No Regrets, by Emily Wheeler

“I’m leaving,” she’d said. “I’ve met someone else.” Twenty years together, gone, just like that. It was untenable.

“Who?”

“You don’t know him.” Hiding her lover’s identity, fearing for his safety.

“I won’t allow it.”

She’d just stared. “Allow? That’s the problem. You’re a control freak.

She’d gone, but he’d found them. The proof was in the bodies on the floor, bloodied and mutilated.

She’d been right: he did like having control. He also hated leaving things unfinished. Smiling grimly, he lifted his hands and kicked the man.

You first.

And he smiled again as the chainsaw whirred into life

About these ads