Chapter 144: Favorite Organ

Jim’s heart was a frantic, racing mess, pounding so violently it felt like it might shatter his ribs. His body trembled uncontrollably, sweat soaking through his shirt as flashes of his life streaked behind his wide, terrified eyes. He knew deep in his gut, with sickening certainty that he wasn’t leaving this room alive.

Scattered around him lay the lifeless bodies of his men. They’d only been following orders, carrying out his bidding, yet here they were, reduced to cooling corpses because of him. He was the architect, the orchestrator of every twisted detail. Now karma had finally caught up, and he was dead meat.

Tears slipped hot and shameful down his cheeks. For years he’d prided himself on being the alpha of alphas—untouchable, invincible, always one step ahead of consequences. He’d convinced himself he could outrun the damage he’d inflicted, especially on women. Beyond trafficking talent and exploiting dreams, Jim was a prolific sexual predator who’d always slipped away unscathed.

His personal mantra had been simple and cruel: “You just have to pick the right girls.” The ones no one would believe, the ones society dismissed. He’d sneer, “How could a handsome guy like me, who always has a stunning, slender beauty on his arm ever assault that Fat Cow? I even gave her the privilege of my attention for the night. It was all consensual.”

He deliberately targeted women he labeled “fat” or “ugly,” the ones who rarely received male attention, let alone from someone like him. A charming smile, a few flirty words, and they’d light up, flattered beyond reason. He’d lure them to his luxurious apartment, seduce them, and wait until they lay spent and vulnerable on the bed.

Then, as if on cue, four, five, sometimes as many as ten men would emerge from closets, from behind curtains, from the shadows where they’d been hiding. The women would freeze in shock, scrambling to cover themselves with sheets, faces burning with humiliation and confusion.

Jim would throw his head back and laugh, a cold, mocking sound that echoed off the walls. His crew joined in, hurling degrading remarks, grunting and snorting. “Oink, oink, oink,” they’d chant, over and over, reducing the woman to a “pig” in their twisted game. They’d repeat it until she dissolved into sobs, shaking and broken.

Only then would Jim step forward, feigning concern. “Hey, hey… if you want, we can make this an orgy. All of us. You’d like that, right?” His eyes gleamed with predatory hunger, lips curling into a shark-like grin. The unspoken threat hung heavy: refuse, and you might not walk out alive. Terrified, most agreed. They’d cry through the entire ordeal, tears streaming silently, but their distress only fueled the men’s excitement.

When it was over, they’d shove her toward the door often in the dead of night, half-dressed and shattered. But first, the final cruelty: they forced her to record a video. “Say it,” Jim would instruct, phone in hand. “Tell everyone it was fun, you enjoyed it, it was all consensual.” She’d choke out the words, voice trembling, knowing the truth would stay buried.

Now, sitting bound and helpless, every vile memory replayed in brutal clarity. Faces blurred together, voices overlapped, ending with Celeste’s death, the one that had finally drawn real attention. He’d fallen straight into the long-awaited jaws of karma.

Ravial Ashbourne hadn’t cared much about Jim’s other victims. He’d known what happened to Celeste, of course, but he’d deliberately held back, letting Leitana uncover the truth herself. She was fiercely passionate about justice for a girl she knew nothing about. Ravial had wanted her to find it on her own terms.

But then Jim Caruso made the fatal mistake of his miserable life: he touched Leitana Ashbourne.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Ravial said, voice calm and almost gentle.

The words snapped Jim from his spiraling thoughts. His eyes widened in desperate relief—only for it to evaporate an instant later.

“I don’t know why I just lied,” Ravial continued, tilting his head. “I am going to hurt you.”

Jim’s heart stuttered, a painful lurch in his chest.

“I guess I was trying to comfort you for a second there.” Ravial’s mouth twisted into a smile so malevolent it turned his unfairly handsome features grotesque—pure, distilled evil.

“But that’s not why we’re here, is it?”

Jim shook his head frantically, words tumbling out in a whisper. “No… no…”

Ravial stepped back, glancing up at the ceiling as if contemplating something profound, then back down at his prey. “You must have known, at some point, that this day would come. Right?”

“No—no, please, don’t kill me. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to her, I swear….”

Ravial snorted, a sound dripping with contempt. “You see, this is exactly why I’m against public education. They feed you lies, tell you the devil doesn’t exist.” He shook his head slowly. “Until you encounter a demon. Or the devil himself. And you’re completely unprepared.”

Jim’s eyes bulged. “What…?”

“Well, before we begin, I have one question I always like to ask.”

A beat of silence. Jim’s throat worked convulsively.

“What’s your favorite organ?”

Bile surged up the back of Jim’s throat, hot and bitter.

“You see, if you asked me,” Ravial went on, voice conversational, “I’d say the heart.” He paused, letting the word hang. “But if I started there, the fun would end far too quickly, wouldn’t it?”

“Please… no… please, I’m begging you…”

Ravial ignored the plea. “So I always suggest and I’m open to other ideas, of course—that we start from the bottom and work our way up.”

“Oh God,” Jim breathed, trembling so hard the chair creaked.

“He’s not here,” Ravial replied with a low, dark chuckle that echoed in the cold room.

“And naturally, we’ll begin with your manhood since that’s what got us into this charming debacle in the first place. Then maybe the epididymis next… a kidney here and there for variety.”

Jim’s cries grew louder, raw and broken, tears mixing with snot.

“Don’t worry,” Ravial said softly, almost soothingly. “I’ve done this before. You’ll stay awake the whole time. I’ve got plenty of blood and adrenaline ready. We’re going to take it nice and slow.”