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It’s as if everyone is holding their breath as Logan reaches down and opens the cooler. The moment is suspenseful, especially since no one can see what he’s doing. I haven’t even seen what Tey has done with hisartwork.While everyone is watching Logan, Dom strolls around the table on silent feet with his gun still trained on Franco, but he stops right behind Alderson just as the floral arrangement from Tey is placed on the center of the table with a loud bang.
Diana lets out an ear-splitting scream just as Alderson makes a choked sound of horror. My gaze flicks towards Franco, and my eyebrows shoot up as he calmly stares at the centerpiece without blinking, the file crumpled in his fist. His only sign that he’s furious is the pulse thudding on his neck and tense shoulders. He suddenly reaches out and slaps Diana with the back of his hand. Her screaming is cut off so suddenly that I can hear Alderson sobbing in his seat.
“Quiet! Or I’ll make sure you can’t make another noise,” Franco threatens in a furious voice, his eyes coolly staring down at Diana. She quickly shuts up and bends her head down until she’s staring at her tightly clasped hand in her lap.
“M-my bab-baby girl!” Alderson chokes out behind his sobs and only says sitting because Dom is holding him down with his hand on the judge's shoulder.
“The world is a better place without Paris. You gotta hand it to Tey, he really has a unique way of expressing his art work.” Logan leans back in his seat, his long legs spread out like a king in his royal court.
My stomach is queasy because Tey really outdid himself by making a statement with Paris’s decapitated head. The sight is gruesome yet oddly beautiful. I think I might be losing my mind. Her lips are forever stuck into a stiff smile, her eyes closed as if she’s sleeping, and she has a very gray complexion. No one can mistake her for sleeping, though, since, well, she’s only a head on a silver platter glued to her perfectly cut neck.
The bullet hole on her forehead is surrounded by a heart of paint, something like face paint you would see at a carnival. It’s hard to look away; it’s a sight that sends shivers down your spine, but the flowers are so pretty that you can’t take your eyes off Paris. The part of her head where thebullet exited left a big, gaping hole, but Tey killed it with flowers.
White roses.
Rebirth and innocence.
It’s perfectly ruined by the splashes of dark red blood staining the flowers.
"Are you okay, mama?” Dom asks from across the table, his deep brown eyes looking at me with concern as a few tears drip down my cheek.
“Oh! Yes. It’s just… really beautiful in a deadly poetic way. Ya know?” I hastily wipe my tears and grin slightly to let him know I’m okay before gesturing to proceed with the killing.
“I can’t wait to tell Tey his art made you cry.” Logan chuckles in amusement and reaches for my hand that just wiped away tears, kissing my knuckles before standing up while buttoning his deep blue suit jacket.
“Dom. If you would, please. I’d like to make it to fight night and fuck our girl until she can’t walk.” Logan nods toward Dom, who grabs a fork off the table over the whimpering judge's shoulder.
Without hesitating, he plunges the fork into Alderson’s neck, right over an artery, and pulls it out just as fast. A spray of red gushes out of his neck as he gurgles out a cry, showering Diana like a waterfall with warm blood. She screams again with her eyes squeezed shut and a mouth full of blood. She looks like a scene from the movie‘Carrie.’It’s only a couple seconds before her screaming stops as she passes out and topples out of her chair, face-planting on the floor out cold. All the while, Dom has his gun still trained on Franco; he makes him watch the judge slowly choke on his own blood. We all watch as Alderson takes his lastbreath. He slumps forward and dies, his face ending up in a salad.
“Where did you get this file?” Franco asks in a quiet voice, his gaze pinned on Logan with intensity as he holds up the real evidence of his wife’s death.
“Your business partner keeps all his dirty work on file. How does it feel to know that you’ve been shaking hands with the man who killed your wife? My mother!” Logan shouts suddenly as years of rage unleash itself, towering over his father and getting right in his face.
“I didn’t know,” Franco whispers, staring wide-eyed at Logan. “I didn’t know! He murdered my Helen!” Franco yells out with a haunting, grief-filled pain that causes my skin to break out in goosebumps.
I almost, and I mean almost, feel bad for him. Only he deserves this for all the years of hurting his son over and over again. He took an oath to protect and serve but ended up bending and molding into someone evil while turning a blind eye to all the real answers to his pain. He’s ruined lives. Killed without remorse to those who didn’t deserve it. He made his son hate him and almost made Logan into a villain who would be in so deep that he’d never be able to leave.
“I thought about killing you so many times. You haven’t been my father for years. You became a complete stranger to me once Mom died. I want you to suffer. You're going to live with the knowledge that you’ve been lying in bed with her murderer this whole time. I’m no longer your son,” Logan says, his tone harsh and low as his chest heaves.
Franco groans, the sound of pain filled with agony as if he’s just finding out his wife died all over again. A broken man sits in his chair, staring up at his son with watery eyes.
“Logan. I’m sorry-,” Franco cuts off with a loud gasp as he looks down at his stomach in disbelief on his face.
My chair clatters to the floor as I stand in shock with my hand over my mouth and tears blurring my vision. Logan stands there panting, his right hand dripping blood around the steak knife he’s holding in a tight grip.
I hadn’t even seen him grab the knife off the dining table. He appears almost manic-looking as he stabs Franco two times in the stomach. His eyes are hard, focused on Franco with pure hatred. I blink rapidly, clearing the tears, and slowly approach him, my heart breaking for him.
“Logan?” I softly whisper, gently placing my hand on his arm and gaining his attention off his slumped-over father who’s groaning in pain.
He looks down at me, confused, and his eyes are distant with scrunched brows.
“Tillie,” Logan gasps like he can’t breathe and draws me into his arms until my cheek is plastered to his suit jacket.
He squeezes tight as if he’s afraid to let go, as if he’ll drown without me keeping him afloat. I just hold him tighter to let him know I’m here.
“It’s okay. You're okay,” I say over and over into his neck as I stand on my tiptoes so only he can hear me.
He says nothing except kisses my forehead, drawing in a shuddering breath as he straightens.
