“I’m not giving you that satisfaction.” I press the gun to his temple. “As much as I’d love to see you buried beneath the filth you created, I’d rather you rot. I want you to wake up every day in agony. I want your pain to be slow.”
“Stop grandstanding,” he snaps. “You’re no better than I am.”
“You hired someone to set that fire at my estate,” I say coldly. “You killed people who had nothing to do with this just to make me look like a monster who’d murder his own guests.”
“That was years ago,” he says, shrugging with difficulty. “Didn’t work. Has nothing to do with what’s happening here.”
“I disagree.”
I strike him across the face with the barrel, then step back and fire one more round—this time into his other shoulder. He screams, collapsing against the legs of the table like a man who knows he’s being kept alive on purpose.
The sirens are closer now. Voices shouting commands outside.
I leave him there.
“Put your hands up!” a voice blares through the megaphone. “Put your hands up and walk forward!”
I oblige, stepping through the front door and into the chaos.
“Stay right there, sir! Stay right there!”
Do they hear themselves?I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Miss Poole approaches with two officers flanking her. Her eyes narrow the moment she sees me.
“Cuff him,” she orders. “For what should be the last and final time.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” I say as one of the officers secures my wrists behind my back.
“You think you’re walking away from murder charges?”
“I prefer the phrasefly away, and yes.” I glance sideways at her. “Nice seeing you again. My lawyer will be meeting us shortly, so I wouldn’t waste any time with your questions.”
“Mr. Rochester,” she says, sharp as ever. “I can personally guarantee you won’t be getting away this time.”
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’m going to enjoy every second of the years you spend in custody.”
“I recorded everything using one of the trackers you gave Miss Jane.” I nod to my coat pocket. “Last I checked, there’s no statute of limitations on murder.”
“Exactly.”
“Then I’ll be out in an hour,” I say. “This was clearly self-defense.”
“I still have questions.”
“I’m sure you do,” I reply. “But we both know I won’t be answering them.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Mr. Rochester.”
“I experienced sixteen wrongs.” I meet her gaze head-on. “I barely broke even with what I did today.”
“But the fire at your estate?—”
“I didn’t stop it,” I say as they guide me toward the patrol car. “But I never started it.”
End of Episode 13
