Redemption (The Bet)

by Phal, Francette

  "The first time you fucked with me, I let you off easy, Tony. Prison was a cakewalk compared to what I have planned for you. You really should've stayed away, but you decided you wanted to come back and get your revenge. You even managed to stalk my family for months without my notice." Nicholas clapped his hands and smiled derisively. "I must applaud you for that. You've managed to elude my team for a good eight months, that's something to be proud of. But your achievements only managed to piss me off and the fact that you were stupid enough to think you could get away with kidnapping my children, well," he turned to the silver tray at his left, which Topher had arranged for him and grabbed a scalpel, "that's not something I can easily forgive."

  The jagged blades descended and tore into Tony's flesh, the second they began to rise, blood bloomed and like a geyser began to gush out. Tony's screams echoed his dark eyes rounded and watery, his fists clenched as he anxiously tried to breathe. Topher was immediately at Tony's side and poured the clear contents in the beaker he held onto the wounds, Tony's body rose inches from the table and began to spasm.

  "Do you want me to tell you a story, Tony?" Nicholas asked calmly, impervious to what was happening.

  "F-f-fuck you..." A mixture of spittle, blood and phlegm glistened across his quivering lips.

  "It'll make you feel better." He intoned.

  Tony's pained scowl brought a smile to Nicholas's lips. "Your loss. It was a really good story." He stood up. "Oh, did you like the pets I left for you?"

  "He had the time of his life." Topher responded and chuckled to himself.

  "Wonderful to hear." Nicholas walked around the table and leaned over Tony's pain distorted face. "You look like shit, Tony." Nicholas brought the scalpel to view and pressed the sharp instrument against Tony's mouth. "How about a smile, hmnn?" He drove the scalpel between Tony's clenched lips, shoving further between clenched teeth Nicholas swiftly drew it upwards and tore at the soft tissue of Tony's cheek. From ear to ear he administered the same brutal treatment to both sides until blood oozed out, splattering his arms and shirt. Blood covered his hands as he soullessly looked at the face of the disfigured man, whose attempts at screaming were quite a disturbing sight.

  There was true unadulterated horror in Tony's eyes as Nicholas continued to stare at him, what he saw in those silver eyes had him desperately praying for death. For the Devil stared back at him. In those cold, fathomless eyes, he saw nothing that resembled humanity.

  Tony's latest wounds created a gruesome image, Nicholas was immune to them. He stooped down so that his mouth fell at the same level as Tony's ear. "Death will be your only escape." He rose and dropped the scalpel on the silver tray.

  "Nhhh." It came out as a guttural moan. Tony was no longer capable of speech. He could do no more than gurgle and drown in blood and agony.

  "Try not to talk." Nicholas advised, reclaiming his seat on the stool, he tugged a few feet away and sat down. "Whenever you're ready, Christopher."

  Before he found his love for firearms, Topher was studying to become a surgeon; he gave up that dream the minute he held a gun. So as a pastime, when his clients paid enough and weren't particularly squeamish, he offered his surgical expertise.

  "Say hello to Christopher, Tony, he's very excited to work with you. I'd be honored if I was you. He's all about precision."

  "Sorry man, but you fucked up." Topher said indifferently before grabbing a syringe from the tray table, "Do you want me to tell you how old this needle is? Or maybe," he tipped the syringe upside down and gently tapped the air bubbles away, before turning to his patient. "I'll start by telling you exactly where I found it." With the saw blades making their descent, Topher took hold of Tony's arm and tightly squeezed the muscles in his forearm. Once he found a vein, he stabbed the hypodermic needle into it and squeezed out the contents in the barrel.

  "We wouldn't want you to pass out before we're finished. Nicholas wants you awake through everything. Now," he tossed the syringe onto the tray, "back to my story. On my way here, I managed to stumble by this baser, so I asked if he had a syringe on him by any chance, and wouldn't you believe it! The goddamn fucker did have one. So, I gave him a hundred bucks and he gave me his syringe. Good trade, right?" he had to raise his voice over the whir of the blades and Tony's gurgling cries.

