Page 83 of Fatal Fantasy

“Your wish is my command, Principessina.” I dump gasoline all over the dead body, soaking the corpse to ensure it goes up like an inferno.

With one flick of the torch, a burst of blues and oranges ignite from the tip, and just as the flames begin to lick his rotting flesh, I meet Carter’s gaze once more, her eyes alight with satisfaction as I burn her abuser, reducing the body that once hurt her to dust.

“Beautiful,” she breathes, marveling at the sight as the fire roars to a smoldering blaze, the smell of burning flesh and ash filling the air, ricocheting off the metal walls.

“Let’s get you to bed, baby girl,” Tyson whispers, her eyes fluttering shut as she cocoons into his chest once more, officially closing this chapter of her life.

There’s one more name at the top of our list, underlined in red with extra emphasis on the urgency of his capture, but after playing with my girl all night, we need to rest before we step onto the battlefield against our greatest adversary.

Today is finally the day.

After thousands of miles traveled, plans concocted in the dead of night, and a heavy dose of confidence, we’re finishing Carter’s journey with the murder of her father.

Of course, her heart is heavy, and she’s been silent since we left the hotel, but deep down, we know that this is for the best, the only way we can guarantee our freedom.

The rest of our lives begins the second the Don inhales his final breath, but first, we have to intercept him, stopping his car before he reaches the wedding venue.

Of course, we turned the groom into a pile of ash, but none of the guests know that yet, and this sham of a ceremony is still on.

Right about now, they’re expecting Carter for hair and makeup, maybe even gearing up to fit her dress one last time, but before the clock spins to mark the beginning of a new hour, we’ll be too busy with death to even remember the arranged marriage, recalling crimes that have cut much deeper than selling Carter off to the highest bidder.

“We’re three miles away, Carter, are you ready for this?” Tyson asks from the driver’s seat, the control freak that operates within his mind taking the reins for this mission.

I’m content letting him lead us in the capture portion of this operation, my certain set of skills much more useful once we actually have our hostage, and my hands are itching to get ahold of the prey that’ll likely outshine every single man I’ve ever killed.

“It’s him or us,” Carter recites, her robotic tone of voice alarming, but I know that she’s switching her mindset, finding a place to comfortably reside inside of her consciousness amidst the horrendous act of family betrayal she’s about to commit.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Carter. Remember, we’re right here,” I remind her, but she shrugs me off with a simple head shake, not interested in any semblance of tenderness.

“I’ve got this. You better remember your promise, Jasper.” She spins around to the backseat, making eye contact, but her pupils are fully blacked out, the baby blue nowhere in sight as she transitions into the cold-blooded version of the girl I love.

“Hey, that’s the last option, right? The plan z, the failsafe, the ripcord on the parachute … not even close to my first option if he lands a finger on you,” I say sternly, making sure that those pesky suicidal thoughts are completely banished, and holding onto the hope that since we rescued her, we’ve restored her desire to live.

“I fantasized about my death for months … I thought about what it’d be like to inhale my final breaths, wondering if I’d see the two of you in the ending montage of my life, and I’m just so thankful that as we approach what could be our last day, you’re both here with me. If we die tonight, I’ll happily die yours.” She swipes at the tears forming on her lash line, shaking her head as more stream down her cheeks, but I don’t argue with her, knowing that she’s put herself into a mentality where murdering her father is okay – even if we die too.

It takes a lot to truly get into that place, to create a plan that includes the execution of your own flesh and blood, but Carter’s a different monster than me, solely because she’s about to live this scenario out in real time, whereas mine was always just a fantasy.

“I’ll die yours, Principessina,” I say, lacing my fingers through hers, kissing the tops of her knuckles as she sighs in relief, finally understanding that I have no plans to stray from the most important promise I’ve ever made.

“I’ll die yours, baby girl,” Tyson repeats, making this moment another one of our twisted vows, but in true fashion, Carter just laughs, a smirk crossing her lips as all our gazes meet in the middle.

“How far, Tyson?” Carter asks, immediately switching back into the fearless warrior that she is, ending the sentimental conversation exactly where she wants it to lay.

Thanks to Tyson, we were able to hack the GPS of the Don’s car, and when it left the Villas, we were on the road less than two minutes later, taking a route that runs parallel to his vehicle in order to stay out of sight, and pinpoint the exact moment we’ll cross the perpendicular line, crashing straight into him.

We’re bringing this fight to the desert, nothing but cactuses and tumbleweeds for miles, but with Tyson’s ability to create fake detours, we’re able to control the battlefield, ensuring that when we hit the Don, we won’t be missing.

There are a few factors that we’ve accounted for as well, like the amount of men he travels with, and a secondary car with Carter’s uncle following half a mile behind, but by the time we’re through, her bloodline will be nothing but a puddle in the desert sand.

“Half a mile. Buckle up,” he says, stepping on the gas as the highway begins to blur, the beige scenery becoming nothing but a flash of monotone color as we bang a quick right onto the connector road.

In a split second, the parallel highway comes into view, and like clockwork, a black SUV blows past, and Tyson doesn’t skip a beat, cranking the wheel and flooring it until we’re riding their bumper.

Our pickup truck is straight off the lot, a brand new model from one of Carter’s relatives’ legitimate businesses, and she was able to sweet-talk him into a steep discount, playing it off as if it were a wedding present for her fake husband, and he barely blinked, giving in to her charm instantly.

She marketed it as a complete surprise, ensuring that after the reception, it’d be their ‘just married’ car, and conning the poor man into a state of silence, keeping our presence in California quiet so as to not tip off her father.

“Here we go!” Tyson yells over the roar of the motor, crashing into their rear end with force, jerking all of our heads forward at the impact, but he remains in control, steering the wheel with precision as he smashes into the car repeatedly.