Swamp Murder

Swamp Murder. 71

Zhan's pov.

The words sliced through the air like a blade.

My chest clenched, but before I could speak, Dre said flatly, "I know."

But it sounded forced, the kind of "I know" you spit out to protect the one sitting across from you.

Ziyi's grin widened. "Lies. You're covering up for him. You always were weak when it came to loyalty. Poor Dre." She laughed again, a little too loud, a little too gleeful.

But then Dre set down his fork. His hands were trembling, not from fear, but from fury. His voice, when it came, was ice.

"I've been friends with Black for years," he hissed, glaring at her. "And he never once got high on his fix. Never. So when I heard about the overdose, I knew it wasn't him. I knew it was Wang."

Ziyi's smirk spread wider, like a wolf catching scent of blood.

But Dre leaned forward, eyes burning with a rage I'd never seen in him before.

"And you know what, Ziyi?" His voice cracked like a whip. "Good. Good that he did it. Because if Wang hadn't, I would've. I would've put a knife through both of their throats myself."

His words landed heavy, final. He shoved his plate away and sat back, shaking with fury.

"Now I just feel sorry for you."

Ziyi's smile slithered back, slow and cruel, like she'd been waiting for this exact crack in the armor.

"Oh, Dre," she cooed, her voice dripping poison. "Always so angry. Always pretending you're tougher than you are. But deep down, you're just the boy who begged not to be left alone. That's why you clung to your exe. That's why you slept with Zhan."

Her words hit like a whip. The room went silent.

Dre stiffened, his jaw tight, eyes flicking toward me, but I didn't move. My chest burned, my throat locked, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

She leaned back, sipping her wine like this was nothing more than morning gossip.

"And you, Zhan," she continued, her gaze sliding to me now. "You're no better. You think you're strong because you survived what I gave you? Please." Her laugh was sharp, cruel. "You were a toy. Nothing more. Passed around until you broke. I made you. Without me, you'd still be some nobody in the gutter. Face it, you've always belonged to me."

My grip on the table tightened until my knuckles went white.

"And Wang?" She tilted her head toward him, her smile widening like a knife. "Wang doesn't see either of you. He pities you. That's all. He takes you in like strays—broken toys to keep him company until he gets bored. He'll go home to his wife and daughter, and you two will still be here, fighting over scraps of his affection."

Dre shot up from his chair, trembling with rage, tears already welling in his eyes. "Shut up, Ziyi."

"Why?" she mocked, eyes glinting. "Did I touch a nerve? Or is it because you know I'm right?"

The words rolled out calm, almost too calm, and I could feel the shock ripple through the room. Even Wang's head snapped toward me, his jaw tight. Dre froze with his fists clenched at his sides.

I let the silence stretch a beat before leaning forward, my eyes locked on Ziyi's. "You're right about everything. I was a toy. I was broken. But you know what else?" My voice dropped, cold and steady. "Now I get to show you the same mercy you showed me."

For the first time, her laughter faltered. Then, just as quickly, she threw her head back and laughed harder, shrill and sharp.

"Oh, please," she sneered, shaking her head. "You don't have the heart, Zhan. You never did. That's why you broke so easily. You think this little act scares me?"