Page 38 of Merciless

Her face blanched. Oh, she’s scared now.

“That isn’t a life sentence.”

“As I’ve said before. You can do whatever you want when you’re filthy fucking rich. Money is power, and no thanks to you, I have that in abundance.” I pivoted for the door, banging my fist against the metal frame.

“You can’t do this!” she yelled, on the verge of shattering.

And being the opportunist I was, I decided to push her over the edge. “Any last words, Nikita?” I sneered.

The transformation was beautiful to behold, as if her outer casing fell away to show the true evil beneath.

All sense evaporated as Nikita snapped and flew for me, her sharp talons aiming for my throat. She didn’t get far, William holding her back, struggling to keep her contained as utter hopelessness permeated from him.

He was completely destroyed, his face a teary mess as he held his wife back from attacking his son.

I gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Let her go, Dad. Why bother protecting me now? It’s too late—"

“The money is gone! It’s not my fault your mother was stupid enough to trust me!” Nikita shrieked, continuing to struggle, beady killer eyes drilled on me. “It’s not my fault your father was so desperate from loneliness that he sought comfort in me. It was easy, so fucking easy, to take everything away from you.” She finished by spitting in my face, the disgusting glob landing on my cheek.

I tsked, slowly wiping her venomous spit from my skin. “Touché, bitch. But in all your years of evil planning, you made one drastic miscalculation. Me.”

I advanced and ran my contaminated palm through her hair before I yanked that bitch’s head backwards. That’s when chaos broke out, cops raiding the room to collect the unhinged inmate from a sobbing William.

It took three of them to subdue Nikita and drag her out the door, their absence leaving a heavy stillness behind.

All that could be heard was the heaving breaths from William, who was kneeling on the floor, his head bowed in submission.

Oh no, I’m not finished with you yet. “Get up,” I said, unkind and unapologetic.

He listened, taking his time reclaiming his seat. Thomas hadn’t moved, unshaken by the change of events.

“I didn’t know, Colt. I swear. I’ll pay you back. You’ll receive every last cent of your trust fund. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make everything better.”

“Yes. Yes, you will,” I said, taking the documents that sat in Thomas’ open briefcase and laid them in front of my father.

Were his words empty, desperately spoken by a broken man? Or had he given a promise he intended to keep? It was time to test that theory.

He skimmed through the papers, his hands and gaze stalling every now and again. I could sense his hesitation, and I didn’t blame him. I was essentially asking him to sign over my childhood home and the mechanic business he had built up for over twenty years. Everything of value that was still in his name, I wanted—deserved—them for myself.

William had fallen quiet, his instincts rebelling against the contract, which had me crouching down beside him.

“Did you mean it?” I asked, placating and damn near gentle. “That you would make everything better? Or did Nikita warp your brain so much that you don’t know what basic decency means anymore?”

He was shaking his head, salty droplets flying in all directions.

“You know,” I whispered, as if sharing a cherished secret. “I could have buried you too. Technically, it was your signature on those documents. If I wanted to, you could have been charged instead of her. But I saved you out of the kindness of my heart. Don’t you think you owe me, or do you not care for me at all?”

I slipped a pen from my pocket and offered it to him. A long second passed before William accepted, then signed and initialled each relevant page.

As soon as he was done, Thomas gathered the document, closed his briefcase and stood, wiping at the non-existent dust on his suit jacket.

“Ready, Mr Tems?”

“Ready,” I said, appreciating his check-in.

We are done here.

Without another word, we turned for the door.