Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Skylar
Turning my back, I step fully into the light, focused entirely on the task at hand.
I don’t bother looking at Franko. Instead, my movements are slow.
Deliberate. Calm. I hold the glass vial up to the light, tapping the side to clear the air bubbles before drawing the pretty amber liquid into the syringe.
Compared to Franko’s frantic blubbering sobs, its motion is quiet and rhythmic, blending in with the soothing hum of the hot tub behind me.
“Skylar, Skylar, please! Look at me. Anything! You can have it! Fucking anything!”
I continue to ignore him, all the while Jericho leans against the rim of the tub, with a wicked gleam in his eye. He’s calmly sitting there, letting me have this win. But I don’t want a complacent spectator. I want a partner in crime. Memories come to mind.
Last night, I broke apart for the first time in years.
That familiar darkness clawed its way up my throat, reminding me of every single evil thing Franko did to my sister.
I crumbled like a child who missed his sibling.
A child who missed his parents. Suddenly, I was a small, broken soul who wanted his family back, only to remember they were all gone.
But unlike all the other times, Jericho was there to catch me. He held me, allowing me to get it all out. After that, he showered me with praise and soothing noises until my tears stopped flowing.
Slowly, oh so slowly, he put me back together. But I needed more. Not that I had any idea what more meant, just that I needed it.
Thankfully, Jericho knew.
Silently, he rose from the bed and retrieved a newly treated hemp rope. It wasn’t the jute that I preferred. It was softer.
“Come here,” he commanded, offering the unwavering sense of control I craved.
I didn’t even hesitate; at that moment, I was pure submission, begging to be owned and cared for. To be cherished. To be loved. I desperately surrendered to this man who knew how to put me back together.
Jericho worked meticulously, wrapping me with the art of Shibari.
He wasn’t just tying knots; he was grounding me.
The tight, biting texture of the rope around my torso and arms before securely coiling around my chest. With each deliberate pull and tug, Jericho was encompassing me until I felt safe enough to let go.
Franko’s screams yank me back to reality. Sauntering up to Jericho, I press my body against his, leaning forward and angling my head until my lips brush his. “Sky,” he whispers reverently. “What are you doing?”
I’m still holding the syringe in one hand, but Jericho doesn’t even flinch. His trust means everything to me. With my free hand, I grasp his wrist, trailing his fingers down to my hard cock.
He gasps in shock. “Fuck, little minx. What were you thinking about that made you this damn hard?”
I smirk and shrug casually, clutching the memories of last night close to my heart.
“Tell me why you’re hard, angel. Is it me, or is it because that piece of shit over there is about to die?” He hums. “Or maybe it’s because you want to make him suffer a little before we drown the bastard. Are you hard because you want me to make him bleed?”
Angel. Angel. Angel. I’m about to kill a man, and yet, I’m still his angel. I smile against his lips. “Yes,” I breathe. “All of it.”
I begin grinding against his hand, all the while Franko’s screams morph into insults and slurs.
Jericho chuckles, stroking me through my black pants.
We’re matching again, both in black jeans and dress shirts.
Only his is white, and mine’s black. Our kisses and grinding turn a little frantic as we lose ourselves in the moment.
My fingers find the buttons on his shirt, while his find mine.
My free hand snakes between us, slowly rubbing his cock before straying to his pocket and pulling out his tactical knife.
I step back and unfold it. His striking blue eyes are dark and predatory.
Dangerous. Filled with lust and sexy as fuck.
I flip the knife around in my grasp and pass it to him, handle first.
“Go on, devil. Shut him up for me.”
In a split second, Jericho’s soft expression morphs into something deadly. A manic, exhilarated light ignites in his eyes, twisting his smile into something jagged.
Jericho approaches Franko, letting the light reflect off his blade.
Franko’s screams turn shrill as Jericho slashes his knife in a violent, dramatic arch that slices through the skin on Franko’s chest. Blood sprays through the air, painting all three of us in a splatter of crimson.
It’s a sharp cut that’s just meant to scare, more than anything.
“You heard my man. Shut the fuck up,” Jericho says, deadly calm.
Franko instantly snaps his mouth shut, shaking violently enough to cause the chains to rattle. While he’s distracted by the knife in front of his face, I stab the syringe into his neck, injecting him with a small dose of my perfectly crafted poison.
Franko’s eyes droop, and based on his height and weight, we have about two to five minutes to place him into the hot tub before he snaps back to reality. Dazed and blissed out, Franko blinks at me. I laugh. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Director. It’s the only bit of peace you’ll get before you die.”
Jericho and I have barely closed the lid of the hot tub when my poison wears off. Terrified, shrill noises erupt from Franko’s throat, sounding like music to my ears.
I hop on top of the lid and sit on it before Franko does some strange, adrenaline-fueled Hulk smash. Jericho easily takes his large industrial padlock and seals the hot tub shut. “You ready, angel?”
That damn nickname. Fuck, I think I like it just as much as minx.
