by Monica James
It’s time I sacrificed myself to save him…just how he has done for me. If it wasn’t for him, my whole life would have been different. I would have never gone to Berkeley. I would have never lost everything to appreciate all that I had.
“Choose me. Kill me,” I declare while Lincoln stands still, blinking in disbelief. “You asked me to choose, and I have. If you have any honor left, you’ll abide by my decision.”
It’s a long shot, but it will never come to light.
London begins to laugh, the type of laugh you’d hear haunting the walls of any asylum at night.
Lincoln seems interested in what’s so funny, so he roughly removes the gag from around London’s mouth. “What’s so funny?”
“You, you fucking pathetic momma’s boy,” he replies, cackling. “No wonder your dad hates your guts. You’re an embarrassment. I was quarterback because he couldn’t stand looking at what a failure his son is.”
Lincoln bellows before taking out his gun and pistol-whipping London’s temple. His head snaps back with a sickening crack.
“London, no!” I plead, but I know what he’s doing. He’s baiting Lincoln, so the choice will be made by him.
The look in London’s eyes shatters my heart, and I doubt it’ll ever be put together again. He’s sorry. He’s sorry he failed me. He’s sorry he couldn’t protect me this one final time.
“I feel sorry for you; you’re weak. You always have been.” London continues to bait him, regardless of the fact he’s bleeding from a gaping cut on the side of his head.
Lincoln breathes in through his nose and surprisingly lets London go. His head flops forward, but he slowly raises it.
“Holland, I commend you, but that’s not an option. I need you alive. Not a hair on your head will be touched.”
My blood runs cold. “Why?”
The puzzle begins to manifest, and when a middle-aged man in an expensive suit and flashy gold jewelry emerges from behind the door, there is no mistaking who he is. “Because, you bitch, you need to pay for what you did to my father.”
Here, he stands—the boogieman. Here is my payback for doing my job, for keeping the streets clean. This was personal for me because I grew up around drugs. I knew what they did to people. They destroy and kill. I don’t take back what I did. I only wish I had put away more of these scumbags.
I feared retaliation from the Rossi crew, and his son, Benito Rossi, has finally come to deliver it. This time, it’s real. “Tick tock, Lincoln,” Benito says in a thick Italian accent. “I’m all for torture, but we had a deal.”
“Deal?” It doesn’t take me long to realize what deal that is. “You sold me out?”
“Yes,” Lincoln replies with calculation. “What choice did I have? At least I’m giving you a choice. Mine was taken away the moment you fucked up my life.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, switching my attention from Lincoln to Benito. Both men are just as vile and evil as the other.
“I need money,” he says simply. “The Rossi family has money. And they need a place to…conceal their money.”
“You dog,” I snarl as everything I stand for has just been shit on. “You’d use Grotta and Hill to help aid criminals?” What he’s talking about is money laundering. He helps conceal their blood money in the company, making it seem legit, while appearing to flourish as VP.
“It’s a win, win,” he says with shrug. “I give them you; they give me a hefty sum of money every month as payment. There is quite a bounty on your head.”
“The photo. It was you?” I utter, angered that I didn’t see the truth for what it was.
“No, it was the Rossis, but they were the key to bring us closer together. We both wanted the same thing—to make you pay.” He saunters toward me, placing his foot between my legs and tipping my chair backward. “So quit fucking around. It’s time to deliver.”
“No,” I spit. “Never.”
Benito is impatient as he looks at his gold watch. He’s all for an eye for an eye, but time is money.
With no other choice, I beg for the lives of the people I love. “I’ll go willingly. I promise. Just let them both go.”
“Holland!” London bellows, but I can’t look at him.
“That’s not the deal,” Lincoln states, tipping the chair farther back as he is in control of whether I fall.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask Benito, who grins. When he strolls over, Lincoln scampers away.
Benito reeks of money and power, just like his father. “We’re going to make you feel real good,” he says with innuendo, gripping my chin between two fingers.