  His incoherent babbles and blood caked face had Topher empathizing with the poor man and deep down a part of him wanted to stop what he was doing. Fortunately, that part of him could easily be silenced by his well-founded fear of the silver eyed man seated not too far behind him.

  He'd rather be on Nicholas's good side any day, than his bad side. So with that in mind, Topher commenced. Taking hold of Tony's left hand, Topher applied the scalpel to the back of the wounded man's index finger. He pulled the scalpel downwards, causing the pale blue flesh to unfurl, once he reached the knuckle, he jumped on to the next digit and meted out the same punishment, until he reached the pinky. By the time, he was finished, Tony's blood trickled from Topher's gloved hands and onto the cold concrete floor.

  No longer capable of screaming, Tony's agonized protest only came out as strained groans.

  It continued this way, every mutilation much worse than the last, until Tony Carlyle was nothing more than an unrecognizable corpse in a vat of blood, flesh and bones.

  "Kiiilll meh--" he gargled, choking on his own saliva and blood. Nicholas having risen a few minutes ago peered down at him. Some part of him should've felt something, maybe compassion or even disgust but there was nothing. Even vengeance proved distasteful now.

  "Give me your gun," he ordered staidly. Topher leaned down, pulled out his pistol from his boot and handed it to Nicholas.

  Nicholas took the gun and aimed it between Tony's bleary eyes.

  "Plea---"

  "I'll see you in hell, Tony. Tell my father I'll be seeing him. " Nicholas pulled the safety, squeezed the trigger and fired without a moment's hesitation.

  He tossed the gun back to Topher, "I suggest you pack your things and leave."

  "The money...?"

  Nicholas turned and callously grinned at the other man, "You've earned yourself a bonus, Christopher," He mockingly patted Topher's cheek. "Don't spend it all in one place."

  "What do you want me to do with the body?" He yelled after the Nicholas's retreating form.

  "Leave it. Be out of here in five minutes."

  There was a clock set to tick the moment he left this condemned warehouse, in five minutes, there would be nothing left but debris and a charred corpse. However, no one would be able to identify the remains, because the person known as Anthony Carlyle never existed.

  'It's good to be rich.' Nicholas silently thought as he lit the cigarette between his lips, took a long drag and exhaled upon his exit.

  Chapter 24

  "Did you enjoy dinner, Roan?" Ellie asked of Devlin's son seated in the passenger seat of her car. Roan peeled his eyes from the passing scenery outside long enough to respond to Ellie's question.

  "Yeah, dinner was good."

  He was usually more talkative than this. Ellie wondered if he was sick. "Are you alright? Do you feel sick?" She took one hand off the steering wheel and reached over to touch his forehead.

  "No, I'm fine." He averted his eyes back to the window.

  Roan's wasn't just Devlin's son. In the last three years since she and Devlin dated, Ellie had always treated Roan like one of her own, and always made herself available to him. It hurt to see the young boy so distant now. "Whatever's wrong you can tell me, we'll work it out together,"

  Roan remained silent.

  Ellie tried another tactic. "How's school…"

  "You’re not going to marry my dad, are you?"

  Taken off guard by the question Ellie had to slam on her breaks to prevent herself from running a red light.

  'So much for wanting to take it slow' Ellie thought dryly.

  "Roan..."

  "You can tell me the truth, Ellie. I'm a big boy…I can take it."


  Ellie peered at the teenage boy and inwardly sighed. "As true as that maybe, I don't think I should be having this conversation with you. Your father and I care very much about each other…"

  "But you don't love him, not like that Nicholas guy." there was venom there, "I saw you too kissing, you know." He turned accusing eyes to Ellie. "I didn't tell my dad, it'd hurt him too much."

  Ellie's hand tightened around the steering wheel. "I'm sorry." She whispered forlornly. Lost as what to say.

  The remainder of the car ride was in strained silence and once Ellie parked the car, Roan quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his school bag and stormed out of the car, running into the high-rise building.

  Ellie followed at a more sedate pace primarily to give him some space and to gather her thoughts and garner strength for what she was about to do.

