Chapter 3

Karma sat back in her booth, lifted her untouched drink, and watched her father drain his fourth glass of whiskey.

Mia walked fast.

She changed into something tighter—a red dress that barely covered anything. Reapplied her lipstick. Sprayed more perfume. Then catwalked straight to Marcus's table, leaned over so he got a full view of her full bouncy boobs, and whispered something in his ear.

His face instantly lit up like a kid ready to open his gifts on Christmas morning.

Twenty minutes later, they left together. His arm around her waist, her heels clicking beside his heavy footsteps. The other officers whistled and cheered, while Marcus threw them a salute and grinned.

Karma had watched from her booth, with her phone in her hand. She already paid for the room in cash, using a fake name before she went to the club. And already placed the blindfold in the nightstand drawer. So she texted Mia the address of the Hotel and the room number to be certain there will be no mistakes. 

Dr Karma waited another hour. Finished her drink. Left a hundred euro tip for the bartender who hadn't asked questions.

Then she drove to the Hotel Belvedere.

The lobby was empty except for the night concierge—an old man with spots and thick glasses, absorbed in his newspaper. He didn't look up as she walked past, silently on the marble floor.

She took the stairs instead of the elevator. Four flights and Room 447 was at the end of the hallway, away from the other occupied rooms, with loud music blasting from each room, one could hardly hear themselves. And the smell of cigarettes and cheap alcohol filled the hallway. 

Perfect.

She had chosen this hotel for a reason. It was an old building with thick walls and terrible security cameras that only covered the front entrance and lobby. No footage of the upper floors, and no rules whatsoever. 

She stood outside the door, pulled on latex gloves, adjusted her white coat. From her hand bag, she took out her pen knife—surgical steel, which was sterilized. Professional habits died hard.

She pressed her ear to the door.

She heard creaking sounds, fast breathing. Mia's voice was loud, as she was moaning. Karma couldn't tell if it was real or fake, but it was not her business.

Karma pulled out the spare keycard and slid it through the reader.

The lock clicked open.

She pushed the door hard. It slammed against the wall with a crack like a gunshot.

Wood splintered as the door crashed against the wall. 

Mia's body went rigid. A scream tore from her throat in fear.

"What's happening?" Marcus yanked at the restraints. The metal bit into his skin. "Who's there? What—"

Karma walked in calmly, not in a hurry and unbothered, with the knife in her hand. She reached for the door and shut it.

"Please!" Mia's voice cracked. "I did everything—everything you asked! Please—"

"Off."

Immediately, Mia vanished from Marcus's body. Panicking, she looked around for her belongings, while Marcus rustled his feet trying to save himself. 

"Who are you?" Marcus's throaty plea rang out desperately. "Please—I have money, credit cards, whatever you need—just don't hurt me—please—"

The footsteps stopped beside the bed.

Silence.

Marcus's chest heaved. Sweat rolled down his temples. The blindfold which clung to his face was already damp with sweat.

Karma stood over Marcus's naked body, she then reached for her bag, and brought out a ball that could fit into a mouth, she leaned on the bed and slashed his cheek with the knife. Horrified, Marcus opened his mouth to scream, but Karma placed the ball into his mouth, stopping him from screaming. She then covered his mouth with a cloth, tying it firmly by the side.

Karma stood up and walked over to Marcus's limp dick, with pain in her eyes she remembered every evil he caused with it, she held his limp dick in her hands and was furious as she watched it come alive.

“This monster is still getting turned on, even in this situation?!” She smirked, and scoffed and in a swift motion she sliced his dick off. 

Too bad she couldn't get everything out at once, so she kept slicing till it was completely off. And just like a child holding her award, she happily lifted it up like a champion, ignoring the blood splashing and the vigorous movement of her father on the bed.

Tears had caused a streak down his face, as it was obvious he had run out of tears. He was heaving and gasping for air.

When she had had enough of her victorious moment, she reached for his blindfold, her fingers touching the silk gently. Almost as if she was caressing him.

The fabric slipped away.

Light entered his eyes. He blinked, squinting against the light. A figure stood beside the bed. A young female, with dark hair pulled into a tight bun. A coat over black clothing. Her face was cold and held no expression.

But the eyes. Those eyes—

And that was when he recognised her.

