"Bullet, please shut up. This is between me and Alexander," I say, mustering enough reproach in my voice that Jackson flinches and Alexander nods approvingly. I make a note to myself to apologize to Jackson later.

  "Anything. Anywhere," I repeat to Alexander. “Whatever you want.”

  He takes another step. It is a test of my will to stay still as he approaches. He's almost where I want him, but not quite.

  "You really mean it, don't you? You'd let me fuck you, right here, right in front of him," Alexander says, licking his lips. "Think of it, Bullet. You can watch as I fuck the woman that was to be my wife. You can watch as I fuck her ass, as I make her scream my name before I cum all over her pretty face. Would you like that? Would you like to see a real man fuck the woman you love?"

  One more step. Just one more.

  Suddenly, there's a noise. A sharp, shocking click, followed by a swishing noise as the heavy wooden door to the changing room opens, revealing Rook and Thunder. They’re both carrying guns, both frozen with shocked looks all over their faces the second they see me standing nearly naked in the middle of an armed standoff.

  "Who the fuck are you?" Alexander says. Then he makes a fatal error: he turns toward the newcomers; he leaves himself open.

  I scream, and I strike. Strike with every ounce of rage that has burned inside me over the four years that I have endured Alexander’s miserable malevolence. I launch myself at him, clawing at his face, my fingernails digging furrows in his cheeks, his forehead, and his left eye.

  He howls like an animal.

  Something wet sputters and soaks my right hand—blood, and something more. Something clear and sticky. Visceral fluid from his punctured eyeball.

  In a wild arc, he swings and the butt of the gun hits the side of my head, sending me stumbling.

  "You bitch," he screams, clutching his hand over the socket of his ruined eye. "You maniacal bitch. How fucking dare you?"

  "It's the least you deserve, you miserable prick," I snap. My heart skips a beat as he aims the gun directly at my head and my focus shrinks to a single point: the muzzle of the pistol, from which the end of my life is about to emerge.

  But just as he's about to pull the trigger, there's a voice. Jackson's voice.

  "Hey, asshole," he says, his fist already cocked back and flying toward Alexander's ruined face. "Don't you fucking dare threaten her." Jackson's fist connects with brutal force, snapping Alexander’s head backward. Then he hits him with another, and a third punch sends my former fiance to his knees. An uppercut sends a tooth flying free of his bloody mouth, the impeccably white incisor landing on the far side of the room.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” Jackson growls as he hits him over and over, with fists, with knees, with elbows, with kicks, until Alexander is a broken, bloody man kneeling on the ground in front of the man I love, his hands clasped in a praying gesture as he begs for a reprieve from Jackson's merciless onslaught.

  "That's enough," I call out, but Jackson doesn't seem to hear me.

  Getting to my feet, I run to him, grab him by the shoulder and, when that fails to stop the violence, I seize him by the ear and twist.

  "Ow! Fuck," he says. “Lay off, Maddy.”

  "That's enough. We can't kill him. Not right now. We'd spend the rest of our lives being hunted by the FBI."

  "So you're going to just let him get away? After all he's done to you, you're going to let him walk?"

  "No, I'm not saying that," I say. Truth is, my heart is filled with rage just looking at the battered remnants of Alexander's face. I want to do so much more. Briefly, I envision the two of us attacking my ex-fiance, battering him, ruining him, until he’s no longer a threat to anyone. It'd be the least that Alexander deserves.

  But that's not the right answer.

  I look at Rook and Marcus, who both are still standing awkwardly in the doorway, guns raised, faces marked with shock. "Leave us."

  "Fucking gladly," Rook says.

  "You sure you're good, Maddy?" Marcus says.

  "I'm good, Thunder," I say, using his road name in the off chance that Alexander doesn't know his real identity. The last thing I want to do is give my vengeful ex another target to pursue.

  "You holler if you need us," Thunder says, then he and Rook both leave.

  "He still needs to pay for everything he’s done," Jackson says.

  "In a minute," I say. Then I take a second and just look at my groveling worm of an ex. He's pathetic. More pathetic than I've ever seen him. But he still hasn't suffered enough.

