Chapter 16- The Kill
489 Words
It started with a party.
Of course it did. Rex loved to celebrate himself- the club’s anniversary, some fake charity event, another year of owning people velvet and glass. The place was draped in red, the staff in gold. Girls poured champagne like liquid surrender. The music was low and expensive.
Faith wore black. Simple. Silk. A slit like a blade down her thigh. She wasn’t dressed for seduction. She was dressed for war.
Rex called her to the VIP booth just after midnight. He was already a little drunk - smiling too wide, pupils a little too tight.
“You look dangerous tonight,” he said, voice low.
Faith smiled back. “You have no idea.” She handed him the velvet box. “A gift,” she said. He opened it. Inside, the flash drive. Black. Unlabeled. The kind of thing people ignore..until it’s too late.
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s on it?”
She leaned in. Whispered in his ear. “Your obituary.”
Across the city, five things happened at once:
• Miko released the files - financials, corruption, names of officials paid to keep the club’s sins buried.
• The video of Isabella - uploaded anonymously. Within minutes, it spread. Forums. Newsrooms. Police boards.
• Silas was arrested outside of his apartment - tipped off, set up, pinned as the scapegoat.
• The Velvet Rope’s accounts froze. Payments bounced. Lawyers panicked.
• And Rex’s enemies - old and waiting - descended like vultures with teeth.
The kingdom cracked. And no one knew where the fire started.
Except her.
Back in the club, Rex’s smile slowly faded as his phone buzzed.
Then buzzed again.
Then rang.
He didn’t answer. He looked at her. Eyes wide. Not angry. Not yet. Just confused. “You…did this?” Faith nodded once. He laughed - short, bitter. “You think they’ll follow you?”
“They already do.”
“They’ll turn on you.”
Faith leaned forward. “Then I’ll build something new from their bones.”
Rex stood. But he was off-balance. Not from alcohol. From fear. For the first time, he saw her. Not the girl he molded. Not the dancer in his bed. But the woman holding the blade. He didn’t reach for her. He wasn’t stupid. But he whispered : “I made you.”
Faith stepped past him. “No,” she said. “You gave me the fire. I chose to burn the empire.”
Later that night, Faith stood on the rooftop again.
The same rooftop where she’d once broken in silence. Now, the city roared below - sirens, reporters, people screaming about what they’d always known but were finally forced to see.
Fatima stood beside her. “Is he dead?” she asked.
Faith lit a cigarette. “No.”
“Then what is he?”
Faith exhaled smoke. Watched it disappear into the dark. “A warning.”
- Writer
