Sonny handed the vial to Ciara with a warning. "You do realize that if you get caught, you're on your own? This is your plan. All of the risk is yours."
For years, Sonny had second-guessed himself. His entire first run with Paul had basically forced him back into the closet, Will ran hot and cold long before he died and came back with amnesia, and Club TBD had always struggled because he let Chad take the reins early on and as a result it never found a direction.
That era was done. Now Sonny was taking control of his life. Ciara may have believed that she was the one running everything, that it was all her plan, but she was young and inexperienced. She would be the perfect fall girl if it came to that. After all, he had already lived through enough adversity to know how things always ended. He knew that Ciara would prove to be just another loose end that he would have to wrap up.
"If you did your part, that won't be a possibility," she assured him. She carefully slid the vial into an inner pocket of her jacket. "What about the drug?"
"That was much easier to procure. You're lucky, you know that?" Sonny commented as he handed his cousin a second vial. "The drug had a decent shelf life, but if you're doing this it has to be tonight. You won't get a second chance at a frame job this perfect."
"Listen here, Jackson," Ciara drew out his full name much to Sonny's annoyance, "I know what I'm doing. I grew up surrounded by cops and super spies. I know the ins and outs of the system, and I know how to manipulate them.
"You just worry about what you have to do, and leave me to me. This is going to go down exactly as I want. Every contingency has been planned for."
The doorbell rang. Ciara looked in the direction of the front door, then back to Sonny. There was a smug, self-assured look on her face that told him she knew exactly who his guest was. She was already making moves without consulting him and it just reinforced his belief that she was going to be an inevitable liability.
"And there is the would-be wild card now. Do take care of him, Jackson. It just wouldn't do for him to be out there in the wild, where he could potentially get in my way and ruin everything we've worked for."
Ciara pushed Sonny in the direction of the door before excusing herself to leave through another exit. He counted to ten as he walked to the door in an attempt to calm down. After opening the door, he was glad he had because Will was standing on his doorstep.
"Hi," Sonny said to his husband, trying not to let his surprise show. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"Water is fine," Will answered nervously. He hesitated a few seconds before stepping into the mansion. Sonny silently walked him to the study, then left to fetch a bottle of water. He debated internally as to what he should do. Somehow, Ciara had arranged it so that Will would come to his house. It was a feat that Sonny himself had struggled with ever since Will returned to Salem.
But what had Ciara done? That was what had him scared. He was fine with her plot to take out Paul and Tripp: they had coming whatever it was she was dishing out. Sonny's concern was with what came after. If he couldn't control Ciara, and the current stunt with Will made it pretty damn clear that was the case, then he would likely have to neutralize her.
"Thanks." Will took the water and Sonny was pulled back into the present. Why was he wasting time worrying about some idiotic little girl when the love of his life was standing right in front of him?
"Any time." Sonny smiled and waited for some sort of context clue that would explain Will's visit. "Can I get you anything else? Anything at all?"
"No. I think we should just jump right into it." Will sighed and cracked open his water. "Though, I do have to say, your text was a bit of a surprise."
Sonny felt his pocket and realized his phone was gone. He scanned the room and saw it sitting on a table near where Ciara had been standing. How had she guessed his password? What did she say to Will to get him to come over?
"So, what exactly brought about the change?" Will took a drink of water, his eyes locked on Sonny.
"I'm sorry?"
Sighing again, Will sat down and looked up at the still standing Sonny. "Just the other night, you were still practically stalking me. Then tonight you message me saying that you want to discuss a divorce? How did you get from point A to point B?"
And in that moment, Sonny snapped. As soon as her usefulness was up, as soon as she no longer had a part to play in Sonny's reunion with Will, he was going to see to it that Ciara Brady was dead.
Days
Even though he knew he had plenty of time, Paul kept glancing at the clock on his dashboard. He had just dropped his father off at the airport and was racing home as fast as the law would allow. All Paul wanted was to get a shower and a change of clothes before his date. It was more than excitement: it was elation.
Paul was more flattered by the attention than he would ever admit. He was the one approached by Tripp, after all. The previously-believed-to-be-straight man was the one who came onto him at the bar, and that same man was who said he wanted to pursue something more serious. This wasn't a situation where Paul was trying to replace Sonny. It was just a matter of mutual attraction and interest.
It was nice.
By the time he arrived home to his apartment complex, Paul had already settled on and changed his mind three times about the outfit he was going to wear. He was so far into negotiating a fourth option in his head that he didn't even notice his hallway wasn't empty.
