“Will be safer once you’re dead.”
When the twisting of the shank only forces a handful of tears to slide down his cheeks, I withdraw it, then jab it back in over and over and over again, only stopping when there’s no doubt the light in his eyes will never return.
His shallow, pain-filled breaths fan my cheek when I whisper in his ear, “I was sentenced to life behind bars for a murder I didn’t commit, so it’s only fair I do the crime that fits the time.”
A wheezy breath escapes Agent Moses’s mouth when I leave nothing to chance. I’ve heard stories of men surviving bullet wounds to the head, have seen prisoners back in the yard only a week after multiple stab wounds to their stomachs, but I’ve yet to hear a single account of a man surviving a fatal stab wound to the heart. He’ll be dead before the medics arrive, and I’ll be one step closer to seeing Demi again.
As I slowly come out of the rage Ezra used with the hope it would pull the wool over the judge’s eyes during my trial, Agent Moses slumps to the floor. I should feel guilt while looking at a man who’s been bludgeoned to death, but I don’t.
What I said earlier was true. Up until today, I wasn’t a murderer.
I killed to protect Demi.
I claimed the life of another man to save my own.
Just like soldiers on the battlefield killing the enemy, it isn’t wrong if it has a purpose.
Revenge isn’t a purpose, but when it’s the only thing keeping you going, take from it what you may. Furthermore, it only took counting the beats in Agent Moses’s neck when he spotted Justine today to know who he’d focus his attention on if I stopped jumping on cue. Justine has been through enough. I couldn’t put her in more danger.
After discarding the bloody shank next to Agent Moses’s slumped form, I spin on my heels and exit the room. I make it halfway down the corridor that leads to the main hub of the prison when my name is spoken by a husky and familiar female voice.
I spin around to face my greeter so fast, the hope filling my head is pushed aside for dizziness. I wouldn’t forget Demi’s voice in a million years. My veins are just too thick with adrenaline to recognize the distinct differences between the two female voices.
Fortunately, the boost of testosterone keeping me upright doesn’t affect my eyesight. The woman standing in front of me has hair as dark as Demi’s once was, and her eyes are a similar color, but Demi had the face of an angel, and Agent Machini’s position has aged her more than her years on this earth.
“You’re too late,” I mumble, my words barely legible through the guilt of not accepting her offer to get Demi out on my behalf. If I had done that, Demi would still be here. “Demi is dead. I killed her.”
Agent Machini scarcely shakes her head before she takes a staggering step back. It dawns on me how much of Agent Moses’s blood is on my hands when she breathlessly asks, “What did you do, Maddox?” Before I can answer her, she cranks her neck to the room I just left. “No!” she pushes out with a sob.
When she glances back my way, she looks more concerned for me than Agent Moses. I understand why. He’s dead. He can’t hurt her. She can’t issue the same guarantee for me. To her, I’m a cold-blooded murderer. She has no clue I only gained that title mere seconds ago.
The heaves of Agent Machini’s chest match mine when I issue her the faintest grin before I continue with my travels. I was caught red-handed—literally—and although I’ll never feel guilty about killing Agent Moses, only a monster would be content walking around with the blood of a dead man on his hands and not feel sick.
I’m not one of them.
I’m just a man who wanted to do a little good for his community.
29
Agent Macy Machini
Istand frozen in the underbelly of Wallens Ridge State Penitentiary, shocked and confused. I came here to throw a life raft to a man drowning in grief. I’ll leave unsure if he is a victim or a perpetrator.
Maddox Walsh isn’t a bad man. His childhood crush saw him thrust into a world he knew nothing about, then he was propositioned by a man he would have instantly trusted because his parents raised him to respect the law.
He doesn’t belong here, but now his grief has left him with no other option but to remain here—grief I forced him to endure. That places Agent Moses’s murder on my shoulders as much as it does Maddox’s. I didn’t inflict a single stab wound to Agent Moses’s body, but I knew about his corruption and the torment he was putting Maddox through, but instead of speaking out against a bully who had his division too scared to speak, I trusted that justice would eventually prevail.
As I look at Agent Moses’s lifeless form slumped in a non-surveillance, soundproof room, I begin to wonder if it finally did. He’s everything that is wrong with the system. From the police officers falsifying witness statements to the judges who accept payments for unfair sentencing and the housing of inmates, Agent Moses had his hand in every piece of the pie. And now, stupidly, his years with the Bureau will see him honored as a hero instead the immorally corrupt man he was.
Unless…
Before I can talk myself out of it and needing to move quickly before I lose the chance to implement my ruse, I pace into the room that smells a strange mix of blood and floral perfume. I close the door behind me before forcefully ripping at my blouse. Once the cotton material is hanging limply off my chest, I grab Agent Moses’s hand and drag his nails across my inner thigh, then I make him painfully squeeze my breasts.
With the simpler tasks ticked off my list, I move toward the harder, more painful items. It takes three attempts to slam the only object in the room onto my hand hard enough to shatter bones, then I headbutt the wall like I’m unaware of the damage a knock to the head can cause.
Demi flatlined in the jet because of a whack to the head. She died three times during a ten-minute operation, and when we finally landed, no amount of chest compressions could bring her back.
Demi Petretti no longer exists.
