I left one special token with John's lifeless body, a single rose left lying on his chest. Chances were that Royce would see the body either to identify it or pay some kind of respects (though of course respects from Royce were totally useless), and I wanted him to know what was happening. I had completed my preliminary chores, and sure, they had been satisfying, but now it was time to really get down to business. The rose was just the beginning a complex plan; Royce was going to simmer in a stew of anxiety and agony before I was finished with him.

For a while I did absolutely nothing, well, nothing concrete anyway. I bided my time, walking around Carlisle's house humming to myself, avoiding Edward whenever possible, helping Esme with the tasks she fabricated to keep herself busy and happy. And I thought about how glad I would be when Royce got what was coming to him. And just how he would get what was coming to him. Sometimes I followed him at a distance just to make sure he was still looking jumpy and sleep-deprived, but that was highly taxing for my self-control. In a way I craved the excitement, the jolt to my system, I was preparing myself for bigger and better things.

Every week or so I would leave him another single rose, just because it irked me to see him get complacent. Each flower was carefully placed in a different spot, maybe on his windowsill, in his office, or in his car; the possibilities were endless really. The point was that he not feel safe anywhere, that he be perpetually looking over his shoulder. Soon he was constantly twitching like a nervous rodent, his eyes darting into corners and behind doorways. His skin had turned an ashen shade that did nothing for his fair coloring. I was elated.

After seeing those effects I was ready to move on to the slightly more dangerous phase two of the plan. I had to be extremely careful, but it was worth it to see his reactions. Now instead of just leaving a rose to mark my "visits", I dressed all in black with a hat pulled down low over my scarlet irises and began ghosting around behind him, purposefully allowing myself to be seen ever so briefly every once in a while. Even in my disguise, and I would definitely qualify it as a disguise since had anyone hired by the Kings to search for me recognized me then the game would have been up, the sight of a blonde woman who resembled me seemed to cause Royce plenty of distress. Soon he was walking around with an armed bodyguard. I decided that it was time for me to finish up, even though I was loath to end my twisted joy.

Looking back I see that I was indulging my theatrical side, but after some careful window-shopping I swiped a pristine bridal gown out of the display of a well-off bridal shop. I figured that was less cruel than stealing it from some unassuming bride waiting to be shackled. I made a promise to myself that when I finished with Royce the dress would still be the same spotless, lurid white.

I found him in his office, despite the late hour. I also found two armed guards outside a door as thick as a very old oak tree. All three obstacles were easily dispatched. I took particular pleasure in ripping the slab of wood off its hinges, penetrating Royce's last defense.

The gown swirled around me as I swept through the cleared entryway, careful that every movement could be tracked by Royce's weak human eyes. I had a fleeting wish that there could be either a wedding march or a dirge playing in the background, but pushed that thought out of my head as impossible and continued my advance.

A cry of vicious delight surged up from my silent heart when I saw Royce huddled like a child behind his desk, a look of biblical terror upon his face. At first he did nothing at all, simply sat, curled in upon himself, literally rooted to the spot. Then he came to his senses and started desperately fumbling in his desk drawer. I considered dodging the bullet from the large revolver he extracted, maybe even letting it graze off my marble skin to demonstrate my invulnerability, but concluded that the easiest thing was also the best. In the space of a second I was in front of the desk with the crushed pistol in my fingers. I think it was at that point that Royce knew it was over, that his day of judgment had come. He barely even struggled, or perhaps he did and it was just too weak for me to take notice.

I took my time with Royce, relishing every moment like a dog sucking the last traces of marrow from a bone. Every snap, every crack, was a victory. Even the terrible, throbbing thirst for Royce's blood became inconsequential as my appetite for vengeance was sated at last.

I was careful, not a drop of his blood was spilled. It didn't need to be.

The best part was hearing him beg, and then hearing him stop.

A/N: Ok, so that was kind of an angst-ridden chapter. It was unavoidable I assure you. It was also kind of short, but hopefully emotionally charged enough to satisfy you guys. Review and let me know? Anywho, I would like to dedicate this both to all of you oh so lovely reviewers, and to a friend of mine who told me that I was like Rose and in a way inspired me to write this fic. To that person: I still say you're wrong and I'm terribly offended, but thanks anyways. Please review, it shows me you enjoyed the chapter. Much love- DD.