Aria: Devil's Spawn Book 2

ARIA

Under his piercing glare, I've never felt more vulnerable. There's so much riding on the success of our plan. I can't let him win. Anxiety riddles my nerves. Fight-or-flight instincts kick in. Even with both hands bound and tied, I must fight. This isn't the time to show weakness. I need to stand tall. It's not easy, though. Even after all this time, I want to shrink in his presence. It's like my body has yet to forget the chaotic torture he put me through. Our past triggers me on a debilitating level. A nightmarish flood of déjà vu runs through my head like a horror movie that can't be turned off. Memories of his razor blade digging into my flesh consume me. Against my will, I recall the sick, twisted ways he used to torment Maya and me at Hawkins. The locked doors. The dark rooms. The times he touched us without consent. The shit he forced us to do. The staggering despair that he rammed down our throats on a daily basis.

A coil of unease chokes my resolve. Even though I was the brilliant idiot who orchestrated this godawful reunion, a part of me still can't believe that him and I are mere inches apart right now. To be close enough to breathe the same air as Juan Pablo makes me want to retch all over again.

Even though he has yet to sink blade in me, the scars on my belly begin to throb. The reaction feels instinctive. It's like my subconscious recognizes the danger looming ahead.

But it's going to be okay, everything will work out, I reassure myself, you're not going to die.

Nicco has my back. My mic and camera are on. Every moment from here on out will be captured on video. Authorities are on standby. The FBI. The NYPD. The SWAT team are here, too. Once I signal for them to come, they should be able to reach me within minutes.

My jaw hardens.

I only need to stay the course for a short while longer. I know what I have to do. Over the next few minutes, I'll use everything I've learned over the years about Juan Pablo's warped psyche and lead him to the hellish ending he deserves. Every grudge he's holding against me can be used to fuel his ire. Every button he has must be pushed. Every open wound will be salted. Only then will the fucker lose his cool. Only then will he unknowingly confess to his sins in excruciatingly condemning detail.

It's go time.

The fun has barely begun. Now that his murder confession is out of the way, I want him to admit to all of the white-collar crimes we've committed together at Jackson & James and J.M. Weiss. I want the authorities to indict him on a list of charges so long that he won't ever be able to escape prosecution.

With my game face on, I force myself to laugh in his face as though I'm not about to pee my pants. "There. All done. Your shoes are clean, and the floor looks spotless. Happy now?"

"I won't be happy until you're dead."

"In that case, thanks for not killing me yet, I guess."

"I'm only taking my time here because you deserve a slow and painful death."

I blow him a mocking kiss. "To think that you're going through all this trouble for little, old me. I'm flattered."

"Don't get smart, bitch."

"Or else... what?" I retort, "I'll end up like Maya? I must say. Your lack of creativity is a bit disappointing."

Juan Pablo's features contort with fury. He clearly preferred fear over a flippant attitude. I bet he expected me to keep shaking in my boots. His hand shoots out to seize my throat, digging into flesh and cutting off my breath. I gasp and struggle against his hold.