  ~*~*~*~

  Devlin tipped the decanter and poured the amber tinted contents into his glass tumbler. It went down smooth and exploded in his stomach. He poured another glass and slammed that one down too. The decanter had been full a few hours ago, now it barely had three fourths of the way before it was completely gone.

  He raked his hands through his disheveled mane as though the action alone could take away the memories of that conversation.

  He'd been there. He'd been right there, standing at the entrance of the porch like a fool, as he listened to his fiancé confess to her father that she was in love with another man. He'd heard everything and he'd felt gutted. Three years of his life reduced to shit. Devlin was not taking the rejection very well.

  He swallowed another shot of bourbon and swiped his hand on the lower part of his face, his jaw rough against his palm, he realized he hadn't cared to shave this morning--- or bathe for that matter.

  The effects of his fiancée’s betrayal did not permit him the leisure of grooming himself.

  He didn't even know how to feel. No fuck that, he was pissed off! Matter of fact he was feeling exceptionally violent. Violent enough that if he were to see Nicholas Grayson right now, he'd pummel his head into a bloody pulp and enjoy every second of it.

  The front door to his penthouse flew open and Devlin had only to turn his head slightly to see his son storm into his bedroom and slam the door behind him.

  Ellie appeared soon after and upon seeing Devlin, uncertainly smiled before closing the door behind her. She walked further into the room, feeling more and more like an intruder with every step she took until she came to a hesitant stop in front of Devlin. "Hi."

  Devlin drank her in, from the tips of her sandaled feet, to the top of her shoulder length hair. She was as beautiful as the very first time Devlin had laid eyes on her. Still just as breathtaking as the first time they'd gone out. Overcome with the sudden need to hold her close, Devlin gently pulled Ellie to him and embraced her. He held her close, pressed his face to the side of her neck and inhaled.

  Eucalyptus and mint, that was Ellie's signature scent. It was in the shampoo she used and the shower gel she always bought. It was a scent Devlin could always attribute to home, it was comfort and love.

  Without warning, Devlin scooped Ellie off her feet and carried her to his bedroom. "Dev…"

  "You owe me this." He stated.

  The surfeit of lights emitted from the city below and beams from the full moon above, gave Devlin ample lighting to see what he was doing as he entered his bedroom. He deposited Ellie on the bed and walked away to lock the door behind him.

  "Devlin," Ellie nervously licked her lips, rising to a sitting position she looked at the fatigued man bleakly staring at her. "We need to talk." Even to her own ears those words sounded like a death knell. The resounding claxon of a relationship headed for the guillotine. Ellie steeled herself. "There's something I need to tell you."

  Devlin pulled off his shirt and threw it somewhere on the floor. "It can wait," his jeans came off next.

  Ellie shook her head, stood up and moved away from the bed. "I'm not going to have sex with you, Devlin."

  "You think you have a choice in this?" Devlin questioned caustically as he advanced.

  Ellie slowly backed away. "Okay, I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer, because I know it's the alcohol talking…"

  "Have you fucked him yet? Or are you going to do that after you leave here?"

  "You're drunk and I'm leaving." Ellie headed for the door, Devlin blocked her path.

  "Don't leave, Ellie, I thought you wanted to talk." Devlin swept his arm through the air. "So let's talk. Let's have it out, babe. We both know it's been a long time coming."

  "I don't think you're in the right frame of mind to hear what I have to say, so maybe we should talk tomorrow."

  "How many times, Ellie? How many fucking times did I ask you whether you wanted to be with me?" His long strides immediately brought him to her. "How many times did I ask you whether it was me you loved!" with his hands tightly wrapped around Ellie's upper arms, Devlin shook her. "You lied! You continuously lied to me!"

  "I didn't lie!" Ellie tried to pull away but Devlin's grip remained firm. "I do love you Devlin, I do…"

  "But?"

  The tears came then and Ellie frantically blinked them away, she looked down.

