Page 70 of Targeted By Vengeance

Hearing my father’s name fall so casually off his lips made my blood boil. I unhooked the gun on my hip and aimed it at his head. “Keep his name out of your motherfucking mouth,” I hissed.

He smiled. “You know, he would be ashamed if he knew what you’d turned into.”

“Maybe, but not as disappointed as he probably was in you.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I still remember his face the night I killed him. He gave me this long, heartfelt speech about fixing mistakes and justice and being a better man. For a second, I let him believe his words were getting to me. Feigned remorse, begged for his forgiveness - hell, I even gave him a hug. Then I emptied my clip on him.” He paused, the memory flashing behind his eyes. “I’ll never forget the shock in his eyes as the light faded from them. It almost made me feel bad.”

“Was it worth it? The money? The promotions? The power?”

“Every damn bit of it.”

I couldn’t hold myself back another moment. I stormed towards him, shoved his desk out of my way and smacked him across the face with my gun. “You are a pathetic-” I hit him again. “Heartless!” Another thwack. “Worthless!” I slammed my gun harder against his face, drawing blood. “Piece of shit!” I gripped up his collar and stared down at his bloody face. “He would have never, ever betrayed you like that! He was a good man! The best man!”

“And that’s what made him weak,” he spat, blood flying from his lips. “His strict moral compass led him to his own demise. If he would’ve kept his damn mouth shut and looked the other way, he’d still be alive right now. And so would you. All of this was preventable; he chose for it not to be.”

I shook my head. “Is that what you tell yourself? Do these lies help you sleep better at night?”

“Do yours?” He countered. “How many times did you tell yourself the trail of bodies was for your father when they were really for yourself?”

My brows pinched together, taken aback by his words.

He took my moment of confusion for weakness and shot up from his spot. One hand swiped the gun out of my hand while the other wrapped around my neck. He shoved me backwards onto the desk.

“You’re not avenging him,” Logan continued, his eyes lighting with a fire I’d never seen. “Justice was never bloodshed to him. No, you’re doing this to soothe your own rage, your own resentment - for everything we’ve taken from you.”

“No,” I murmured, squirming under his hold. “I’m not.”

“Such a hypocrite,” he continued, tightening his grip. “Calling me selfish when you’re just the same. At least I’m strong enough to look in the mirror and own my shit. When are you gonna grow up and own yours?”

“Right after I kill you.”

Logan’s brows came together. He must’ve thought he succeeded in throwing me off. Little did he know there was nothing he could say to deter me from what I had planned.

I lifted my feet up under his abdomen and pushed him off of me.

His body stumbled backwards, slamming into the wall behind him. Some of his framed certificates fell from the impact, clattering onto the floor.

I punched him in the face before he could recuperate. A knee to the gut followed, making him double over. I grabbed a handful of his hair and threw him down onto the floor.

“Simone,” he coughed as he tried to roll onto his back.

I kicked him in the face, turning him right back over. “That’s right, motherfucker,” I spat, giving him another kick. “Beg. Just like my father did. See how you fucking like it.”

He tried to grab my ankle on the next kick, but I dodged his hand. I plucked another gun from my waistband and shot him in the leg.

There was no bang from the silencer attached to the mouth, but Logan’s screams were just as loud. “Ah! Simone! What the hell are you-”

I pulled the trigger a few more times, avoiding every fatal spot. I didn’t want him dead too quickly. He deserved to feel this shit.

He hollered in agony as red bled through his clothes. His fingers clutched the wounds on his abdomen, desperate to stop the bleeding. “Simone! Simone, please! You’re better than this! You’re better than me!”

“No,” I said, my finger tightening around the trigger again. “I’m not.”

His body shook as bullets riddled through it, tearing through his skin and muscle. Blood splattered from the areas, decorating his awards and paperwork with red spots.

I kept my finger on the trigger until there were only soft clicks.

Logan’s body lay sprawled on the floor, eyes wide and mouth agape. A pool of blood formed underneath him, drowning his body in a sea of red.