“Don’t touch her!” London roars violently. But he’s ignored.
“When we’re done with you, you’ll be begging us to kill you.”
A single tear scores my cheek. Lincoln sold me to the devil. He couldn’t blackmail me, so he decided to use me in other ways to cement his career. He just signed my death warrant. It all comes down to money, revenge, and greed. Bloodlust at its very best.
Rossi kisses my cheek, delivering the kiss of death. It’s time.
“Come here, baby,” London says to a weeping Emily as she uncovers her eyes. He knows what’s about to happen, and we’re helpless to stop it. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.” Emily sniffles, wiping her nose before walking over.
“London,” I cry, shaking my head fiercely.
But he ignores me. His mind is made up as we both know there was never a choice to be made. It was fated from the moment we fell in love.
“I love you, baby. So much. Never forget that, okay?”
“Daddy,” Emily weeps, throwing her tiny arms around his neck. “Come home.”
“I can’t. I need you to be a big girl and go with Mommy. I want you to close your eyes real tight and cover your ears. Like you did when you watched that scary movie you weren’t supposed to watch. Can you do that for me?”
A sob gets caught in my throat. I will do anything. Anything.
“Lincoln, please,” I sob, choking on my words. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll marry you. I’ll be an obedient wife. You can do whatever you want with me, but please”—my body shudders with my tears—“don’t kill him. Please.”
London meets my eyes, tears welling. We are staring at one another, both bargaining for the other person’s life because our lives aren’t worth living without the other.
I can see a flicker of humanity pass over him. “I know you don’t want to do this. You’re not a killer. I know that you’re not. I loved you, and that man I loved isn’t capable of this. This can end now. You can stop it. You’re the only one who can.”
“Shut up!” he shouts, pacing in front of me, gripping at his hair. Could it be he’s been struck with a guilty conscience? I only have hope left, so I play on it.
“We’ve spent over ten years together, and I’m sorry I made you do this. It’s all my fault. I’m the one who messed up. Not you.” It’s what he’s always wanted to hear. That this was never his fault. That I pushed him to act this way. I left him no choice.
“Yes, it’s your fault. You’re right.”
“Yes, it is my fault. Let me make it up to you. I promise to be good.”
London squirms while Emily stands by him, sobbing.
Lincoln smirks and nods, my admission appearing to have set him free. He strides over, bending low, so we’re inches apart. I flinch but calm the urge to headbutt him.
Benito stands close by, watching to see what Lincoln’s next move will be.
“I loved you, Holland. I really did. It was always you.” He sweeps away the tangled hair from my brow, touching me like a lover would.
“Emily, go to Mommy. I love you, baby. Remember, don’t look,” I vaguely hear London order, unsure what’s going on as I can’t see him. Lincoln is obstructing my view.
“Okay, Daddy. Take my nutcracker. He’ll protect you.”
“I would have done anything for you, but you broke my heart…so it seems fitting th
at I now break yours.” I don’t have time to move because he slams his lips to mine, kissing me cruelly. He palms my breasts while thrusting his tongue into my throat so I can’t breathe.
Every part of me is demanding I fight, to sever our connection, but I don’t. I do something so obscene…I kiss him back.
I have the only thing he ever wanted—me. I surrender, hoping by submitting, he will show London mercy and let him go. He moans into my mouth, gripping the back of my hair to deepen the kiss. I almost gag but go along, trying my best to fool him into thinking I want him too.
“No!” London howls, the chair rattling beneath him as he tries to break free. “Get off her! Holland. No. Please no.”
His pleas spur me on as I kiss Lincoln harder, using my hatred for him as fuel as I devour him. “I will do anything,” I whisper against his lips, before sucking his tongue and biting his lip.
He growls, and I can only imagine what this is doing to London. To see me kiss Lincoln is sure to break him apart. But I can deal with that; as long as he lives, I can make amends for the rest of my life.
“Princess!” he wails, his pain punching a hole straight through me. “No. I’ll kill you! You motherfucker! I’ll kill you!”
