This.
Right.
Here.
Now, an innocent woman, who had her whole life ahead of her, was dead.
“Pull it together. You have to pull it together. This is what he wants. He wants you devastated. He’s going to hit hard, and you opened this can of worms.FUCKINGclose it!” she said, angrily.
Elizabeth picked up her phone and sent Gene a text. What she needed was information. She knew Devon was a sick fuck, but she also knew he’d want to deliver those flowers personally.
He’d want the satisfaction of looking the person in the face as they took his death gift and smelled them.
If he delivered them, she’d been right.
He was inDamascus.
‘Get me the video of the flowers being delivered. I want to see everything when I land. I want to see who did the job, and if it was him! ASAP!’
She sent it, and she was physically shaking from rage. She’d bypassed the mourning and went right to explosive anger. He’d pushed her into a dangerous place.
And he’d regret it.
You didn’t back an animal into a corner. When you did, it was going to lash out and do wild things.
Now, she was that animal, and she was dangerous.
When she got the text back, she read it and didn’t reply to Gene. Now wasn’t the time to cry.
Now was the time to inflict the most pain possible to the biggest asshole on her radar.
‘Are you okay?’
Was she?
No.
Would she be?
No.
This was breaking her in ways no other killer had ever been able to do before, and that was saying a lot. This was a push into dangerous territory.
The last time she felt this helpless, it was years ago, and she didn’t like going to that point in time.
Now, she was forced to make the ultimate choice.
Keep playing the hand she was dealt, and have more people die, or let Devon Slater win.
She was a ticking bomb, and it was only a matter of time before she went off.
When the door to the cabin opened, in came Raphael, and he looked concerned.
“Gene texted me to check on you. Are you okay, Boo?” he asked, clearly seeing she wasn’t.
Elizabeth shook her head.
She.