  Then I look at Jackson, at the collection of wounds, the blood, the bruises, the injuries he took on just to keep me safe, again, even though I'd rejected him. When it counts, he's proven himself to be the one I can count on. And he’s shown himself willing to sacrifice himself, and even that hate he’s carried for all these years, just for my sake.

  That's love.

  "I really love you," I say. My heart, my voice, my entire body goes warm just saying those words to the man who inspires such intense feelings within me. "I've known it all along. Even if fear or doubt made me run from it for a time, I really, truly love you." Then my eyes go to Alexander, disdain and anger assuming control of my voice. "And I hate him. The stuff he threatened me with, from the beginning of our relationship until just seconds ago, makes me so angry that I want to murder him. But we can’t. Instead, there’s something else we can do. Jackson, would you like to give Alexander a taste of his own medicine?"

  "What do you mean?" Jackson says.

  "He threatened to do something in front of you, as if he actually had the talent or even the equipment to make that something happen. From what I know in dealing with insecure, pathetic men like him, they base those threats on things that they fear. Do you remember what he threatened to do to me?”

  "I follow. You want to hurt him the same way he wanted to hurt us. Sounds like justice to me. How about we make him comfortable first?" Jackson says. Then he casts his eyes about the room, looking for something, before they settle on the lacy pile that is my wedding dress. "How attached are you to that dress?"

  "I love how I look in it, but I hate everything it represents."

  "Then let's put it to good use," Jackson says. He kneels down to pick up the gun that'd fallen from Alexander's hands and he casually aims it at him. "Sit there like a good boy while we do some work."

  Then he rips a long strip from my dress. Then another. And another. After ripping many strips of fabric, he begins to braid and knot them together, forming a rope. Then he repeats this process until we have several long lengths of lacy rope.

  "Sit down over there," Jackson says, directing Alexander to a chair. Then Jackson hands me the gun. "I'm going to tie him up. If he moves, if he even says something disrespectful, kill the whiny bitch."

  Jackson binds my ex to the chair.

  Alexander doesn't move. Doesn't even make a sound except to let out a broken whimper.

  Once finished, Jackson comes to me. "What now?"

  "This," I say. Then I kiss him. My lips meet his with a vengeance, powered by the fiery mix of fury, love, and lust that fills me in that moment. That kiss leads to another. Then another. On and on with heat until my bra is loose in Jackson's good hand, until his lips are on my breast, until his tongue is circling my nipple while I loudly, vociferously urge him to suck my tits.

  On the other side of the room, Alexander squirms, his face going red with embarrassment, with fury, and I increase the volume of my lusty cries, begging Jackson to kiss, lick, and suck my tits.

  I want Alexander to watch what he will never have again, what he never deserved in the first place; I want to emasculate that asshole and make him feel like the powerless, pathetic loser that he is.

  "Yes, just like that," I moan, no, scream. "I love how you suck my tits. Oh god, you are so good." I wink at Alexander, delighting in the way he squirms, in the way his face goes from red to impotently furious purple. “Do you like my tits, Jackson? Do you like sucking on them?”

  "You taste so fucking good," Jackson murmurs. "I love the way your nipples get so fucking hard in my mouth, Maddy."

  "I love it, Bullet.” I roll my head back, letting my hair go all over the place. Momentarily, I look into Alexander’s eye, meet his furious gaze, and smile at him. “But I need you to eat my pussy now." My hands leave his head, slide slowly down my body to pull my panties off my hips. They get halfway down my thighs before Jackson takes over, ripping them down and off, before burying his face between my legs.

  "Oh. Oh yes," I gasp as his tongue deftly strokes my wet pussy. "No one does it like you, Jackson. Everyone else—oh, everyone else has been such a letdown. You’re the only one I’ve been with who knows how to eat my pussy."

  "I love how you taste, baby," he says, his mouth never leaving my pussy. "I love how you sound when I eat you, and I can’t wait to make you cum for me.”

  "Oh Jackson, I love the way you tongue my pussy. Please, don’t stop, I’m almost there."

  “I won’t stop, Maddy. I won’t stop until you’ve cum all over my face.”

