Erica steps over the scattered limbs like they’re petals, leans into Gerald’s face.
“And the best part?” she whispers. “You’re going to die knowing it wasmewho orchestrated every piece of this.”
I tighten my grip.
“Any last words, old man?”
Gerald spits blood.
Erica smiles.
And the Devils of Cliffside deliver the sentence.
“Andyou,” Erica’s voice drips venom as she snatches the silver letter-opener from Gerald’s desk, “can keep him company in hell.”
The blade flashes. It slides into Tiffany’s carotid with a wet hiss, then rips sideways. Blood fans across the study’s walnut paneling; Tiffany gurgles, staggers, collapses. Erica watches her sister’s last twitches with cold, clinical interest.
Wells whistles. “Pretty.”
I step past them, boot on Gerald’s spine, and force him to watch his mistress drown in red. “You’ve got front-row seats, old man. Enjoy the show.”
Gerald scrambles, hands slick, trying to pull Tiffany into his lap. “Tiff…Tiffany, breathe, baby.”
Karter swings the duffel. Colt’s severed head rolls out and thumps into Gerald’s knees. Court’s torso follows, a grotesque puzzle missing pieces.
He falls apart, literally and figuratively. “Colt? Court?No.They were supposed to-”
“Walk away?” I finish, squeezing his throat until his eyes bulge. “Little princes thought they could raid the Devils’ vault. They got graduation gifts instead.”
Dash leans in, mask glowing neon X’s. “And Daddy dearest ordered the caper. Congratulations: you murdered your own blood.”
Gerald sobs, snot and gore mixing. “Why? How could you?”
“Because you touched what’s ours.” Erica wipes the blade on her dress, eyes gleaming. “And because you fucked me over, Gerald. Repeatedly. Now ninety-five percent of your empire is mine, and the last five is about to burn.”
I haul Gerald upright, chair legs scraping. “Two paths, Carmichael.Dienow, fast, clean, anonymous. Or live,crippled, obedient, our mouthpiece. You’ll preach the new order, Devils rule, everyone else prays we don’t notice them.”
He stares at the butchered remnants of his dynasty, then at Erica, who’s already walking out to claim her new fortune. Defeated, hollow: “I…choose life.”
“Life’s expensive.” I jab a syringe into his neck, thallium cocktail. “First payment, pain.”
He slurs, paralyzed. Eyes roll while Karter and Wells duct-tape him to the oak chair. Dash douses the curtains with accelerant, Onyx rigs the doors.
When the timer hits zero, flames will kiss his skin just as the metal starts shredding his nerves. Slow roast.
Gage’s phone goes live, underground stream, ten-thousand eager viewers. Masks lit, we form a half-circle behind Gerald’s convulsing body.
“Cliffside,” I announce, voice warped through the modulator, “behold consequence. Gerald Carmichael, thief, trafficker,coward, sent blood to steal from Devils. We returned the blood. We kept the heads. Your move.”
Gage cuts the feed. Gasoline splashes.
Outside, engines idle. The estate behind us blooms orange, then white-hot. A single, ragged scream rises, then crackles out.
“Back to the asylum,” I say, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Tonight we drink to extinction.”
Karter laughs, blood still spattered across his boots. “And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” I grin beneath the mask, “we start on thereallist.”
