Page 124 of Sing For Us

After my talk with Lana, I made tacos with the ingredients I bought, and now we’re leisurely waiting on my two friends.

“They’re here!” Hana shrieks and we all jump up.

We open the door and wait for Oliver’s car to pull up. The first one to step out is Adam. He looks happy and exasperated at the same time. He doesn’t need to explain to us why—Oliver. He steps out of the car and goes to the side where that piece of shit is. He opens it, and I start laughing once I see a handcuffed Evan.

A low, raspy chuckle that quickly unravels into a sharp, unhinged cackle of pure vindication escapes me.

Adam comes up to us and pinches his eyebrows. “If I need to hear another stupid, useless fact from Oliver, I’m going to fling myself off a building.”

I fucking knew it.

Oliver’s dragging Evan by holding him tightly in the neck and his hands.

“I got him! It was so fucking easy.” He’s merciless in his way of talking, and he can’t contain his glee.

“I can’t listen to this maniac anymore!” Evan screams at me, and I roll my eyes in response. Showing him how bored I am and how little he means to me.

Lana turns to me. “Maybe that should be a new torturing technique? Having Oliver spew useless facts?”

“Good suggestion.” I laugh and put my arm around her, guiding her back into the house.

Once we are all gathered in the house, Oliver looks at us and shakes Evan.

“Where do I put him?” he asks, and I debate whether to have him dragged to my basement or to do the deed here. Then I remember what Lana and Sara said about uneventful deaths.

He doesn’t deserve a great ending.

“In the garden on a chair. I don’t want his blood staining my carpets.” I look around and make a disgusted face. That seems to aggravate Evan as he spits on the carpet.

“Fuck you! Take your hands off me!” His voice is getting louder, and I sigh.

Evan might portray himself as this ruthless assassin, but he’s everything but that. This man is a pathetic, vulgar incel, and his hits were exclusively women—especially women he found attractive.

Yuck.

His entire identity is based on his manhood, particularly his dick. And that gives me a great idea.

“Change of plans.” I gleefully say to Oliver. “You won’t bring him outside; Sara will.”

The color drains from Evan’s face, he knows of Sara and her call-off sign. One of the most ruthless female assassins and her love of dick-slicing is going to treat him like her pet.

She rubs her hands and walks over to Oliver. “Hand him over.”

He hands Evan over, and I swear I can smell piss. This idiot pissed himself.

“Let’s go outside, piss boy.” Sara’s playing her part beautifully—not looking at him when she speaks.

We follow her outside, and Hana takes a chair and places it on the grass near my patio. Once he’s forced to sit down, Sara takes a squat position and pulls his pants down.

“Your dick is so fucking small.” I love Sara so much. Evan wants to say something, but Adam stops him.

“Ah, ah, ah, that’s my woman. She’ll kill you for talking to her.” Evan has always hated Adam because he’s the exact opposite of what he is.

Sara places the pointy end of the knife right at the base of Dick's dick, and now it’s my turn. I inch closer to him, along with Lana.

“Here’s the deal. You’ll get to live and keep your dick if you tell us everything we need to know.” The lie tastes sweet because he’s, of course, going to die.

“Please don’t take my dick. I’ll tell you everything!” He sounds so pathetic. This only highlights how Dario’s reliance on "fear" fails, because a coward will always save his own skin first.