It only spurs Lincoln on as he molests me in front of my husband…and I yield.
I’m numb by the time he pulls away, eyes heated. “That was some kiss,” he says, leaning forward to deliver another. I flinch but soon recover, smiling.
“Untie me and we can continue,” I reason, trying my hardest to try this docile act on for size.
He seems to ponder my suggestion while I hold my breath. “I almost believed you,” he finally reveals, hurt echoing around him, “but you’re not that good of an actress.”
“Lincoln, no!” But it’s too late. He pushes off me and turns to face London who sits before me, broken.
“London, look at m-me…” I weep. I need to look into those eyes. He lifts his chin slowly, swimming with regret. “I love you. I’m s-sorry.” I want him to know I did this for him. But he knows. Self-sacrifice is what he does best.
“I love you, too, Princess. It’ll be all right. I promise.” His voice is raspy from screaming, but until the very end, he’s trying to save me. Our adoration sets off a bomb but isn’t that what it’s always done.
Lincoln doesn’t care for sentiment as he growls, “Let that be the last thing you ever see…me kissing your wife, you fucking asshole.” It happens in mere seconds, but that small fraction of time changes my life forever.
A loud bang echoes around me, and the urge to cover my ears overcomes me. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move again when I see that loud bang has just come from the gun Lincoln holds…the gun he just shot London in the chest with.
There must be some mistake. It can’t be. I stare wide-eyed. “Lo-London?” I say with a tremble, but he doesn’t respond. He sits slumped forward in the chair, chin to his chest as blood trickles from his mouth. “No,” I whisper, gasping for air.
But the more I speak, the worse things become because with words come questions, questions to why London isn’t moving. To why he looks like he’s…dead.
Belle’s gut-curdling scream confuses me. Why is she screaming? Any minute, he will wake and tell us it’ll be okay. He has to. He promised me forever. “London?” I say slowly. “Wake up.” But he doesn’t, and he never will.
The walls close in on me as my mind refuses to believe what I see as truth. So, instead, I focus on the nutcracker lying in a broken heap by London’s feet. I can’t help but compare his appearance to mine.
I’m broken, and I will never, never heal.
“Oh, poor Romeo,” Lincoln spits as he lowers the gun. Years of revenge have been atoned with a single bullet. “Who needs a dagger when you have this?”
I watch on in awe, not really connected to my body as Lincoln hands the gun to Rossi’s goon, a gun which will soon disappear forever. A gun which took the life of my beloved.
No. Please, no. I will never see him smile again. Never smell that comforting fragrance that kept the demons away. I will never hear him call me Princess again.
A sob grips me, and I lose control. I surrender, allowing the darkness to submerge me whole.
Realization hits me, and I gasp like a fish out of water, but no air reaches my lungs. I can’t breathe. I’m dying…slowly, but I don’t want to live, not when I see the life leave my husband. He was my reason for living…I have nothing left to live for.
“You ki-killed h-him?” I weep while Lincoln raises his shoulder.
“Yes, I did. Shot him right in the fucking chest. That was a long time coming. Now who’s weak!” he shouts, kicking London’s lifeless leg.
“The police will find you. You won’t get away with it,” I declare, breathlessly, feeling nothing other than this emptiness take over my soul.
“I already have,” Lincoln cockily says, showing no remorse for taking London’s life—a life which is worth so much.
“Okay, let’s go,” Benito says, rounding the troops with a sweep of his finger. “The cops will be here soon. We good, Lincoln? The deal is done?”
Lincoln nods once, sealing my fate for good.
It’s a flurry of movement as more goons appear, rushing around to make the arrangements of transporting the “goods” without being seen. It appears I’m seen as nothing but chattel. But that man bleeding in front of me saw me as so much more. He loved me, and I loved him.
Tears sting my vision, but I doubt they’ll ever stop. My heart is broken, unrepairable, and death doesn’t seem so bad anymore. All this was for nothing. But London’s voice scolds me. To love and be loved in return will never be forgotten, and even though we lived a fraction in time, it was our time together.
