Chapter 113: Prices And Punishments

The night was heavy with the threat of rain, the air thick with diesel and desperation. Will steered his Cadillac to the meeting point, a shadowed corner of an abandoned lot on the edge of town. The neon glow of a distant diner flickered, casting jagged reflections on the cracked pavement. He parked, killed the engine, and stepped into the darkness, his polished shoes scuffing against gravel. Alone this time, he adjusted his tie, scanning for Jinx. He needed answers—*had she taken care of Peter Cooper, or was Addicus’s plan unraveling?*

She was already there, a wraith in the shadows. Will didn’t see her until she spoke, her voice like a blade at his back. “You’re late.”

He flinched, heart lurching, and spun to face her. Jinx leaned against a rusted dumpster, her leather jacket blending with the night, a cigarette glowing faintly between her fingers. Will swallowed, smoothing his suit to mask the jolt. “Have you done the job?”

Jinx exhaled smoke, her eyes glinting like a predator’s. “It’s gonna take longer than I thought.”

Will’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean? You said five days to kill him. Now you need more time?”

She stepped closer, her boots silent on the pavement. “Not just time. Money. The price for his life doubled.”

Will’s laugh was sharp, hysterical, echoing off the empty lot. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Jinx’s voice was flat, her gaze unyielding.

“We agreed on a price,” Will snapped, trying to sound tough. “That’s what you get when it’s done.”

Jinx moved like a viper. Her boot connected with his groin, and Will crumpled to his knees, gasping. He fumbled for his gun, but she was faster, twisting it from his grip and pressing a knife to his throat. The blade’s edge bit into his skin, cold and precise.

“What the hell is this?” Will choked, fury mixing with fear. “You wanna die?”

“Quiet,” Jinx hissed, crouching to meet his eyes, “or I’ll carve you like a peach.” Her breath was warm against his face.

“I’ve killed men like you—rich, powerful, all thinking they’re untouchable. They died easy, no sweat. But Peter Cooper? He’s slippery, skilled. You didn’t tell me that when you hired me.”

Will glared, the knife’s pressure forcing him still. “So what now?”

“More money,” Jinx said, the blade tightening. “This job’s harder than I figured.”

“Forget it,” Will spat. “You’re not getting another dime. I’ll find someone else. Should’ve known a woman couldn’t handle it.”

Jinx’s smile was dangerous. She yanked him closer, her voice a low growl. “Don’t play that card, mister. I’m the best killer you’ll ever meet, and I’m the only one who can take Cooper out. He’s good—him and his buddy. Anyone else you send? Dead in a heartbeat. Me? I love the chase. It excites me.” She shoved him back, letting him sprawl. “Your choice.”

Will staggered up, clutching his neck, rage burning. “Fine. You’ll get your money. But touch me again, and I’ll cut your hands off.”

Jinx smirked, unfazed, and flicked her cigarette into the dark.

“Sure you will.”

\-----

Sharon’s eyes fluttered open, the room swimming into focus. The tranquilizer’s fog had lifted, leaving a dull ache in her limbs. She tugged at her wrists, but ropes held her fast, biting into her skin. The bed creaked beneath her, its thin mattress offering no comfort.

Panic surged. “No,” she screamed, thrashing against the binds. “I won’t let you touch me again!”

Addicus stood by the door, his silhouette stark against the bare bulb’s glare. A belt was wrapped around his fist, his shirtless frame lean and menacing. He watched her struggle, a faint smile curling his lips as her strength faded. “Welcome back, Sharon,” he said, voice smooth as poison. “Now we can begin.”

“Get off me!” Sharon’s voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Someone help—Martha!”

Addicus laughed, a low, mocking sound. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her, the belt dangling like a threat. “Martha won’t save you.” He leaned close, his breath hot against her ear. “If you want me to stop, beg. Beg me.”

“Never,” Sharon spat, defiance blazing despite the fear. She hocked saliva into his face.

Addicus froze, then wiped his cheek with the bedsheet, his smile twisting into a scowl. The belt cracked against her thighs, a searing pain that left a red welt. Sharon bit her lip, refusing to cry out. She wouldn’t give him that.

“You think you can resist me?” Addicus snarled, striking again, harder. Still, Sharon stayed silent, her eyes burning into his.

Fury darkened his face. He climbed atop her, hands gripping her neck. “Beg me to stop!” he roared. She didn’t flinch, didn’t speak. His palm cracked across her face, splitting her lip. Another slap followed, then another. Blood trickled, warm and coppery.

He yanked her dress up, his fingers grazing her thighs, creeping higher. Sharon forced herself to breathe, to stay still. Fighting was useless, but she wouldn’t break. “Beg me!” he shouted, punching her stomach, the air rushing from her lungs.

She stayed silent, eyes squeezed shut, shutting him out. He tore the dress off, exposing her. “Look at me!” he demanded. She didn’t.

Addicus unzipped his trousers, his weight pinning her as he forced himself inside. Sharon whimpered, biting her lip until it bled, but no scream escaped. “Beg me!” he growled, thrusting, his voice frantic. She was stone, unyielding.

For thirty minutes, he beat and violated her, his rage a storm. Sharon endured, silent, her mind clinging to Peter—his warmth, his promise. Addicus finally climbed off, zipping his trousers, sweat gleaming on his skin. “You think you’re strong,” he panted, “but you’ll break. Eventually.”

He left, the door locking with a heavy click. Sharon lay still, ropes cutting into her wrists, pain pulsing through her. No tears came. She wouldn’t cry—not for him. **Not ever.**