Chapter 24: Revenge Served Hot
Sara sipped her wine, its velvet texture a stark contrast to the raw energy crackling in Nat’s cramped apartment. “You want to seduce David,” she repeated, her tone flat, testing the idea. “Why?” The single lamp cast Nat’s sharp features into dramatic relief, her pink hair a neon halo in the dimness.
Nat leaned back, a predatory grace in her sprawl. “Because he thinks he won,” she stated, picking at the label on her beer bottle. “He thinks he got a taste of something real and then got cheated. His ego is a pressure point.” She flicked a piece of paper onto the floor. “I find that point, and I lean on it. Hard.”
“And we just… watch?” Charly asked, his voice quieter than he intended. The memory of Nat on her knees in the bar was still a live wire under his skin, mingling uncomfortably with the new, sharper jealousy David had seeded.
“You watch,” Nat corrected, her eyes glinting. “But from the cheap seats again? No. You get front row.” She turned her phone screen toward them, revealing a dating app profile. It was David, smirking in a perfectly tailored shirt. “He’s already swiped right on my fake profile. We’re meeting Friday.” She grinned, a feral flash of white. “At his place.”
Sara set her glass down with a deliberate click. “And what’s the endgame, Nat? You screw him and we burst in with party hats?” Her laughter was brittle, unconvincing.
“The endgame,” Nat said, leaning forward so her words dropped between them like stones, “is to make him beg for something he can’t have. Me. And then you two arrive, not as intruders, but as my guests. As my people.” She let that sit, watching Sara’s face. “You get to see the look on his face when he realizes he’s the entertainment. Not the other way around.”
Charly felt a chill that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. “You’re going to record it.” It wasn’t a question.
“Audio only,” Nat conceded, her smile widening. “The sounds of a man unraveling are so much more intimate than pictures.” She reached over and took Sara’s hand, her thumb stroking the knuckles. “He used you to get at him,” she said, nodding toward Charly. “So we use his own ego against him. It’s just… rebalancing the scales.”
Sara looked from their joined hands to Charly’s uncertain face, then back to Nat. A slow, dark curiosity ignited behind her eyes, burning away the last of her doubt. “Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, let’s ruin him.”
Nat’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen, her smirk deepening. “Speak of the devil,” she purred, holding it up. A new message glowed in the dim light. Can’t wait for Friday. I have a nice bottle of wine waiting. She typed a quick response, her thumbs flying. I’m sure you do. She hit send, then looked at them both. “The trap’s set. You two just need to be ready to spring it.”
Later, walking home through the cooled night, Sara was quiet. “Do you think she can actually do it?” she asked finally, her hand finding Charly’s.
“I think,” Charly said, remembering the unshakable certainty in Nat’s eyes, “that she’s the most dangerous person I’ve ever met.” He squeezed her hand, a mix of dread and a terrifying, eager anticipation coiling in his gut. “And I think we’re going to let her prove it.”
The plan was simple. Brutally, elegantly simple. Friday night, Nat would go to David’s apartment. An hour in, she would send a pin drop of his location. Charly and Sara would arrive, listen at the door for a moment to the audio feed Nat would have streaming to an app on Charly’s phone, and then knock.
“And when he answers?” Charly had asked, the logistical part of his brain fighting for purchase.
Nat had just smiled. “He’ll be expecting room service.” The wicked glint in her eye had silenced any further questions.
Now, in their own bed, the darkness felt different. Sara curled into his side, her breath warm on his neck. “Are you scared?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he answered honestly. “But not of him.” He was scared of the part of himself that was already listening, in his imagination, to whatever sounds Nat would capture. He was scared of the part that wanted to hear David break. Mostly, he was scared of how much Sara seemed to want it, too.
Her silence was her agreement. She drifted off, leaving Charly staring at the ceiling, the ghost of Nat’s promise wrapping around him. His phone, charging on the nightstand, felt like a bomb waiting for its timer to reach zero.