Page 75 of Dark Torment

“You won’t get away with this,” he spits out angrily.

“Oh, I will. But we aren’t there quite yet.” I wave the gun at him while tossing my arm in the direction of the living room.

He starts to visibly shake, but does as directed until the chair is placed where it needs to be.

I’d already grabbed some rope from his garage and stored it under his bar, figuring it would be the one thing he wouldn’t destroy since it housed his escape. I was right.

“Now what?” he smirks at me, and I fully understand where Ben got his idiocy from. Olivia must have gotten her smarts from her mother because, honestly. Even drunk he has to realize I’m about to kill him. Yet he’s taunting me?

“Now, you’re going to go open the bottom drawer of your bar and grab the rope I put there earlier. Then come back.”

“It’s not possible,” he growls angrily.

“Just fucking do it. You’re irritating me,” I snap. I’m playing the crazy and unhinged character to a tee, but I’m not angry at all. I’m quite enjoying this right now.

He makes a sound of frustration before stomping over to the bar and whipping the drawer out. I know the moment he sees the rope because his entire body freezes.

I’m guessing that, right about now, it’s working through his alcohol riddled brain just how planned this actually is.

“I—” He cuts himself off, staring at the rope as if it will burn him when he touches it.

“Pick it up, Philip,” I say quietly, enjoying the sudden fear emanating off of him.

When he picks it up, he notices the noose I’ve already crafted on the one end, and his entire body convulses.

“No one is going to believe I committed suicide,” he hisses, still staring down at the rope in his hands.

“We’ll get to that in a moment. Walk back over to the chair and put the noose around your neck,” I say, waiting patiently for him to move.

As he moves back to me, he shoots a glare my way that might make a lesser man fear him. Not me.

“You’re a goddamn lawyer. Why are you risking everything to do this?” he questions, and I bark out a laugh.

God, that’s good. I needed that. “You really think you’re the first person I’ve killed, Phil? Can I call you that? I feel like we’re on a nickname basis given the intimacy of these final moments and all,” I taunt, and he huffs out a breath. “Though I have been a very busy man for the last several weeks.”

He watches me with annoyance before things start to slowly click in his brain. “You,” he seethes, and I smile wider.

“Me,” I reply, like a giddy fucking teenager. “Necklace, Phil. It’s perfect for you,” I growl, shoving the gun into his temple.

“Why not just shoot me?” he asks, and I chuckle.

“That’s too quick, and I need to make sure they don’t think you’ve been murdered.” I shrug, watching and waiting as he drapes the noose over his head.

I remove the gun, still holding it as I tighten the rope around his neck. He makes a quick lunge for me that I expected, and quickly move to the side, wrenching on the noose until he chokes.

“Now, Phil. That was kind of idiotic, don’t you think?” I tsk him, and he chokes more as I pull him back toward me. “Up on the chair now,” I say in a singsong voice.

The end is so close I can taste it. I can feel the fear and anger coming from him as he moves his body onto the chair.

“You killed my son,” he states as I throw the rope above us so that it’s hanging over the banister before pulling it taut, tying it to a hook on the stone fireplace. Taking the time to make sure he’s choking and standing on his toes on the chair.

I need to make it look like he did this himself, after all. That means I can’t be the one holding the rope when the chair drops.

“Y—you can’t do this,” he croaks out past the rope pulling against his neck, and I smile.

Once the rope is perfectly secure, and I know it will hold, I turn back to him. “You think so? You deserve worse. You deserve worse than any of the fuckers I’ve killed recently,” I spit, letting my anger out.

“Why?” he hisses, and I smile.

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