  “Yes, oh god, yes.” My breath comes in quick, short pants as my orgasm rushes over me, fierce and unrelenting, flooding my body with heat and wet-hot electricity. I scream. "I'm cumming, Jackson! Oh please, don’t stop—I’m cumming."

  Suddenly, I collapse into Jackson's arms, leaning against him as my orgasm rolls over me and then subsides in a rush that leaves me breathless.

  Then I look over at Alexander. His eyes—no, eye, I remind myself—is bugging out of its socket and there are veins that I’ve never seen before throbbing in his neck and forehead. "It was never—and I mean never—like that with you, Alexander. You were always pathetic in bed, and anyone who’s ever told you otherwise—even that bitch, Ashley—was lying to you to protect your puny ego."

  Jackson stands, licking his lips and grinning lasciviously.

  "You always taste so good. Nothing has ever come close to how delicious your pussy is. Whoever would even think about giving you up has to be the biggest moron alive."

  Laughing, I take a second to look Jackson over, my eyes drifting from his handsome face still wet with my juices down his body to his groin, where his cock presses hard against his pants.

  "I need to suck your cock. I need your big cock in my mouth right now."

  "You know how much I fucking love your mouth, baby," Jackson says. Then he takes my hand, leading me to a couch that sits nearby. We sit down. I kneel in front of him. My hands undo the fly on his jeans. His cock springs free, the crown glistening with precum.

  I capture the crown between my lips, licking it, tasting the essence of precum on Jackson's cock. Then I take his cock into my mouth, filling my mouth with the shaft. I bob my head back and forth, sucking, teasing, loving the way Jackson's head rolls from side to side, the way his hands run through my hair, the way he moans.

  When his cock is pulsing, throbbing, on the verge of releasing between my lips, I stop. I'm too wet and I can't take it anymore; I need to ride him.

  "Lie back," I say, planting my hands on Jackson's chest and pushing him back on the couch.

  "I'm so close," he murmurs.

  "Then hold the fuck on," I say, giving his cock a few gentle, calming slaps. "Hold on long enough to fuck my brains out."

  After a deep inhale, Jackson nods and I climb atop him, holding his cock at the entrance to my pussy. Then I shut my eyes, rubbing the head of his cock against my pussy, a quick, teasing motion that sends blissful shockwaves up my body. Just as it becomes overwhelming, I lower myself, gasping aloud as he fills me.

  Fuck, it feels so good.

  "Oh, fuck," Jackson groans, his hands sliding up the small of my back to my shoulders. "You're so fucking tight. I can't take it. I can’t hold back."

  Then Jackson thrusts upward.

  “Don’t hold back. Fuck me like you mean it, Jackson.” I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on as he fucks me hard, as his cock pounds my pussy. "Oh god, I love how you feel inside me. I love your thick cock."

  He sits up, his lips finding my nipples and teasing them, his hands cupping my breasts, his hands gripping my ass. I moan, crying out his name as his cock hits my g-spot, sending a blistering wave of pleasure through my body

  "Oh my god, Jackson," I gasp. "I'm so close. I'm so fucking close."

  "I'm almost there. Fuck, your tight cunt feels amazing.”

  I'm on the edge of orgasm, the wave rising in my body. I let it build. I let it rise.

  "Cum with me, baby," Jackson says, thrusting his hips against me. "Cum with me."

  Then Jackson's cock throbs, twitching inside me. It throbs again. Then again. I grip Jackson's shoulders, digging my fingernails into his flesh as my orgasm overtakes me, my pussy tightening around his cock.

  Jackson slaps my ass. His voice is deep, guttural, charged. "I'm fucking cumming, baby."

  "That's it," I moan. "Cum for me. Cum inside me."

  I push into him, feeling his cock pulse between my legs, feeling his hot cum filling me, feeling my own orgasm drown me like a tidal wave.

  "Oh my god, Madison. I fucking love you." Then Jackson kisses me, his tongue dancing with mine as his cock continues to pulse inside me.

  I'm still catching my breath when Jackson sits up; he pulls me to him, kissing me again, cupping my ass in his hands. I'm still impaled by his cock, his cum dripping out of my pussy.

