A heart made of coal.
No embers.
No cinders.
The fire completely burned out.
Ily was dead.
And…I was done clinging to life hard enough for both of us.
I let go.
I put my existence in the hands of fate and had to laugh at how easy it was.
How fuckingeasyit was to drive away.
How convenient it was to find a bag in the trunk of my stolen car with spare clothes for a doctor who travelled often. He favoured black slacks and black shirts which suited me fine. We even wore the same sizes. Where I was going, I didn’t want colour. I didn’t want light.
The darkness seeped out of my skin and turned me as black as the borrowed clothes I wore. The beast inside me no longer had to crawl through my veins and search for a way free.
I let it take me over.
I sank deep into my rotten soul and gave in.
I stopped on the side of the road and input Q’s passcode into his phone. I pulled up the list of traffickers again. I ignored the endless ringing as he tried to contact me and put the stupid device on flight mode so he couldn’t get through.
Iitchedfor retribution.
I felt as if I’d tear myself apart if I didn’t tear someone else apart instead.
How lucky for me that a few names on Q’s little list lived in France.
I chose the first one. A man with a membership to a club called The Dolls.
I drove all night.
I pulled up outside his house at daybreak.
I knocked on his door with no weapons, no protection.
And fate once again intervened by delivering him right into my hands.
He was home alone.
Rambling about in a huge townhouse with a ridiculous giant poodle for company.
I didn’t bother to fake my way in.
I merely looked down the street, grabbed him by the throat, and shoved him inside before kicking the door closed.
He begged.
I remember that.
He fought and tried to run, but…that was the thing about a man fighting for their life and a man who’d lost his. My strength came from hell. My power from the ever after.
He was no match.