Chapter 218 Your Turn
“...He’s going to kill us. He’s going to kill me,” Amanda muttered, pacing the room like a frantic, cornered animal. Sweat poured down her face and soaked through her armpits as she circled the room. The tech guys kept their eyes glued to their screens, fingers hammering keys, pretending she wasn’t unraveling right in front of them.
Bishop didn’t even look up at first. “Will you shut the fuck up.”
Amanda froze. The fingernail she’d been nervously chewing slipped from her lips and rubbed down her white trousers, streaking a thin line of blood. Bishop’s face twisted with disgust before his gaze snapped back to hers.
“YOU…” She jabbed a shaking finger at him and stormed forward. In a flash of anger, she pressed the half-chewed nail against his chest. “This is on you. If you hadn’t come sniffing around asking for dirt on Knight’s little mute wife, we wouldn’t be hiding like rats while that psycho hunts us down.”
Bishop looked down at the nail touching his shirt. His voice dropped into a cold, flat tone that made the two bodyguards near the door shift uneasily.
“Firstly….I’m not hiding from Knight. And second.” His eyes lowered to her finger... and before she even registered the movement, he grabbed it.
Amanda’s eyes went wide.
Crack.
The sound echoed through the room.
“Ahhh….!” She screamed, the men at the computers flinching, but Bishop/Keenan held on, expression dark and empty. He twisted the bone further until her knees buckled, tears streaming down her face as she whimpered.
“I hate disrespect,” he said quietly, and twisted harder.
She dropped to her knees with a sob.
“Sir!” one of the techs squeaked, eyes wide. “It’s confirmed. The video’s completely gone. Scrubbed from the dark web. Not a single copy left.”
Bishop twisted her finger again at the news, and Amanda sobbed.
“You and that idiot were sloppy,” he snarled, eyes burning holes through her. “And now you’re trying to blame me?”
He finally released her. Amanda yanked her injured hand to her chest and scrambled backward until her spine hit the wall.
He chuckled softly. “Where you going, huh?” His laugh grew sharp, almost unhinged. He strode toward her.
His boots stopped inches from her shaking knees.
Amanda pressed herself deeper into the wall, broken finger cradled against her chest, tears and snot streaking down her face. The room went silent, keyboards dead, breathing tight.
Bishop crouched slowly, like a predator choosing where to bite.
“Don’t, don’t come closer…” she whimpered.
His smile was the kind found in padded rooms.
Bishop crouched in front of her, grabbed her face hard enough to make her lips pucker, and slammed the back of her head against the concrete.
Thud.
Her cry vanished under his palm.
“You still don’t get it?” he whispered against her ear. “That video wasn’t just money. It was bait.”
He slammed her head again.
Thud.
A thin line of blood trickled down her temple.
“I wanted him broken,” Bishop hissed. “I wanted Knight on his knees, begging. I wanted him to watch the entire world jerk off to his precious mute wife while she cried.”
He slapped her hard, snapping her head sideways.
“But you fucked it up. You let him clean it in weeks. Do you know how long I waited to see that man bleed?”
Amanda curled in on herself. “I…I didn’t know he’d find Eddie so fast…”
Bishop’s laugh was low and ugly. “He’s Knight. And now he’s coming for you. Slowly. He’ll peel your skin off in little strips. He’ll turn your bones into wind chimes. And when he’s done with you, he’ll come for me.”
He stood tall over her shaking form.
“That’s why I’m taking something he loves more than his own life.”
Amanda looked up, terrified. “W-what?”
Bishop wiped her blood on his trousers like dust.
“His wife. Genesis. I’m dragging her out of that house, locking her in a box, and letting him watch her rot. Pregnant or not, I’ll cut that kid out myself and mail it to him in pieces.”
The room held its breath.
Bishop turned to the guard by the door. The guy was already holding out a burner phone.
Bishop took it, put it to his ear. Rang once.
“You there?” he asked.
“Yes, boss. Standing right outside her door.”
Bishop smiled, slow and sick.
“Any last words for her?”
“Nah,” Bishop said, glancing at Amanda crying on the floor. “Make it quick. Then disappear.”
Amanda’s eyes snapped wide.
Only one person could be on the other end of that call.
She squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling over, because she knew, she knew she was next.
Bishop reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small black pistol. He leveled it at her face with a smile that looked almost tender.
“Step inside,” he said to the person on the other end, voice soft, like he was savoring every second.
Miles away, inside the quiet hospital room, a door eased open.
A man in stolen nurse scrubs stepped in.
The woman on the bed, Amelia, had her eyes closed, breathing shallow. The second the door clicked, her eyes flew open. One look at him and pure terror flooded her face.
She didn’t need to ask who he was. He wasn’t staff. He was death wearing a cheap uniform.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Please,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Can I see him… just once?”
Bishop, still listening through the phone pressed to his ear, didn’t hesitate.
“No,” he said calmly.
Four minutes and fifty-three seconds later, three muffled gunshots punched through the hospital walls.
Then silence.
Back in the room, Amanda heard every shot.
She opened her eyes, looked straight down the barrel of Bishop’s gun, and started shaking so hard her teeth chattered.
Bishop just smiled wider.
“Your turn,” he said.