  "I love you," I whisper, my lips moving against his. “I’ve only ever loved you.”

  "I love you, too," Jackson says, his lips finding my nipples, teasing them, sending another wave of pleasure through me. "Everything about you."

  We spend a few minutes there on the couch, just kissing, just holding each other. It's a sublime feeling to have him back in my life, to know how much he truly cares for me, to feel important to someone other than myself.

  A look over my shoulder reveals Alexander still watching, his face now a deep, nearly black color, his one good eye wide open, dilated, bloodshot.

  This is killing him.

  And I love it.

  "What now?" Jackson says, noticing my eyes on my ex.

  I stand, still covered in sweat, in spit, in sex, and walk until I'm standing directly in front of him. With my hands on my hips, I stare directly into his good eye, unflinching, unafraid. "I beat you. And, not only did I beat you, but I kept the evidence: the recording that could sink your family's company and ruin your family fortune. So this—everything you witnessed, everything that's happened to you—is us being merciful. We're going to leave you here, and, eventually, someone will find you and set you free. You'll live, and you'll never hear from us again. But if you try to fuck with us, that recording will make it's way public and it will ruin everything you hold dear. Do you understand me, Alex?"

  His reply is a helpless, quavering nod.

  I smile.

  Then I turn to Jackson.

  "Let's go, my love, he's not worth another second of our time."

  Epilogue: Madison

  "Madison Sinclair."

  Five simple syllables call me from my seat and make my heart swell in my chest.

  I straighten my cap and gown, symbols of the countless hours and sleepless nights poured into my education; everything I've fought for, suffered for, is draped around me, enveloping me, protects me and adorns me. With each step to the podium, confidence and a sense of empowerment grow within me.

  I’ve earned this.

  "Congratulations," says Professor Braithewaite as he shakes my hand and passes me my diploma. It's a struggle to keep my diploma in a steady grip; it feels both weighty and insubstantial, a simple piece of heavy stock paper that carries so much potentiality. "You’ve truly impressed me, Ms. Sinclair," he adds in a whisper as I stand beside him fighting back tears, taking a quick second to soak in the sight of the crowd around me and the sound of their polite applause. To them, they're clapping out of rote respect for another smiling graduate. For me, this moment is so much more. "I thought your paper was especially brilliant, by the way. I've had several copies made, as some colleagues of mine at other universities wanted to read it. They may contact you. Enjoy this moment, Ms. Sinclair."

  "Thank you," I respond in a similarly quiet whisper. “For everything.”

  For one more second, I stand with my diploma held delicately in my hands, basking, my eyes shimmering with pride. I’ve made it.

  As I make my way back to my seat, a wide smile spreads across my face, and I glance over the crowd, my eyes searching. Finally, I spot them—my parents, Jackson, Elena, Rook, Eliza, and Thunder—some of them beacons of unwavering support and unquestionable love, while others, like my parents, are those who know they've lost their way and are doing their best to atone for it, but everyone is here to support me. They’re all dressed in their finest attire, though for Jackson, Rook, and Thunder that still means they are the most casually dressed members of the audience. Still, each of them is cheering for me and their genuine happiness and love washes over me, filling me with a profound sense of happiness, pride, and fulfillment; I am surrounded by family—some chosen, some by blood—and all of them believe in me.

  In this moment, I feel incredible.

  When the ceremony ends, I break away from the crowd like a rocket.

  Unbidden tears streak my face as I seek Jackson first, crushing him in an embrace and kissing him a dozen times before I turn to the rest of my family. Their eyes sparkle with pride as they surround me, forming a wall of love. Except for one notable absence: Rook; he stands aside from the group, arms tightly folded across his chest, radiating a dangerous energy that no one is brave enough to even question. For a moment I worry, but then his lips twitch up in a smile and he winks at me; he’ll never join the group hug, but it is nice to know he appreciates me.

  When the hug breaks, my father pulls me into a separate hug. It’s tight, and I let out a contented sigh in his arms.

  "I am so proud of you, Maddy," he says. "So very proud."