However, as soon as he had opened the door to his apartment, Paul felt a hand on his shoulder. Before he could react, a second hand held a wet cloth over his nose and mouth. There was barely enough time to register a chemical smell before blackness overtook him.
Days
Claire Brady felt guilty. She sat on the sofa in the living room of her loft, half-heartedly texting her boyfriend who was an ocean away recovering from a gunshot wound. But her attention was decidedly not on him.
Instead of focusing on the man she loved, Claire watched her friend and roommate Tripp as he ran back and forth from the bathroom to bedroom and back again. He was preparing for his date with the mystery woman and Claire hated it.
She knew she was being a hypocrite for not wanting Tripp to be happy while she had someone herself, but she couldn't control how she felt. She had grown accustomed to Tripp being in love with her. Part of her enjoyed the longing looks he would cast her way when he thought she wasn't paying attention. It was nice having someone be in love with her who wouldn't cross the line from friend to interloper. She had a very nice Tripp-shaped cake, but got to eat a Theo-shaped one, too. Plus, Tripp respected that Claire wouldn't give him what he wanted.
But she couldn't bring herself to be happy for him. It wasn't jealousy. She didn't envy whoever the woman was that caught his eye. It was just a general sadness. Claire what mourning was never was and now likely never would be.
"Does this look okay?" The excitement Tripp had been exhibiting ever since his return from his breakfast date was suddenly not present in his voice. Claire looked up at him and he seemed so small, almost as if he were trying to hide from her. It hurt.
"You look great." Claire paid no attention to what he was wearing. The pain she felt when looking at him grew unbearable, so she forced a smile onto her face and picked a spot on the wall just behind him on which to focus her attention. "She's really lucky. I hope you know that."
"Thank." Tripp offered a small smile that made Claire's own falter. He noticed and immediately looked to the floor. She kept looking past him.
"I hope I get to meet her soon. Make sure she's good enough for you," Claire joked, except it wasn't a joke. "Is she picking you up?"
Tripp looked back up at Claire, just for a second. "He had to run his dad to the airport. I'M taking a cab to his place, then he's driving us from there."
He? Claire's eyes snapped away from the wall and to Tripp's face. It held no fear, there was no need for it, but it was evident that he was nervous. That was understandable.
"Okay. Well, then I want to meet him."
It wasn't clear if Tripp was looking for reassurance or just someone to possibly hash things out with. However, to Claire, it was obvious that couldn't do either for him.
Days
The worst part was the wait. Paul was going to be out for awhile, so Ciara wasn't worried about him in the slightest. It was just a matter of when Tripp would arrive. The text she'd sent him from Paul's phone, he still used the same password Sonny remembered, it said that the door was unlocked and to just come right on in.
So far, everything had worked. If Sonny did his job like he was supposed to, cameras wouldn't be an issue. Even so, Ciara wasn't stupid. Her hair was braided and tucked into her shirt and a ski mask covered her face. She may have worked with Sonny, but that didn't mean she trusted him.
But he had proved useful. Hell, he even added an element to Ciara's plan that would've been impossible without him. He must have hated Paul more than she hated Tripp, because he went above and beyond in his effort to secure his ex's downfall.
Ciara used a gloved hand to cradle the vial in her interior pocket. There would only be one chance to use it. Sonny had told her what it was, but not how he had acquired it. That scared her a little. Even though Paul and Sonny were exes, and they all lived in Salem, she had never heard of anybody keeping what Sonny had given her. She wondered just what he did to get it.
She really needed for Tripp to hurry up and arrive. Ciara had to pee, and the sound of the running shower only made it worse. Good thing it wasn't her water bill. But it sucked because she was smart enough to know not to use the toilet in Paul's apartment. She really, really had to go.
Just when Ciara's bladder felt like it was going to burst, Paul's door opened. Ciara held her breath and pressed against against the wall so that she wouldn't be seen.
"Paul?" It was Tripp's voice. Ciara almost breathed a sigh of relief, but held it in so that he wouldn't know anyone else was there. "Sounds like he's in the shower."
The fact that Tripp was the kind of guy who talked to himself just made it more necessary that Ciara bring him down. It was one of her pet peeves: for her entire childhood, she had observed the other citizens of Salem destroy their own schemes by talking to themselves and being overheard. It almost always led to either blackmail or being outed. That was never going to be Ciara's downfall.
Tripp closed the door and Ciara attacked. Much like she'd done with Paul, Ciara used chloroform to knock Tripp out. It was amusing to her how she didn't need Sonny to get it: it was ridiculously easy to come across. As soon as he was out, she let him fall to the floor. She'd caught Paul before he could, but Ciara wanted the neighbours to hear Tripp's loud thud.
