Betrayal comes with a price.

So does lying and stealing and cheating.

There are consequences for the choices we make. Someone has to answer for them.

Like pieces on a chess board, one wrong move and you get taken out. Make too many wrong moves and it’s game over.

That’s why you should always know your opponent. Play with the wrong person, and you’re guaranteed to lose. Take something that doesn’t belong to you, and you might just regret it.

Thinking you’re in control when you’re not can be another fatal flaw.

If you’re not careful, someone will slip right past and take your queen.

Or maybe you’ll find out it’s not a game at all, and then they’ll just come straight for you.

Either way, someone is going to lose.

Tonight, that someone was completely unaware of what awaited her.

The anger that had been simmering in my gut boiled over into a white-hot rage that spread through my veins and licked at my bones as I watched her step from the shiny, new, silver Lexus. She thought she had it all. The picture-perfect life. She also thought she had everyone fooled. I knew better, though. Why else would she be at this hotel tonight?

Everything she thought was hers was about to be ripped away. The privileged bitch didn’t know how powerless she really was. I’d been powerless before. Been at the mercy of others. Nothing but a pawn on the board, moved as someone else saw fit. Had my dignity stripped away. My choices taken from me. But I got my life back. And when I did, I promised no one would ever take anything else away from me again. I would have what was mine and let no one get in my way.

There was a lesson to be learned here tonight and I was going to be the teacher.

Parked in the shadows across the street, I waited until she’d slipped inside the hotel before stepping out onto the dark, deserted street. The sweltering heat clung to the night even though the sun had set hours ago. Sweat beaded on my skin as my eyes darted every which direction while my feet carried me over the pavement to the corner of the parking lot where her precious Lexus sat.

Another quick scan of my surroundings ensured that I was alone and unobserved as I clicked the flashlight on and slipped the key from my pocket that let me inside. Then I went to work. How easy it was to do a little tampering under the hood. Just enough to ensure she didn’t make it back home tonight. She wouldn’t notice anything was until it was too late.

For extra insurance, I ducked back inside the driver’s side long enough to crush up the tablet I carried and sprinkle it in the bottle of vitamin water that sat in the cupholder. With any luck, she’d drink when she returned to the car, and it would appear as nothing more than a senseless, tragic accident.

As quickly and easily as the task was done, I slipped back through the night, undetected. And then I waited. Patiently. Letting the anticipation and excitement build. More than an hour went by before she emerged again and briskly made her way to the vehicle that would carry her to her unfortunate, but deserved, fate.

Right now, she was still thinking she’d gotten away with it. Smug bitch. Even under the black sky and barely-there illumination cast by the few street lights that weren’t busted out, I swore I could see the satisfied expression she wore as she hurried in her heels to what she thought was the safety of her car.

When she climbed behind the wheel, there was a brief moment where the soft glow of the overhead light illuminated the car. It was my turn to smirk when she reached for that bottle and brought it to her lips just before the light faded and the interior of the car was dark once more.

She pulled onto the street. I waited until her taillights turned the corner before following. I had to make sure, but more than that, I wanted to be there for it. I wanted to watch.

She made it all the way to the Parkway, so close to home, before anything went wrong. We passed only one other car on the long stretch of road. There were few houses and businesses along this route. It was mostly industrial. I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her eyes must be feeling heavy.

“Come on, any time now,” I muttered.

And that’s when it happened.

From nearly a quarter mile back, I watched as the car going over sixty careened off the road. At that speed, when it hit the guardrail the car flipped and rolled. The shattering of glass and the crunch of metal was like a sweet melody to my ears. I slowed my own vehicle and brought it to a stop. The Lexus only stopped after plowing into a trailer that sat on a deserted construction site.

The timing couldn’t have been more to my advantage. In this spot, with no houses or businesses in the immediate vicinity, it would be a while before someone came to investigate or happened upon the crash site.

I climbed from my car, adrenaline pumping, and slipped through the shadows. I made my way to the overturned and mangled SUV that was beginning to catch fire. She was unconscious and bloodied when I knelt to look inside the wreckage. Unable to help myself, despite only having seconds, maybe less, before the entire vehicle was engulfed, I reached my hand in the small gap where the driver’s window used to be. I felt her slow and uneven breaths on my palm. An all too familiar sensation bubbled up in my chest. There was a pounding in my ears. I couldn’t walk away and leave it to the flames, even though I knew that her death was more imminent with every second that passed without the arrival of help. I knew I needed to back away, but I couldn’t make myself. Not until the life was snuffed from her. I wanted to do it myself. I wanted to be the one that stole the very life from her.

It was nothing to cover my hand with my sleeve and close it over her mouth and nose, cutting off her oxygen. She remained unconscious and the only sign of her death was a few minor twitches of her body as it attempted to fight for air. That was it, and then she was still, her chest no longer rising, her lips no longer sucking in tiny breaths. She was just dead.

One second she was alive, her body clinging to that precious life, and the next, by my hand, she wasn’t. All that remained was this grim sense of finality and the heavy fumes of burning materials and gasoline in the air.

It was done.

I thought I’d feel more. After all, she got what she deserved. I thought I’d want to dance or spit on her corpse, but I simply rose up to my feet and retreated from the accident that was no accident. I’d made it ten feet before I heard the whoosh of flames and felt the heat on my back.

It was only when I was another mile down the road that the smile crept to my lips.