“I lo-love yo-you,” I sob over and over again, unable to tear my eyes away from London’s motionless body. “I’ll see you soon, sweet prince.” This princess is coming home.
As the mafia work around me, preparing to kidnap me, I steal a glance at Belle. Emily is shielded into her chest, eyes and ears sealed shut. She doesn’t know what faces her, and I hope she never will.
“Now,” Lincoln whispers into my ear, startling me. I attempt to shrink away, but he grips my shoulder. “Let’s make this a true tale of star-crossed lovers, shall we?” Before I have a chance to tell him to fuck off, he holds up a small vial, containing a clear liquid.
“What is that?”
“It’s your salvation. Drink it and you won’t feel a thing.” When I buck, his grip tightens. “What they intend to do to you, believe me, you want to drink it.”
Poison? He thinks he’s showing me kindness, like an owner putting down their sick pet. Where was his compassion when he shot London in the chest?
“Fuck you,” I grunt, thrashing from his hold.
Lincoln grips my chin, forcing me to look at Emily, whose back is still turned. “Drink it. Now.” It’s evident he doesn’t want Benito to know that he’s offering me this small mercy. However, this isn’t for my sake; it’s for his. So he can wipe his conscience clean.
I refuse to do anything to lessen his guilt, but when he whispers, “I’ll fucking kill her too,” all options are taken away from me once more.
“What is it?” I ask, trembling, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“It’s just a mild sedative. Benito doesn’t want you dead. And I agreed to that. This will just make the pain go away.” There is no such thing as a magical potion. “Drink it, Holland.” He unstops the vial and places it to my lips.
“Why are you doing this?” I don’t understand why he wants to ease my pain when he’s caused so much.
“Because…I loved you. I always have,” he sadly confesses. “Now drink.”
I’m dead anyway. I have nothing left to lose because the moment London took his last breath was the moment I took mine too. Peering at my beloved, I promise to see him soon.
“Oh my love, my husband,” I weep. The act is over—our star-crossed tale has seen
the final curtain close. “Here’s to my love.”
I close my eyes, a single tear slipping free as I open my mouth and tilt my head back, accepting death, embracing it with a lover’s kiss. The moment the poison slips down my throat, I feel free. I will see London soon.
But it doesn’t appear that’s what written in the stars.
“Holland…NO!” It’s the voice of my love who speaks, but it’s too late…
Thy drugs are quick. Thus, with a kiss I die.
The next few seconds explode around me, and I’m certain it’s the effects of the drugs taking hold of my body and dragging me into the abyss. I force my heavy eyelids open, but I must be already dead as London is screaming at me to wake up.
My sweet prince lives. We both live in death. For an eternity.
I slump in the chair, losing all control of my body as I slip into a blissful trance. No one can hurt me here. I’m safe. I don’t flinch when my chair is knocked over, and my head connects with the hard floor. I don’t blink when gunfire erupts around me, and men in uniform come storming in, guns raised.
I watch in a state of bliss as London is untied from his confines, screaming in a voiceless sound. He’s free. He runs over, dropping to his knees, his fingers frantic as he unties me from the chair.
“Princess, breathe. My love, breathe.” With a kiss, it appears I’m saved.
He locks his mouth around mine, and breathes his life into me, willing me to wake. But I fight him because this isn’t real. London is dead; I saw him die with my own two eyes. So, who is this person demanding I fight and not leave him?
Everything is so groggy, thanks to the drugs overriding my system. Add to that the open gash to the back of my head and my life source is quickly depleting.
“I need a paramedic! Now! You’re going to be okay. I promised you. Don’t you leave me! Holland, come back to me. Please.” The feel of his hands on me, brushing the hair from my cheeks and kissing my forehead has me whimpering. It feels so real.
I don’t understand what’s happening as everything is sluggish, but the harder London begs for me to come back to him, the clearer things become. “Lo-Lon-don?”
