I bundled up Danika and we stepped outside into the crisp winter air. The leaves crunched beneath my feet as the chilly breeze carried the scent of snow in the air.
It was a beautiful day, but my thoughts remained clouded with worry.
We walked to the park, a place that Danny and I found shortly after we moved here. The memories of our brief times here together flooded my mind. I remembered his infectious laughter as he tried to teach Danika to swing, his patience when she struggled, and his cheers when she finally succeeded. The park was filled with the echoes of our recent past, a testament to the bond we shared.
I sat on a bench and watched my daughter play on the swings as Kansas hovered nearby. I pulled out my phone and checked for any messages or missed calls from Danny. Nothing. The emptiness of the screen mirrored the emptiness I felt inside.
I sent him another text, a simple “Are you okay?” hoping this time, he would respond.
The minutes passed slowly, and we eventually made our way back home, where I went through the motions of our evening routine. Dinner, bath time, bedtime stories. Danika’s mood shifted, seeing my moments of solace as my mind constantly wandered back to Danny.
Night fell and I tucked my daughter into bed. She looked up at me with her innocent eyes then pointed to a picture of her and Danny. She wanted her papa. So did I. I smiled and told her he was busy with work and would be home soon.
It was the only answer I could give her, even though I wasn’t sure it was the truth.
I returned to the living room, where Kansas sat on the couch, his eyes focused on his phone as he read something. The apartment was quiet. The only sound was the ticking of the clock, a reminder of the passing of time.
My thoughts returned to the conversations I had with Kansas and Storm. The way they had brushed off my concerns, their reassurances that Danny was fine. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was as if their words were hiding a deeper truth, one they didn’t want to share.
I thought back to the last time I saw Danny. He seemed tense, almost reserved. I tried to talk to him about plans I made for the weekend, but he never engaged. His mind was elsewhere, but now, his silence spoke volumes.
Reaching for my phone, I called Reaper, hoping to get some information. When I heard the automated voice telling me the number I dialed had been disconnected and was no longer in service, I knew something was definitely wrong, especially when Storm rushed into the apartment and said, “Kansas, we need to talk.”
F.I.R.E.
Miami, Florida.
The room was cloaked in an eerie silence, the only sound being the whispered muffles of their cries behind the duct tape I secured around their mouths. Sitting on the bed, I watched them intently as they desperately tried to plead and beg for their lives. Their faces morphed into a mask of fear as soon as their reality sunk deep, letting them know that these were their final moments.
I hated them. I hated what they were, what they believed in, what they participated in. Their greed overshadowed everything in their lives. Their want for more led them down a path of destruction and now it was time to pay the piper. My anger had been simmering for far too long, fueled by their insatiable desire for power and control. They had trampled over anyone who stood in their way, blinded by their own ambitions and deaf to the cries of those they hurt.
Their actions were unforgivable and the consequences inevitable. It was with a sense of grim satisfaction that I watched them squirm, knowing that justice was about to be served. They had thought themselves invincible, untouchable, but in this room, their illusions were shattered. The reality of their fate was inescapable.
As I sat there, a silent observer to their pleas, I felt a strange calm wash over me. It was a calm born of inevitability, the knowledge that their reckoning was finally at hand. Their cries grew fainter, their struggles weaker and I knew that the moment of truth was drawing near.
The game they had played was a dangerous one and, in the end, they had lost. It was a game of deceit, betrayal, and misplaced trust. They had scorned those who cared, ignored the warnings and walked the perilous path, believing they would emerge unscathed.
The price for their sins was steep. They had danced with shadows, whispered with darkness and now, the darkness had come to claim its due. I felt no pity, just a cold resolve. They had made their choices and now they would pay the ultimate price.
Time seemed to stretch infinitely while I sat there, a silent observer to their fate. The moonlight cast ghostly patterns through the window, illuminating the room with a pale, ethereal glow. It was a picture of tranquility, yet the air crackled with anticipation of what was to come.
As the minutes ticked by, my thoughts wandered to the events that had led to this moment. The lies they had told, the lives they had shattered, and the countless children they sold. Every action had a consequence and theirs had culminated in this nocturnal reckoning.
A deep breath filled my lungs as I steeled myself for what lay ahead. The calm before the storm was about to break and there would be no turning back. Their peace was an illusion, a fragile veneer that would soon crumble. The game was over, and the final move was mine to make.
I stepped forward, the shadows moving with me like silent companions. The weight of inevitability hung heavy in the air. They had played a good game, but ultimately, they had lost.
Now, it was time for them to pay for their sins.
In this room, under the watchful eye of the moon, justice would be served. The shadows had come to collect and their debt would be paid in full.
Walking over to the dresser, I picked up my machete, testing the weight of it in my hands as I turned to look at them.
Their eyes widened in fear as I approached, knowing this was it. Their time was up. Death had come to claim them. The room seemed to shrink, the walls pressed in with the weight of their impending doom. Whispers of their past victims echoed in the corners, a haunting reminder of the choices that had led them to this moment in time.
Tonight, their victims would rejoice in celebration, knowing that their nightmares would be no more. The echoes of their suffering would be silenced, replaced by the harmony of justice. A new dawn was breaking and with it, a promise of peace for those who had been wronged, because tonight the Devil was taking his due.
Contract completed. Benson Graves and Iris Hughes are dead.
