pain has drained most of the fight from his features. Sweat beads on his brow and his breath hitches, but he holds his head high.
He’s trying not to break, but I know he’s almost there.
Thorne continues to cut off fingers. The sound will haunt me, but not in the way I had assumed. The sight before me should be sickening; it should make me nauseous, make me want to turn away. But instead I take a step toward them, as if Nico's cries of pain are calling me forward.
Ryder steps forward with a look of disgust. His voice rises, a dark edge slicing through his usual humor. “Come on, Nico. Aren’t you going to beg us to stop? We all know you're hurting. We know you're scared.”
Ryder doesn’t wait for a response. He grabs a coil of rope from one of the crates, his movements quick as he ties Nico’s wrists together behind his back. Blood drips from each fingerless nub, and I'm starting to worry he'll die of blood loss before I ever get the chance to hurt him.
“You like control, don’t you?” Ryder says, his tone mocking as he yanks the knot tight enough to make Nico flinch. “Let’s see how you like this.”
He shoves Nico forward, forcing him to his knees, and binds his ankles together with another length of rope. “You don’t deserve to die standing,” Ryder snaps, his hands moving efficiently.
The degradation is sharp, biting, but Ryder doesn’t stop there. He loops the remaining rope around Nico’s neck, joining it to the rope around his wrists, not tight enough to choke him but enough to force Nico’s head up, making it impossible for him to look at anything but the person who’s hurting him.
Ryder stands in front of Nico. His smirk gone, replaced by something darker, angrier. “She was scared to let me touch her. Scared because of you . Do you know what that did to her? To me?” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You don’t get to live with what you did, but you’re going to feel every second of this before you die.”
Ryder stands, stepping back and crossing his arms as he looks down at Nico like he’s nothing. Then he beats him black and blue for what feels like an eternity before he finally stands, adjusting his shirt.
“Tori,” he says, his tone softening slightly as he glances back at me. “He’s all yours.”
My grip on the gun tightens, my chest heaving as I step forward. Nico’s head tilts slightly, trying to look right in my eyes as I approach. His face is pale and bloodied, sweat beading on his brow, but his eyes remain locked on mine, unflinching. Defiant. Like he’s daring me to break him.
“You made me doubt myself. Doubt them. You made me scared of my own goddamn shadow.” My hands tremble, but I force myself to steady them, to keep the barrel trained on him. “But not anymore. You don’t get to win.”
Nico doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch. His lips twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to smirk, even now. “Is that what you tell yourself?” he says, his voice hoarse but laced with mockery. “That it’s my fault? You’re the one who let me get under your skin, Tori. You’re the one who—”
“Shut up.” The words snap out of me, sharp and unyielding. I raise the gun higher, aiming it squarely at his head. “You don’t get to talk.”
His mouth twitches again, but he falls silent, his dark eyes boring into mine. They’re unreadable, but I can feel the way they seem to see straight through me. It’s infuriating, the way he can still make me feel like this, even when he’s tied up and bleeding on the floor.
Nico’s head tilts slightly, a faint, mocking glint in his eyes. “Tori, I gave you freedom,” he says, his tone like a parent scolding a child who doesn’t understand the value of their gift. “I gave you power. And this is how you repay me?”
“Oh, you’re right,” I say, leaning forward slightly, my grip on the gun tightening. “I’m being so ungrateful. Thank you so much for kidnapping me, locking me up, and turning the only person I considered family against me. Really, Nico, you’re the gift that keeps on giving.”
His lips twitch again, but this time it’s not a smirk—it’s something darker. “You think these three would have let you be what you are now, standing here with a gun to my head? You’d still be weak, still—”
“Still what?” I cut him off, my voice sharp. “Still me? You didn’t make me, Nico. You just broke a piece of me and hoped I wouldn’t figure out how to fix it.”
His silence feels louder than any words he could’ve thrown at me. His gaze narrows slightly, the faintest flicker of something—doubt? Regret?—crossing his face before it hardens again. “You’re lying to yourself,” he says, his voice quieter now. “They’ll never see you the way I do. They’ll never see you as the inferno you can be.”
“Shut up.” My voice cracks through the air like a whip, and I’m surprised by how steady it sounds. “You don’t get to talk about them.”
Nico stares at me, his jaw tightening. My chest heaves, my grip on the gun so tight my knuckles ache, but I don’t lower it.
“You know what the real difference is between you and them?” I say, taking a small step closer. “They never left any physical scars. Never assaulted me the way you did. We have our past, but they’ve made up for it. They made me stronger. You? You just made me angry.”
“And dangerous,” Ryder adds from behind me. “Don’t forget dangerous. You really screwed up there, Nico.”
I can’t help the faint smirk that tugs at my lips, but it fades just as quickly as I turn my attention back to Nico. “You thought you’d win, didn’t you?” I ask, my voice softer now, almost curious. “You thought you’d keep me under your thumb forever.”
He doesn’t answer, but the way his jaw tightens tells me everything I need to know.
“Well, here’s the thing, Nico,” I say, tilting my head slightly. “You underestimated me. You underestimated them. You underestimated all of us. And now, you’re going to pay for it.”
His eyes remain locked on mine, that faint glint of defiance still lingering despite the blood, the ropes, the knife marks on his skin. It’s infuriating, but it’s also... satisfying. Because I can see it now, the truth he doesn’t want to admit. He’s lost. He knows it. And it’s killing him more than any blade or bullet ever could.
“Any last words?” I ask, and his lips part, but he hesitates.
“You’ll realize I was right, and it’ll be too late. They’re going to ruin you, Tori. You’ll see,” he responds, his voice too calm for what’s about to come.
“You’re wrong,” I snap, aiming my gun right for his groin.
It’s not rusty scissors, but a shot to the dick isn’t fun either.
My finger twitches before I fully pull the trigger, seeing his crotch practically explode as he screams in agony. Blood soaks into the fabric of his pants, down his thighs and onto the floor. It’s bleeding a lot more than I expected, but I’m more than okay with that. Maybe because I know that in just a few short seconds, I’ll be ending his life.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” I smirk, stepping closer, pressing the gun against his skull.
My finger hovers over the trigger, my pulse pounding so loudly I’m surprised no one else can hear it. This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for… fantasizing about.
So why does my hand suddenly feel like it weighs a thousand pounds?
Can I do this? Actually take a life?
Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tori, get it together. He kidnapped you, tortured you, branded you like cattle, and you’re standing here wondering if you can kill him?
Of course, you can. Stop overthinking it.
My grip on the gun tightens, and I tilt my head, giving Nico one last look. “Goodbye, Nico,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
I squeeze the trigger.
The sound of the gunshot is deafening, reverberating through the room like a thunderclap. Nico’s body jerks, then crumples to the floor in a lifeless heap. The silence that follows is almost as loud, the weight of what I’ve done settling over me like a heavy, suffocating blanket.
I lower the gun slowly, my hands trembling. My chest heaves as I stare down at him, my mind racing.
Did I really just do that? Did I really just end someone’s life?
Am I a monster now?
The thought sticks, sinking its claws into me like some dark, insidious thing.
I killed him. I didn’t have to, but I did. What does that make me? Am I just like him now?
I glance up, my gaze landing on Blaze, Thorne, and Ryder, covered in Nico’s blood like me. And then I see it—the way they’re looking at me, like I’m not a monster at all. Like I’m something good, something worth fighting for.
And if I am a monster, at least I won’t be alone.