Page 100 of Devil's Thirst

“Tell me about your connection to The Society,” I instruct calmly.

His head hangs low, his chest heaving with panted breaths. “All I know is the shipping mogul Wellington was under investigation—a woman had been taken from his home after being trafficked. The case was a mess. Our guys fucked up all the evidence. I knew we didn’t have a leg to stand on, so when the Brooks woman came to me and offered a trade, it was an easy choice. The trial never would have happened anyway.”

“Wellington goes free, and you get to rape a seventeen-year-old girl. A win-win, is that right?”

Talbot starts sniveling and sobbing. “Her mother assured me … it was fine, and the girl never … seemed upset. It wasn’t like she fought me or anything.”

I’m so enraged I can’t speak. Instead, I turn the machine back on and watch him writhe until he pisses himself. I don’t turn it off until he looks on the verge of passing out. The asshole in the chair starts gagging on his own vomit. I take my gun from its holster, point it at the choking man and put a bullet between his eyes. I don’t need him anyway. He was a loose end and a convenient lesson to motivate Talbot. The attorney general is the only one who matters.

His story aligns with what we suspected. I’m glad to have confirmation, but I still need one more thing.

He’s panting while he weeps, his feet standing in a pool of his own urine. “Please, no more. Please.”

“We’re not quite done. I need one more thing from you. You told Amelie you had videos of her and her sister. Where are they?”

“I lied,” he blurts without a filter. “I swear, it was a lie. Her mother told me her sister had done the same thing—that it was some sort of ritual in their family. I think she was trying to assure me that it was normal for them. That’s as much as I knew, but when she died and people started disappearing, I panicked. Telling her that I had videos of her and her sister was the only thing I could think of to keep her quiet, short of killing her. I’m not a killer. I’m not a killer.” He breaks down again, sobbing, snot and saliva dripping from his lips.

When I reach for the battery, he cries out. “Please, if you’re going to kill me, just do it. You already marked the bullet. Just finish it.”

I walk closer and slowly circle him. There’s nothing like uncertainty to enhance the mindfuck of torture, and I want to make sure he leaves here with emotional scars worthy of his actions.

“Even if I were planning on killing you, I’d never let you off so easily. I’m afraid I made a promise to my fiancée that I’d let the justice system do its job where you’re concerned.”

“That what you call this?” he whines before instantly retreating with a litany of apologies.

I glare at him, waiting for his stupidity to run dry. When he finally quiets, I continue. “I’ll let the feds do their thing now that I’ve had the opportunity of a private word with you because I want you to remember this day and know that if you so much as think about Amelie or her sister, I will hunt down and erase not only you but your entire bloodline. The fact that you continue to breathe is only because she wills it. Don’t ever forget that.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I’m done talking. I flip on the battery and text Renzo that I’m ready for help with cleanup. He tells me he’s got someone on the way. By the time I’m done typing my reply, Talbot is unconscious. I flip off the machine and head outside to wait.

The old me would light up a cigarette and hold in that first lungful of smoke until it burned. The temptation is still there, but I won’t go back to it. Besides, knowing I’ve done my job and kept Amelie safe is better than any nicotine high. I feel like I’ve proven myself worthy. I’ve learned from my past mistakes, and for the first time ever, I can honestly say I’m proud of the man I’ve become.

Now, when I take Amelie as my wife, I can tell her she no longer has anything to fear. While she and Lina were strong enough to risk videos of themselves being leaked, I know it still worried them. No one wants to risk that sort of public exposure and violation. My gift to her is the assurance that she’s finally free. She can set her fears aside and know that I will always keep her safe.

One week later,we meet up with Oran and Lina, Conner and Noemi, Gloria, Tommy, and Freya, of course, at a garden rooftop for an intimate ceremony.

“Mrs. Mancini, you take my breath away.” I hold her hands beneath an archway built of swaying ivy and marvel at my good fortune.

“I haven’t said I do yet,” she teases me.

I shrug. “A technicality.”

Oran cuts in. “One we’re about to remedy. You two ready?” As our officiant, he stands to one side of us while the rest of ourfamily forms a semi-circle on the other. Everyone in our families always gets married in churches, so this wedding is unorthodox, but so are we. This is our big day, and we’re doing it our way.

Besides, it’s not like we have parents who will fuss about the location and traditions.

“Absolutely,” I say without hesitation.

Mellie grins at me. She’s truly stunning, having chosen a 1950s Hollywood starlet look with an ivory sheath dress, hair styled in perfectly smooth waves, and topped with a small fastener hat with a delicate white birdcage veil. Every inch of her is perfection, including the bright red lipstick I can’t wait to see circling my cock.

“I know we’re all incredibly honored to be here today to share in this special occasion. At this time, the couple will exchange vows.” Oran agreed to officiate under the express condition that he wouldn’t have to wax poetically about love and commitment. We assured him our aim was short and sweet, heavy on the short.

We wrote our own vows and haven’t shown them to one another. Our relationship is too unique to fit into a cookie-cutter script.

“Amelie, I vow to follow you to the ends of the earth and love you throughout the journey. To live my life dedicated to your happiness and to strive each day to be worthy of your love. I will honor you, protect you, and keep you all the days of my life.” I know I’ve done well when she has to blink away tears before she can recite her own vows.

“I choose you, Sante, to be no other than who you are. To grow with you and fall more in love with you each day. I trust in your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me. I vow to love and cherish you so long as we both shall live.” The pride and adoration in her voice shreds me. I had no idea a few simple sentences could have me so choked up.

“Do we have the rings?” Oran asks, eyes scanning our small group.

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