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His heart thumped madly in his chest as he waited to see the old familiar face of the serial killer whom he detested more than anyone. Well, that wasn’t completely true. There was one other person he hated just as much – himself. Although it was practically one and the same if he wanted to get technical about it.

What a cruel fucking irony his life had become.

He hated his mother too, though not quite as much. At least she had an excuse, albeit a pathetic one, for her cruelty – alcoholism. He, on the other hand, had a tainted bloodline to blame for his behavior and sadism.

Just like the murderer he was about to face.

A solid ten minutes later, Anthony Bruce came into the room, exuding the same overconfidence and smugness that Mr. Black had adopted over the years.

“Well lookie who’s decided to grace me with his fuckin’ presence.”

Anthony’s contemptuous statement raked over Victor. He took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to appear unaffected.

“I can only guess why your Royal Faggotness decided to show his face around here,” Anthony continued. “You want to know about that killer that’s making me look like a motherfuckin’ rock star, don’t you?”

Jesus H. Christ, he hated Anthony. Just like Nathan Fucking Duncan, he didn’t know when the hell to shut his Goddamn wordhole.

Barely able to contain his rage and the urge to rip Anthony’s tongue from his mouth and strangle him with it, Victor flexed his fingers in an attempt to release the tension building in him. “Are you done?” he grumbled under his breath.

“I’m just gettin’ started, Agent Cocksucker.”

His temper flared and he stood as he glared down at Anthony. “You’ve got a lot of nerve name calling considering you’re the one in prison, taking it up the ass and being forced to be someone else’s bitch.”

He had hoped to strike a hard blow to the sociopath’s ego, but all that happened was a sinister smile curved Anthony’s lips upward.

“It’s good to see you too, Son,” the old man chuckled, making Victor cringe at the reminder of their connection. “And for the record, I don’t take it up the ass, I only give it. Just like you.”

Momentarily defeated, Victor sank back into his chair and attempted to pull himself together. Tapping the folder casually, he stared at Anthony.

“Chapter Nine.” Victor only spoke two words, but the hungry look on Anthony’s face revealed his excitement.

“You been working long hours on that one?” his tongue poked out to slick across his top lip.

“Long, hard, hours,” he lied.

Anthony’s pupils flared. “What do you want to know?”

Feeling empowered, Victor straightened up and rested his elbows on the table. “Have you had contact with the killer?”

Anthony smiled a little too widely and his response came a little too quickly. “Of course not. I already told the other agents that. Didn’t you do your homework?”

Bullshit.

The tendons in the back of Victor’s neck tensed at the green-eyed gaze that was staring back at him. He could read Ant like a motherfucking book. It was like looking in a mirror, after all. Yes, he had done his homework, but he knew this piece of shit was a notorious liar and he wanted to hear the words himself.

Victor lowered his voice to a deadly level and calmly stated his intent. “You may have the others fooled, but I’m not some asshole you just met. I know you like I know myself. It may take me awhile to make the connection between the two of you, but I will make the connection. And when I do…”

Anthony’s body stiffened and a murderous look came over him. “You’ll what?” he eyes darkened as his irises dilated fully. “There’s nothing else you can do to me that ain’t already been done. I’m in here for the rest of my fuckin’ life, asshole. I’ll never taste pussy again or sink my cock into cunt. So what are you gonna do to me? Take away my cornbread privileges?” he sarcastically laughed. “Remove me from general population? Oh, yeah. That’s already been done, too. So what exactly do you plan on doing to me?” he rose in his seat, making Victor do the same out of defense.

Smoothly, he reached across the table and slid the folder out of Ant’s reach and put it back in his briefcase. Ant’s jaw muscle quivered.

“Unless you tell me who the killer is, you’ll never read another word of my journals. I know you want to. And let me tell you, Chapter Nine was so fuckably good. Tasty. Tight. And she begged…” Victor’s lusty tone made Ant’s jaw tense and the erection in his prison uniform became visible. “But you’ll never know about her until you give me what I fucking want.”

In the blink of an eye, Ant’s arousal turned to hatred as he seated himself again. “What about Chapter Eight? Where are the notes on that one?” he gripped his stiff dick to readjust himself.

Victor’s composure wavered.

“Fuck Chapter Nine. You want information? Then I want the notes on that little defiant bitch you mentioned before. The one whose spirit you said you liked.”

Victor swallowed loudly as he recalled the meeting where he briefly mentioned Elsa.

“Why is it you’re keeping her all to yourself? Is she tasty, too? Fuckably good and tight?” he mocked. “Did you keep that one as a pet? Is that why you’re so secretive about her?”

Victor gritted his teeth and Mr. Black took over. “Is that how you want to play this? Demand things that you have no right to demand? Okay. But you’ll never know about Chapter Eight. Or Nine for that matter. And you want to know what I’ll do? I’ll make sure you spend the majority of your days in solitary confinement for aiding and abetting a murderer. The privileges taken away will be computer privileges, mail privileges, any kind of social interaction with reporters or interviewers. That’ll really hurt, won’t it, you piece of shit?”

Ant stood and shoved his chair backward, tipping it over and making the guard in the room lunge toward him.

“We’ll see just how far your accomplice will get without your input,” Victor reached for his jacket casually and moved toward the door as a long line of obscenities and threats spilled from Ant’s mouth.

As the door closed behind him, Victor sighed with relief as the dull ache in his chest slowly began to subside. He was done with Anthony Bruce. It was over. And long overdue. Nothing good had ever come from learning of their connection and having contact with him.

It was time to face his past with the Chapter who was demanding to know his secrets. He only hoped he could remain in control when he faced them.

***

The pen touched the paper as Elsa pondered what questions to ask. She only had a few hours left to complete the list that could neither be added to nor changed. It seemed a monumental task and one she hadn’t really prepared herself for.

The quietness in her home was unsettling, making it difficult to think straight. With no one to answer to, she felt oddly out of sorts. Normally Nate would have called to check up on her, but things had changed. He hadn’t called in days. Perhaps he knew the reason for her betrayal. It was a dismal thought, but she couldn’t think about that. To face her own traitorous actions was too difficult a thing to do.

She knew when she started the list earlier that morning what the first question would be: the very one that got her into hot water. The scar. It had been haunting her for more than a year and a half and now she would finally know how it came to be.

Sleep had been minimal the night before and work, unproductive. She had not only been exhausted, but too preoccupied with the list to get anything done. And more concerning, what the repercussions would be of making him give her information.

As she penned the last of her questions, her phone chirped.