She locked the door, then dragged Tripp over to Paul's bed. It was an annoying inconvenience because Tripp was as heavy as he was stupid. She managed to flop his upper half onto the edge of the bed, then grabbed him by the belt and pulled him up the rest of the way.
The man was peacefully unconscious, chest rising and falling like he was in a sound sleep. Ciara hatefully growled at him. She reached into a pocket and produced one of the vials Sonny had given her. Ciara forced Tripp's mouth open, then poured most of the liquid into it. There was just enough left to add to a bottle of beer sitting on the night stand. After doing so, Ciara held the bottle to Tripp's lips, then put it in his hand and watched as it fell over and began spilling on the bed.
Every detail had to be perfect. Paul was already naked, lying on the bathroom floor. Later, Ciara would drag him into the room and put him next to the bed, but Tripp still required the bulk of her focus.
Piece by piece, she peeled off Tripp's clothing until he was down to his boxer-briefs. Her gloves made it difficult, but rather than pull them off she ripped his underwear to shreds and threw the tattered remains to the floor. Paul's fingerprints would be on them soon enough.
What came next would be the hardest thing for Ciara to do. She had lucked out that Paul kept sex toys in his nightstand, and she made use of them. It was essential that Tripp's body have the trauma. And she made sure not to lube him up and not to stop until he started bleeding. The action made her sick, but she was too far into everything to stop. Besides, the blood was going to end up on Paul's dick, not her hands.
After she was done, Ciara spent a few moments just breathing and watching Tripp do the same. It was almost as though he were a real person. She shook her head and shook out the thoughts of guilt creeping into her brain. There was neither time nor a need for self-reflection. What was done could not be undone.
The only thing Ciara could do was finish the job. Tripp lay before her: bruised, bloodied, and blissfully drugged. She pulled out the other vial Sonny had given her. It was going to seal the deal. It was the one thing that would erase any chance Paul had of being found innocent of the crimes Ciara had committed.
Days
Two dark-haired women met in an empty warehouse. One hand a flash-drive to her compatriot and received a small stack of bills in return.
"So, he still thinks you work for him?" The woman who now held the flash-drive had a very noticeable accent. "He must, considering he gave you access to the Titan Industry servers. And now I have everything that they have."
"He's so worried about his exes that he never bothers to actually work," the second woman said, an equally noticeable lack of an accent to her voice. "As long as I stalk his husband, he doesn't care what I do with my time."
"Soon enough, he'll know. Silly faggot. They're all the same. As long as you can distract them with a penis, a homosexual will always leave his business unguarded." The accented woman smiled. "My last excursion to the East Coast may not have gone according to plan, but this time I know what I'm doing. This time, the bombs dropped are going to be metaphorical."
Days
When Tripp woke up, the first thing he noticed was that Paul's face was close to his and it was wracked with fear. Then he noticed the pain. A large wave of nausea rolled over him, and Tripp proceeded to roll onto this side and vomit.
"Oh my god. Are you okay?" Paul's voice was in Tripp's ear, but he kept vomiting until there was nothing left in his stomach. He continued to dry heave for a few moments more.
After his body began to calm down, Tripp surveyed where he was. It was Paul's apartment. He remembered from when they had slept together. But he didn't remember being there. Pulling at his brain, the closest Tripp could get was climbing into the taxi for the ride over.
"What time is it?" he asked, rolling over and immediately regretting it. He was sore. Tripp reached behind himself and came back with a hand spattered with blood. His eyes got big and he looked at Paul. "What the fuck happened?"
"I don't know," Paul confessed. He reached out to touch Tripp, but Tripp pulled away despite the pain. "I don't remember you getting here. All I know is that I woke up and you were..."
Paul didn't finish his sentence. It was weird and terrifying. Tripp was in the bed of a man he barely knew with no idea how he had gotten there, his ass was bleeding, and he felt sick as a dog. And Paul's own terrified behaviour was not helping matters.
"You did..." Tripp didn't want to finish the thought. He looked over Paul's naked body and saw the dried brown stain on his penis. He began dry heaving again, this time out of nerves rather than nausea.
All Paul did was watch him. He wasn't offering to take Tripp to the ER, or get him into the shower, or anything else. It was like he was scared of Tripp when it was clearly supposed to be the other way around.
"What happened to me?" Tripp asked weakly when he could. He was so sore and so tired. Paul still wasn't speaking, just staring at Tripp in disbelief. "What the fuck did you do to me?"