I thought this chapter of my life was over, buried.
I could leave it alone. For years, I’ve done everything I can to stay out of this life. To stay away from the evil that lurks in the night. Not because I’m afraid of the darkness hurting me. Not because I’m afraid that the man making the threat will actually succeed. Even if he did succeed, I’m not afraid of death.
No, I’ve stayed away from the darkness because I haven’t wanted to become the villain I’m capable of being. Once the darkness surrounds me, I’ll no longer be the princess. I’ll become the evil queen. Once I let it in, there is no way to get it out. That’s why I’ve put up walls around my heart, to keep the vile out, the wickedness I can become.
But why?
Why can’t I turn into the evil queen?
My friends and family are gone. The only man in my life is more than capable of taking care of himself.
I shouldn’t go back to this life.
I should crumple the letter up and toss it into the fireplace to burn.
I should forget the threat until it comes true.
But I feel the walls lowering around my heart. All the men in my life are able to stay safe and protect those they love, because they don’t fight the worst parts of themselves.
Enzo is a controlling bastard, who rules his world by loving Kai.
Zeke protects those he loves no matter the cost it inflicts on himself.
And Langston hurts others to protect himself.
All three men have done more than survived; they’ve become kings. They’ve languished and destroyed their enemies. They’ve gained enough power that no man dares to make threats like this.
It’s time I try their tactics.
I toss the rest of the scotch back into my throat before slamming the glass down on my desk with a sinful grin across my red-painted lips.
The evil that I locked in my heart is free. I’m going to use every bit of its power to take care of this threat myself, so no man or woman will ever threaten me again.
2
Langston
I sit in the darkness.
I love the darkness, but I hate waiting.
I’m not a patient man. I leave that to my friend, Zeke.
But my excited anticipation keeps me seated in this pine smelling office. I glance around the room as my eyes quickly adjust to the lack of light.
The office is just what you’d expect from a rich prick with no taste. A large mahogany desk with an oversized office chair in the center of the main wall with the large oval-shaped window behind the chair. Why wouldn’t you want to look out the window when you work? It’s all for show.
The same with the large bookshelf filled with self-help books, classics, and business books. None look like they’ve ever been read.
There is a piece of art by Picasso finishing the room. But I know how big the man’s bank account is. At best, it’s a print; at worst, it’s a complete knock off. A fake—just like this room, just like the man.
And then I spot the one thing in the room that looks like it has been used—the liquor cart.
I get up from my chair and pick up the bottle of scotch sitting on the cart and read the label. Highland Park Orcadian—an expensive bottle that’s been aged a long time.
My eyebrows shoot up in pleasant surprise as I pour myself a glass. I walk back to my chair, my wait greatly improved now that I have an excellent glass of scotch to keep me company.
I take a sip and then spew the liquid everywhere as I lift the glass to eye level to get a better look. I sniff the liquid, and it smells as retched as it tastes. There is no way this is what’s listed on the label.