Call Me | American Psycho Reader Insert

Chapter 28

Her eyes searched his, a storm of emotions swirling within the depths. Fear, anger, regret, they all melded together in a heartbreaking tapestry that mirrored his own chaotic soul. He had once been her prince, her protector, but now he was the monster from her darkest nightmares.

Evelyn took a step forward, her trembling hand keeping the gun trained on him. Each step was a silent declaration of her intention, a dance of fate that had been choreographed by his own madness. The air was thick with tension, the smell of gunpowder and blood a potent reminder of the line she was about to cross.

"You lied to me," Y/N spat, his voice ragged with pain. "You're a traitor, Evelyn. You were supposed to be mine."

Evelyn's eyes never left the pistol, her hand steady despite the tremor that coursed through her body. "You're the liar," she hissed, her voice a sibilant whisper that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand accusations. "You're a monster, and I won't be a part of your sick games anymore."

Y/N's face twisted into a snarl, the pain in his shoulder a distant echo to the betrayal he felt in his heart. "How could you do this to me?" he rasped, the words thick with disbelief. "We were supposed to be perfect together, Evelyn. We were supposed to conquer the world!"

Her eyes narrowed, the barrel of the gun not wavering. "I never lied to you," she spat back. "But you, you lied to everyone. You're a monster, Y/N, and I won't let you hurt anyone else."

He let out a laugh, a wet, gurgling sound that bubbled up from his chest, mixing with the blood that stained his teeth. "Me? A monster?" He coughed, a spray of crimson flecking the floor between them. "Look at what you've become, Evelyn. You're no better than me now. You've taken a life."

Her hand remained steady, the gun pointed directly at his chest. "You gave me no choice," she whispered, her voice shaking with rage and sorrow. "You've been playing god with people's lives, and now you expect me to just stand by and watch?"

"Do it, then," he growled, his own rage boiling over. "You're just as twisted as I am. Pull the trigger, you fucking bitch!"

Evelyn's hand trembled, the barrel of the gun shaking with the weight of the decision before her. But she didn't lower it. Instead, she took a deep breath and braced herself for the inevitable.

Y/N saw the uncertainty in her eyes, the humanity she clung to despite his best efforts to strip it away. And in that moment, he knew that she would not pull the trigger. He saw the fear, the doubt, the love she had once had for him, love that had been twisted and warped into this monstrous thing that now stood before her.

With a roar, he lunged for the gun, his body moving on instinct, fueled by the animalistic need to survive. The chainsaw lay forgotten, the blade still spinning in the crimson-soaked floorboards. Evelyn stumbled back, the pistol slipping from her grasp as he slammed into her, his teeth bared in a feral snarl.

They tumbled to the floor, a tangle of limbs and fury. The gun clattered away, spinning out of reach, the sirens outside a distant wail in the chaos of their battle. Y/N's hands were around her throat, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, the warmth of her pulse a siren's call to his inner beast. Her eyes bulged, the whites stark against the red of her irises, her nails clawing at his skin.

Evelyn fought with a ferocity that surprised them both, her legs kicking, her heels connecting with his shins. But he was stronger, fueled by rage and the promise of victory. His grip tightened, the sound of her choking gasps music to his ears. Her hands weakened, the fight draining from her body as surely as the life was draining from her eyes.

The room spun around them, the walls closing in, the air thick with the scent of fear and loathing. He felt a perverse joy in watching the light fade from her eyes, the humanity in her slipping away into the void he had created.

And then, with one final gasp, she went still, her eyes glazed over. The fight drained from her body, and she became nothing more than a rag doll in his arms. He stared down at her, the weight of his victory heavy in his chest, the pounding of his heart a drumbeat of triumph.

But the moment was shattered by the sound of steps behind him. He whipped around, his eyes wild, his body coiled like a snake ready to strike. But it was too late. A bolt of white-hot pain lanced through his body, the electricity of a taser seizing his muscles, locking them in a spasm of agony. He convulsed, the world around him going white as he was brought to his knees.

Before he could even register his victory, a wave of armored cops crashed over him, their boots digging into his back, their hands rough as they wrenched his arms behind him. He felt the cold, unyielding embrace of the handcuffs, the metal biting into his wrists like a vice.

Through the haze of pain and anger, he watched as Evelyn's eyes fluttered open, a smug smile playing across her lips. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer, she had played him. She had faked her death, waiting for the cops to storm in and get him. The rage inside him grew, a monstrous beast threatening to burst free.

The cops dragged him out of the apartment, his body rigid with fury, his mind racing with thoughts of escape. Yet, even in his rage, he couldn't help but admire her cunning. He had underestimated her, and now he was paying the price.

"You bitch!" he screamed, his voice hoarse from the choking and the rage that boiled within him. "You think this is over? This is just the beginning!" His eyes burned with a fury that seemed to ignite the very air around him, his spittle flying in a fine mist.

The officers pushed him into the back of the cruiser, their faces a mix of revulsion and fascination as they watched the once-respected Wall Street executive devolve into a crazed killer. The handcuffs dug into his wrists, the metal cold against his skin, but it was nothing compared to the icy grip of anger that held him in its thrall.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Y/N's eyes remained locked on Evelyn's apartment building, his voice a hoarse scream that seemed to shake the very windows. "You think you've won?" he ranted, his spittle flecking the Plexiglass that separated him from the officers. "This isn't over, you fucking whore!"

Evelyn watched him go, her smug expression never wavering, even as the sirens grew faint in the distance. She knew she had played him perfectly, had danced along the razor's edge of his madness until the moment was ripe for her to strike. She had taken a page from his own twisted playbook and had used it to bring him down.