Chapter 46- Justice

Chapter 46- Justice

“Shit.”

The curse slipped out before I could stop it. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Alessandro’s last message was still glowing on my phone screen.

‘I know where you are. Don’t make me come in there.’

My blood ran cold.

I turned to the window. The room was only on the second floor — not too high. I could jump. I had to. There was no time to think. I grabbed my bag, threw the phone on the bed, and yanked the curtains open.

The glass was cracked, but it would do. I pushed it up, the night air hitting my face. Cold. Sharp. Real.

“Please don’t break my legs,” I muttered, clutching the strap of my bag.

Then I jumped.

I hit the ground hard, pain shooting up my ankle, but I stayed quiet. I pushed myself up, teeth clenched, and started running. The motel faded behind me — a box of flickering light and mildew. I didn’t look back.

A taxi slowed down at the corner. I waved my arm like a madwoman. The driver frowned but stopped.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Obsidian Club,” I said, panting. “Downtown. I’ll pay cash.”

He nodded and pulled off.

I sank into the seat, my pulse racing. My hands were shaking. Every shadow outside the window looked like him. Every red light felt like a trap. I could still feel Alessandro’s hands on my skin — the way he’d touched me, claimed me, ruined me.

But I couldn’t think about that. Not now.

I had work to do.

\~~~

The taxi stopped in front of the club—a tall, dark building of glass and steel. The kind of place where the rich came to sin and smile while doing it.

It was still early. The bouncers were bored, the music low. Perfect.

I paid the driver and walked in, head down, hood up. The air inside was thick with smoke and perfume. I moved quickly through the lobby, past the bar, down a hallway lined with mirrors. My heart was still thundering, but my mind was focused.

No one looked at me twice. To them, I was just another woman chasing trouble.

I found a side door — one of the private rooms used for VIPs. I slipped inside and locked it behind me.

Finally, I could breathe.

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heart slam against my palm. My reflection in the dark window looked like a stranger — messy hair, pale face, black hoodie half-zipped. I still smelled like soap and fear.

I dropped the bag on the couch and unzipped it.

Guns. Ammo. Knife. The red dress.

I closed my eyes. For a second, the air in the room seemed to vanish.

He killed her.

I checked my wrist watch. It was 10:47 p.m. Nikolai would arrive close to midnight. I had time to get ready.

I changed fast—the red dress sliding over my skin like liquid fire. I twisted my hair up.

The club had changed by the time I stepped out of the room. The bass was heavy now, the lights dimmer, people filling every corner—laughing, drinking, dancing like they didn’t care if the world burned.

I moved through the crowd, my heels clicking softly on the marble floor. No one knew what I was about to do. No one cared.

I slipped behind a pillar near the VIP lounge — a private area surrounded by glass and guarded by two men in black suits. The kind of men who killed for Nikolai.

I knew they wouldn’t let me close, but I didn’t need to get close. I just needed a clear shot.

The music cut for half a second, and that’s when it happened.

The air changed.

You could feel it before you saw him—the hush that came when power entered a room.

Then Nikolai walked in.

Tall. Calm. Cold. Like a man who owned the air he breathed. The crowd parted for him without being told. He didn’t smile, but people still smiled at him. They always did.

He had a woman on his arm.

The same woman from the ball. The one who’d smiled like she belonged to him.

My chest tightened.

She laughed at something he said—soft, sweet, like she didn’t know she was walking beside a monster.

I felt something dark rise inside me.

Rage. Grief.

All of it twisted together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

He looked untouchable. Powerful. Alive.

And Camilla was dead.

The thought hit me so hard my knees almost gave out.

He killed the one I loved. He didn’t even flinch. He just kept walking, kept breathing, kept smiling like he deserved to.

Why should he get to smile? Why should he get to love someone when he’d taken everything from me?

My hand slipped into the bag. I felt the cold metal of the gun, the silencer smooth beneath my fingers.

I could end it right here.

But then I hesitated.

Why kill him? Why give him an easy end when he’d given Camilla pain?

Maybe… maybe it would hurt more if I took what he loved.

My heartbeat slowed. My breath evened out.

The woman leaned closer to him, her hand brushing his arm. He looked down at her, eyes soft. Like she was his world.

A cruel smile pulled at my lips.

Yes. This was better. This was perfect.

Let him feel what it’s like to lose the only person who makes the world bearable.

Let him know what it’s like to stand in the middle of the wreckage, knowing it’s his fault.

I unscrewed the silencer and fixed it onto the barrel. My fingers were steady now. The music thumped around me, lights flashing across the club. Nobody noticed me. Nobody saw the gun.

I raised it slowly, eyes locked on her.

She was laughing again.

He leaned in to whisper something to her.

I took aim.

The sound of my breathing filled my ears. Everything else faded. The crowd, the lights, the music — gone.

It was just me. The gun. The woman.

And justice.

I tightened my finger on the trigger.

Click.

The tiny sound was lost under the pulse of the music.

My heart thudded once, twice—hard enough to hurt.

One more breath. One more second. One more pull.

This was it.

The end.

For him. For her. For everything.

I didn’t even notice the tears running down my face until one hit my lip — warm, salty, real.

My hands didn’t shake. My heart didn’t change its mind.

I smiled once. Just once.

“Goodbye,” I whispered.

Then I pulled the trigger.