111: Take Her Out of the Picture

MICHEAL

Victory. I could taste it, like finely aged wine at the tip of my tongue.

The downfall of the Vaughn brothers was finally upon me, and I’d set up the grand stage for the first humiliating death.

That of the pompous bastard of the bunch. Logan’s.

It was all happening, right before me, and I was so overwhelmed with excitement that I had to hide my smile behind my wine glass while the UV light worked its magic on his pathetic self. From the second he mounted the stage, I could tell that he was in pain.

His attempt at saving face by manipulating the microphone was desperate and foolish, but I knew that everyone would soon know the real reason why his sentence was cut off. By the time his skin started go ablaze and burn to ashes, they’d see him as the undeserving asshole he was, the cursed weakling he truly was.

The more I watched him, the more my anticipation for his horrid increased.

My eyes weren’t doing enough justice as regards seeing the true extent of his pain, so I switched