“Ready,” I breathe, joining Jericho’s side.
Jericho nods and presses the button on the side of the tub.
I peer through the clear window on the side of the tub as it continues slowly filling with water.
It was already up to his shoulders, but now it’s rising.
It doesn’t take long for the pretty, clean water to fill Franko’s lungs and the life to leave his eyes.
Leaning back against Jericho, I let his weight hold me up.
His strong arms are wrapped tight around me, trapping me against the solid wall of his chest. “It’s finally over, Sky. ” Jericho kisses my temple.
We’re both panting and hard, but we don’t let the animalistic urge take over. Instead, we linger in this euphoric feeling for a while longer, knowing we’ve just removed another evil person from this world.
There’s a twisted, fucked-up kind of humor in the universe. Less than twenty-four hours after we watched the life drain out of Franko’s eyes, the sky clears up and decides to bathe the city of New Vernon in sunshine.
Parking the car, I glance over at Jericho and lace our fingers together.
He brings my knuckles to his lips, making me feel cherished, worshiped, and submissive all at once. He seems to kiss my fingers often, and I have to admit I love it. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Good. Slightly nervous and a little exhilarated, I guess. It’s not like the movies where the characters talk about not feeling anything different. It’s a lie. I am different. I feel free. Maybe even a little…lost?
“Lost?” Jericho reaches out, leaning across the console of the car. He cups my face in his palm. “You’re allowed to feel a little lost. You’ve dedicated the last several years to exacting revenge. Now that this chapter of your life is over, you have no idea what’s next.”
His intense blue stare bores into me, heavy with unasked questions. It feels like a physical weight against my skin, pinning me in place and stripping away the darkness until there’s nothing left but the raw, electric current stretching between us.
At the end of the day, if Jericho and I can stand in the shadows and face all these questions together, it’s enough. For a man like me, that is what happiness looks like.
Giving him a grateful smile, I squeeze his hand. “Come on, let’s get out of the car. I want to introduce you to my sister.”
No matter how dark things got, I’ve never let her stone fall into disrepair. I keep her little plot perfectly groomed and surrounded by a thick bed of flowers that changes with the seasons. It’s a lush mix of all her favorites, anchored by the deep, blooming white amethysts she loved so much.
“Hey, Fiona,” I say as we approach. “I wanted you to meet someone. My boyfriend.”
Jericho chuckles, squeezing our laced fingers.
“Boyfriend sounds so anticlimactic.” He reaches out and caresses the top of her stone.
“Hi Fiona. I’m Jericho. Your brother’s future fiancé and eventual husband.
” He pauses, looking at me, blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
“His partner. Partner in crime and partner in life.”
My whole body lights up at his words. “Hmm. I’m pretty sure you have to ask me to marry you before declaring things like that,” I chuckle.
“Don’t worry, Minx. I have plans for us.”
Grinning, I turn back to my sister’s grave and take a seat.
Jericho sits next to me, getting comfortable and showing me I don’t have to rush.
I take a deep breath and tell her it’s over.
That I took care of all of them for her.
I tell her that the men who hurt her will never hurt another soul.
“You can be happy now, little sis. You can rest in peace now.”
I toy with a white amethyst petal on the ground, wishing I’d had time to get her a bouquet.
Jericho said not to worry about it, but sitting here now, I wish there was at least a little something for me to decorate her stone with.
As I play with the petal, I realize I’m distracting myself.
Avoiding what I really want to tell Fiona.
“I have a confession to make, Fi: The darkness has taken root, wrapping its black vines around my ribs until I can’t tell where the shadows end and I begin.
I’m afraid it won’t go away. That I don’t want it to.
It has festered into something else. Something…
vicious—” My words trail off, and I feel vulnerable and raw.
I glance at Jericho, wondering if he truly accepts me like this.
Jericho picks up where I left off. “Vicious. Yes. Vicious and beautiful. And oh so fucking perfect. Don’t worry, Fiona. I’m not going anywhere. Everything your brother has to face, he won’t be alone through it. Ever again,” he promises.
Tears spring to my eyes because I know those words were clearly meant for me. “Thank you,” I whisper, still playing with the lone petal in my hand.
A sudden shift in the air makes the hair on my arms stand up.
Half a dozen people are approaching, carrying thick bundles of flowers.
White amethyst. I watch them, my mind desperately trying to rationalize it.
At first, I assume the flowers are meant for a different plot entirely.
But they don’t stop. They encircle us, completely ignoring our presence as they layer the beautiful blooms directly over my sister’s grave.
My gaze snaps up to Jericho’s, but he’s already looking at me, smiling, his eyes sparkling. He did this. I glance around at the pretty flowers and realize this is more than just a gift.
It’s a promise.
Our beginning was fractured and unconventional, but I’m starting to believe it was fate.
In all the twisted, blood-soaked chaos that followed Fiona’s murder, maybe this is her final gift.
A quiet hand guiding our paths together, reminding me that it’s okay to step out of the shadows. That it’s okay to live again. To love.