  "No!" Devlin shook her again. " You don't get to fucking cry, Ellie. Goddamn it! Look me in the fucking face and tell me! Tell me how you love him more than me!" Hazel eyes shined with unshed tears but Devlin's heart was frozen to those pretty eyes and those unshed tears. He was immune and he'd had enough. "TELL ME!"

  "I love him. I never stopped."

  The confession hurt more than he'd ever thought it would. The ache was unmatched by anything he'd ever felt before. Even the pain of losing his father hadn’t been this profound.

  "I never meant for any of this to happen the way it did, Devlin," Ellie sobbed. "I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe me! I never wanted to hurt you!"

  Devlin released his grip on her arms, fearing that he'd shatter the bones if he didn't.

  "Dev…Dev please…" she reached for him but thought better of it as she covered her mouth instead, the tears running free.

  “I never stood a chance did I? The very second he came back, you knew, Ellie. You fucking knew and I felt it.”

  “I didn’t want this, Dev. Nicholas and I are…”

  "Did our relationship mean nothing? The three years, were they just lies?"

  "NO! I was happy with you!" Ellie furiously shook her head. "I loved you!"

  "Then why? Why him? Why now?"

  "I've loved him since I was eighteen." She whispered desperately, begging for understanding. "He…”

  "He…what, Ellie?"

  "He completes me, Devlin."

  "Wow,” his laughter was bitter and harsh. “Let’s push that knife a little deeper why don’t we? What the fuck was I Ellie, his substitute? We’re you keeping me around until he came back?”

  “I never thought of you like that. Not once. Please, try to understand, Devlin. I wanted to be with you, I wanted to marry you. But Nicholas coming back has awakened all these feelings I thought I’d buried a long time ago. I tried to deny it for so long now, lying to myself, to you. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t under good conscience commit myself to you feeling the way I do. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

  "GOD!" He roared, kicking the burgundy ottoman in the process. "WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET MARRIED!" he advanced on her again, cornering her this time against the solid wood armoire and his looming frame. "How can you do this to me, Ellie?" There was so much anguish in that one whisper, his dark blue eyes glossed over with unshed tears. "I love you." His lips brushed along hers. "Don't do this to me." He cupped her face and kissed her with desperation. Needing to hold this moment for just a while longer.

  "How can you ask me to live without you?" He asked, his warm lips pressed against Ellie's tears stained cheeks. "How can I just walk away? You're everything to me." Devlin held her back just as tightly. "Everything, Ellie."

  "I'm
so sorry.”

  "There's never going to be another you." He murmured hoarsely, his heart too big for his chest. It felt like it was going to rip through his sternum and fall at her feet.

  Ellie's body shook as she pulled away. Blinded by tears she reached inside her shirt and tugged on the chain around her neck. "Forgive me, Devlin. Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you." She pressed her engagement ring into Devlin's hand, chain and all.

  Devlin bent his head and woefully smiled. "I know." He pressed a lingering kiss to Ellie's forehead before finally allowing her freedom. She walked out of the bedroom and out of his life and Devlin thought death more fitting than the agony he was going through in that moment.

  * * *

  ~*~*~*~

  Having received a call from her grandson earlier this morning, Miranda had taken haste and promptly ordered her chauffeur to drive her to Devlin's penthouse apartment. The trip took far longer then she'd hoped, but upon arrival she slide across the leather seat of her town car and opened the door, much too hurried to wait for the chauffeur to do it for her. The echo of Roan's voice added an extra burst to her strides.

  The elevator ride was as torturous as the morning traffic pouring into their downtown metropolis, but finally the elevator stopped at its destination. The gilded elevator doors parted ways to display the twenty-fourth floor of the Voltaire. Renowned for its opulence and breathtaking views, the Voltaire boasted spacious rooms, wonderfully crafted fixtures, imported furniture and enough grandeur and pomp to satisfy even the most jaded royal.

  This was home to Devlin Westport.

  On the first year of their anniversary, Devlin had purchased this penthouse with Ellie's help, with the hope that they'd escape here, every year after that on the day they'd first met and share nothing but each other and they had---in all the three years since finding each other, they'd spent the night here. Those were fond memories, beautiful memories that constantly played in his mind's eye.