"No." The word came out broken. "No—you can't—"

Her lips curved. The smile was eerie, it stopped at her cheek, and never touched those dead, empty eyes.

"Hello, Father."

She said dangling his sliced dick happily, “see what we have here.”

Then she burst into laughter till she had tears coming out of her eyes.

When she calmed herself, she sighed, becoming sad again, then she raised the knife that flashed in the light, “this is for everyone you have ever caused pain. Let us start with me.”

And in one smooth motion, she slit his throat.

Blood sprayed across his chest. He tried to speak, but only gurgling sounds escaped his mouth. Karma climbed on the bed and stood over his head, placing her Christian Louboutin heels over his mouth, and with one forceful push down, she matched firmly on the ball in his mouth, causing it to enter his throat.

The last thing Marcus saw was his daughter wiping the blade on his shirt, her cold, empty expression never changing.

Then came darkness.

She wiped the blade on his shirt—a designer label, probably cost more than most people earned in a month. She folded the knife with a soft ‘click’, and tucked it into her coat pocket.

Behind her, unknown to her, pressed against the wall, Mia stood whimpering and horrified, throwing up after witnessing all that had happened.

Karma rolled her eyes nonchalantly, “I thought you left?” She walked over to where Mia stood shivering, “tsk tsk tsk tsk! He deserved it. And no, I am not evil. I am actually serving justice because everyone he had hurt, which includes a ten years old boy who is currently in the hospital, because that monster sexually molested him and threatened him. So you see, I am the good guy here.” Karma turned to look at her handwork, satisfied with a bright smile on her face. “Oooohhh! Your balance. Mtchew, I forgot. I have cash, hope you don't mind taking cash?” She said, still smiling. 

Without waiting for an answer she pointed to her pocket, Mia reached in and brought out a bundle of money. “That's for you. It was nice doing business with you.”

"You can go now," she said.

Mia didn't move. Just stood there, naked except for her underwear, mascara streaking down her cheeks.

"I said go." Karma commanded.

Mia grabbed her dress from the floor, clutching it to her chest as she stumbled toward the door. Her hands shook so badly it took three attempts to turn the handle. Then she was gone, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Dr Karma Kuntz stood in the silence, studying the body on the bed. 

Chief Inspector Marcus Kuntz. 

Decorated officer. 

Father of the year, according to the plaques in his office. 

Pillar of the community.

Monster.

She pulled out her phone, snapped three photographs for documentation and evidence for her own records, not theirs.

From her hand bag, she retrieved a pair of gloves—latex. She pulled them on with ease, then moved through the room. Wiping surfaces. Collecting the silk blindfold, and the handcuffs—those went into a plastic bag. 

No prints. 

No DNA. 

No trace.

Twenty minutes later, she stood at the door, her bag in hand. The room looked like a crime scene—because it was. But it looked like the right kind of crime scene. Messy, passionate, justice.

She pulled off the gloves, tucked them away, smoothed down her coat.

Dr Karma Kuntz, walked out of Room 447 of the Hotel Belvedere at 2:47 AM. 

Down the hallway, through the stairs and through the lobby.

The night concierge didn't even look up from his newspaper.

Outside, it was visible that it had rained earlier. She tilted her face toward the sky, letting the drops cool her skin. The Gothic design of the old cathedral loomed in the distance, black against the sky. Somewhere beyond the streets, a siren wailed.

But it was not his.

Not yet.

She smiled to herself. 

The cleaning cart rattled as Rosa pushed it down the fourth floor hallway. Her shift started at 6 AM—too early for most guests to be awake, late enough that the night stragglers had usually passed out or left.

She hummed softly, sorting through her supplies. Fresh towels. Miniature soaps. Those awful little bottles of shampoo that never worked properly.

Room 447 was at the end. She knocked twice. Waited.

No answer.

She knocked again. "Housekeeping!"

Silence.

Rosa pulled out her master key, slid it through the reader. The lock clicked. She pushed the door open, cart first.

"Hello? Housekeeping, I'm—"

The words died in her throat.

Blood. 

Everything was bloody.

The bed, the walls, and even the carpet.

A man lay spread out across the mattress, with his arms stretched above his head, wrists connected to the headboard with—were those handcuffs? His throat opened like a second mouth. His eyes stared at the ceiling, empty.

She screamed as fear rippled through her whole body.