His jaw tightened behind the tape, eyes narrowing at me—not broken. Not yet. Angry. Calculating.
“You fucked with the wrong man,” I said quietly. “And now… you pay.”
I ripped the tape from his mouth, slow and brutal.
He sucked in a breath, straining uselessly against the ropes biting into his wrists and forced a thin, mocking smile. “Look at you,” he rasped. “Perfect. Ruthless. Exactly what I built.”
I stared at him.
“I created you,” he went on, voice rough but steady. “Without me, you’d be nothing.”
A humorless laugh left my throat. “You turned a child into a weapon and you want gratitude?”
His eyes flashed. “Without me you’d be some drunk in a factory, rotting in obscurity.”
“Maybe,” I said, stepping closer. “But my sister would still have her childhood.” I leaned in, voice low. “I’ll take the factory.”
His mouth tightened. “You owe me.”
“Oh, I know,” I replied calmly, letting my hand rest at my waist as I stepped closer, close enough for him to feel the weight of me looming over him. “That’s why I’m here. To settle the debt.”
That’s when something shifted in his face.
“Wait,” he said quickly, the edge finally cracking. “Wait. It wasn’t just me. There were others—”
I tilted my head slightly, studying him. “Pathetic. At least die with a shred of spine.”
“I’m not lying! I didn’t touch her! I was just part of the chain—I didn’t know—”
His words tripped over themselves. He was sobbing now.
“Please. Please. I have money—I can give you whatever you want. You don’t have to do this. Let me go. You can disappear, I’ll never come after you—”
I threw my head back and laughed.“You’ll be too dead to come after me. But don’t worry—I’ll find a way to drag your soul back for round two.”
“I’ll disappear then—I’ll leave the country—I’ll fake my death—I’ll do anything. Anything. Please. Don’t kill me…”
I just stared.
He was weeping now—openly, pathetically. The kind of weeping that strips a man of dignity. His nose ran. His voice cracked. He blubbered like a child caught stealing.
“I didn’t know—I didn’t mean to—”
I crouched again, the photo held between two fingers.
“Look at her. Last face you’ll ever see.”
His eyes locked on it and I saw the horror.
Then I braced my hands.
And drove both thumbs into his eyes.
He screamed, shrill and animal, twisting in the ropes as blood and fluid poured down his face. The sockets buckled. The soft wet pop beneath my thumbs was almost beautiful in its finality.
He thrashed, the restraints creaking beneath him. I held him steady against the table, grinding the delicate orbital bones into pulp.
His body convulsed. Spasmed. He wailed so loud it cut the air.
