Page 131 of Undisputed Player
Damon passed out from the pain this time. Connor slapped him awake, leaving a bright red handprint on Damon's cheek. When he came to, Adrian was already cauterizing the wound, the flame dancing across the severed stump.
"Times up," Adrian hummed, moving to the index finger. “Shouldn’t have passed out.”
"No, no, no," Damon babbled, his remaining fingers twitching helplessly. "I'll sign now, I'll sign everything!"
"You had your chance," I growled coldly. "This is for every night they couldn't sleep because of you."
Adrian didn’t give a fuck whether Damon agreed to sign or not—he was set on getting his piranhas some treats for the next few months. He would have removed Damon’s fingers regardless.
“Please," he whispered, his voice broken and choked. “Please let me sign.”
I tapped the tablet in front of Damon and held out the stylus for his right hand. He shook as he reached for it, his severed left hand a mangled mess of cauterized stumps.
The signature was nearly illegible, smeared with his pain and fear,but it was legally binding. Adrian checked over the documents, immediately uploading them to his servers.
"Beautiful," he praised, tucking the tablet away. "Now for the main event."
He reached into the special case we planned and produced a vial, eyes bright with anticipation. “This,” he held the clear liquid to the light, “Is heroin. Laced with fentanyl.”
I watched Damon’s reaction carefully. On the plane, Adrian dug up Giselle’s medical records, and she had died fromthis—Heroin laced with fentanyl.
I moved closer, voice cold. “She wasn’t trying to die. She was trying to escape. But you killed her.”
Damon’s lips parted, useless and soundless. His tongue flicked out, like he wanted to taste the lie before he said it.
“She didn’t know,” I murmured, each word a punch to the heart. “Estelle thought it was her fault. That her sister overdosed, and she didn’t stop it. But it wasyou.You cut the batch. You laced it. You left Giselle for dead.”
Damon shook his head now. Violently. “No—sheaskedfor it, she—sheused,I didn’t?—”
“You think that makes it better?” I snapped. “You gave a struggling addict poison and walked away like it didn’t matter.”
I crouched in front of him so we were at eye-level again, more disgusted by him with each second that passed. I wanted him to see exactly why he was dying.
“You tried to take everything from Estelle. So now I’m taking everything from you.”
Damon started to scream, loud, but Adrian slid the needle right in. "Sweet dreams," he whispered, depressing the plunger slowly. "This won’t be euphoric for you.”
The effect was immediate. Damon's pupils dilated, his breathing became shallow and erratic. He writhed. Eyes rolling, breath turning shallow, hands jerking against the restraints. It hit fast. Very fast.
Fentanyl doesn’t take its time.
His breathing stalled, his remaining fingers clawing at the air.
Connor glared down with clinical detachment. “Feel it? This is what a seizure feels like.”
But I couldn't let him die like this. I couldn't let him slip away into unconsciousness so easily.
I drew my silver gun, the weight familiar in my palm. The metal was cold, comforting in its finality. My hands shook as I raised it, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of what this meant.
"You destroyed their life," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "You tried to steal her son. You tried to murder the woman I love."
Damon's eyes focused on me through the haze of drugs, confusion, and terror warring in his mind. He was dying, slipping away, but he could still see me. Still understand what was happening.
"This is for Estelle," I whispered, pressing the barrel to his temple. "For Leo. For Giselle. For every life you've poisoned."
"Go to hell.”
I pulled the trigger.
