From [email protected]com
Subject: Re: Bonjour
I tapped my fingers against the keys, excuses forming, my black and white rules of humans versus animals, food versus souls, and the age-old bullshit of humans thinking they were special over every other living species on our planet.
I wanted to drive my fist into his jaw and demand he acknowledge that it wasn’t just people who felt love and loss and pain. Cows did. Sheep did. A chicken wasn’t just dinner but a creature who had its own language, hierarchy, and lifespan.
The urge to pummel this motherfucker who dare threaten me via email and speak as if he was some liberator of women made me want to ask if he ate meat and shove the hypocrisy down his fucking throat.
But…
He was right.
Buying another for my own gain was wrong.
I knew that.
I’d stopped that.
I’d learned my lesson, and now all I wanted was peace. To keep Eleanor safe. To live out our lives alone and together, away from the jurisdictions and inhumane beliefs of a polluted world.
No one, especially this Q bastard, would take that away from me.
To Q,
I have so much to say so I will keep this brief.
I don’t trust encryption and normally write in code, but for this, I will type blatantly so you get the message loud and clear.
You are right that I bought those women.
You are right that it was wrong to do so.
And you are right that I should pay.
Unfortunately, you are too late.
The last girl I purchased ended my tyranny.
She awakened me and broke me in equal measure.
I fell in love, and everything fell apart.
Because of her, I willingly died. Not hypothetically or romantically. I literally died.
But she loved me enough to bring me back.
And the man I am now is not the man who purchased those women.
They have been freed. Every last one of them. Freed and compensated. I can provide evidence of their safety if it will appease you.
Ordinarily, I would take your threat and retaliate with my own. I am not a man that allows such things to go unpunished. However, in this instance, I understand where you are coming from, and I am on your side.
You have my word that I am reformed. That no other life will be taken by me. All I ask is that you accept my assurances and call off your manhunt.
I’ve paid my debt.
I am just a man doing his best to be worthy of a woman who saved him.
Thirteen girls were bought, eleven were released, and one has chosen to stay. The last girl I’m keeping, but only because she’s kept me. She will be my wife, and I will lay down my life four million times over to protect her.
So, in light of that, allow me a tiny threat of my own.
Come to my shores, and you will not survive.
Threaten me again, and I will track you down and ensure you cannot hurt my wife or loved ones again.
Are we clear?
You have no reason to hunt me.
And I have no desire to hurt you.
Let this be over before it even begins.
Sincerely,
Sinclair.
Pika swooped into the villa as I pressed send, his little caw a precursor before he dive-bombed my laptop and attacked the letter S. His tiny beak managed to hook beneath the plastic, almost ripping it off before I could stop him.
“Oi. Quit it.”
He just chirped and marched toward another alphabet. Almost as if he knew the bastard I’d been writing to, he eyeballed the letter Q and tore it from the keyboard.
“Hey!”
I tried to grab him as he tossed it to the floor then swooped into my hair and dangled down my forehead, his black eyes in front of mine.
“You’re a jerk.”
He bit my nose.
“You can help me kill that asshole if he dares come here.”
“Kill.” He squawked.
“Huh, new word.” I plucked him from my strands and plopped him onto the desk. If he was here, that meant Skittles and Eleanor weren’t far behind. He had a habit of flying ahead, giving me warning, making my heart glow to see her again and building impatience to be back in her company.
Unlike the other times when I waited for Eleanor to return to me, this time, I wanted her to stay away a little longer. Adrenaline still flowed brutal and blistering in my veins. I felt violent and vicious, and I didn’t want to make her worry because I doubted I’d be able to hide the reaction this Q bastard had caused.
Raking hands through my hair, I opened a new email, doing my best to change my thoughts to happier topics. I called up an address that I hadn’t had reason to message in a while. His diamonds came in regular shipments, ordered by my staff to his. It’d been a long time since he’d requested drugs to stem his condition or the one-off email from his father commanding something that would turn his empathic son into an apathic monster.