Page 173 of Deceit

Regardless, she’s dead, and Mills is alive when I wish it were the other way around.

So taking matters into my own hands was going to begin the moment Mills stepped out of the safety of his home and into the world where I’ve been.

Alone.

Upset.

Livid.

And on a fucking warpath to obliterate the man who received what I wanted.

So we’ll add envy to the list as well.

Mills left his home when Blue showed up, and it would’ve been kind of me to let him drive away, believing that everything would be okay when he did, but I’m too much of an asshole for that.

Settled between the buildings of his new condo, I aim my silenced Glock at the back of his head and purposely miss. I like the hunt. And furthermore, I want Mills’s heart to burst in his ribcage in fear.

I want him to know it’s me.

He might be a fucker, but he’s not a completely stupid one. He’ll know when he’s being gunned down and by who.

So when he begins to run towards his black BMW to make his escape, the curl of a smile resonates off my face.

You see, I like more of a show, and shooting someone is mundane and typical. I want to tear Mills apart into small pieces, and while torturing him would be ideal, the looming consequences of B723 attempting to save him hovered over my head.

Mills hops into his car, slamming the door with Kyson more than likely on the other line of his cell when he hears it.

The motherfuckerhearsit.

The moment he turned the ignition to his car, he heard the click. The tick of the bomb that would trigger its five-second countdown.

Mills throws open the door and sprints out, causing me to follow and pull myself from the casted shadows of my spot.

I could chase him or continue to gun his ass down from afar, but I’m not looking for a swarm of cops to surround the area when someone calls to report the explosion.

No, I want him to live in dread.

Or not.

I move, watching him start for the wooded area behind the parking lot with his phone still attached to his ear.

It’s another step I anticipated him taking should he continue to be the bane of my existence and catch on to my first plan.

The car blows, scattering pieces of metal and glass. It’s ear-piercing and a waste of a nice-looking ride, but collateral damage is what comes with revenge plans sometimes.

Opening up my truck, I let Armageddon loose, as I command, “Revier.”

Hunt.

My German Shepherd takes off, tracking down my target, who used to be someone I would protect with my own life.

Now I just want to take his.

Taking my time, I retrieve a small bag from the backseat and follow my dog into the woods, hitting the edge when I hear Armageddon bark that he’s located Mills.

It doesn’t matter that my dog knows him, it’s the strict command to find what I want and keep it there until I arrive.

I sprint through the trees and brush, praying for Mills’s sake that he doesn’t have a gun to shoot Armageddon, or I’m going to make it that much more painful for him.

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