I Watched Her Marry My Killer

The killer who took my life was finally arrested seven years after I died.

He’d clawed his way up from street-level thug to a crime boss, and he looked utterly unbothered during the televised trial as the judge read the verdict.

As the court officer finished reciting the list of victims, his voice, already rough, sliced through the courtroom silence.

“You missed one,” he drawled. “The very first one I ever killed, when I was just starting out. The one who died the worst.”

“Amend the charges,” he proposed, meeting the stunned silence with chilling confidence. “And I’ll tell you who’s missing.”

The room plunged into an eerie stillness, broken only by the judge’s stone-cold rejection.

“Your crimes are monstrous. You don’t get to negotiate.”

The crime boss merely shrugged, his eyes fixing on the female detective captain standing front and center.

“Badge Number 071923, Rhys Alcott. Detective Jenkins, do you know that name? Don’t you want to know where he’s buried?”

Avery Jenkins stood tall beneath the weight of every gaze in the room. Her voice was steady, each word a crisp assertion.

“The person you’re referring to did exist.”

“But Rhys Alcott is not dead. He’s not a detective now, either. He has been a fugitive, missing for seven years.”

1

To lend credibility to his outrageous claim, the crime boss confessed the entire process of the torture, live on the feed.

How his crew had first knocked him unconscious.

How they’d pulled out my fingernails and my teeth, trying to force me to reveal our police informants.

And how they’d methodically shattered every bone in my body.

“He screamed like hell, but he wouldn’t give up a damn thing. Not until a call came through.”

“He heard the voice, and then, he just stopped screaming.”

“We tried every trick in the book. Slow cuts with a razor, smashing his knees, pouring hot oil on his skin and then scrubbing it with a wire brush… He wouldn’t make a sound after that.”

“That’s when we knew. It was useless. We weren’t getting anything out of him.”

“Out of a perverse sense of mercy, I asked the big boss to finish it fast, and later, I handled the disposal myself.”

As his flat, detached narration unfolded, the online comments slowed to a stop.

A nation held its breath, choked by the horror.

Only Avery Jenkins stood ramrod straight, her eyes blazing with fury.

“Keep playing your role.”

“You people? Show pity for a cop? Get out.”

The crime boss asked for a cigarette.

“Killing him and pitying him are two different things, Detective.”

“At the time, I even hated myself for what I was doing. I genuinely respected the guy.”

“But what can I say? I wasn’t the one calling the shots.”

“I’ve killed so many people over the years—those who betrayed me, rivals in the game, people who owed me money… I’ve never regretted any of it. He’s the only one I feel bad about.”

The public’s instinctive reverence for law enforcement spurred spontaneous efforts to find any clue.

But Avery merely gave a cold, dismissive laugh.

She stood abruptly, her voice ringing out like a final gavel. “I don’t believe a single word you’ve said.”

The crime boss sighed, shaking his head.

“The time, the process, the people involved—I’ve told you everything I can. There’s no point in lying to you now.”

“Besides… I’m the only one who knows where he’s buried.”

“It’s up to you. Decide if putting him to rest is worth a reduced sentence.”

My superiors demanded a recess, ordering the prisoner be pulled back for renewed questioning. The public clamored for a full police investigation.

Avery, however, stood firmly opposed.

She stormed into the precinct chief’s office, slamming her hand on the desk.

The chief, equally furious, issued a stern command: she was to personally head the team excavating the site the dealer had confessed to.

The engine of the patrol car roared, a heavy, desperate sound.

The accelerator was mashed to the floor.

Watching the rage barely suppressed on her face, my spirit was consumed by a familiar, crushing sense of helplessness.

She probably still believed I had willingly disgraced myself all those years ago.

That I’d betrayed my ideals for dirty money, betrayed the legacy of my father’s badge.

And, most painfully, betrayed her.

And now, I was back to ruin the new life she’d just started with Damon.

When she shifted gears, her wrist exposed the worn-out cinnabar bracelet on the gearshift—the one I’d given her years ago.

But all her other dashboard decorations and trinkets had been replaced with miniature succulent charms.

Even the car air freshener was a cloyingly sweet Coconut Lime Verbena scent.

It was clear that Damon had thoroughly integrated himself into every corner of her new life.

What she didn’t know was that I, the ‘old man,’ had been abandoned in the damp, cold earth.

Suffering for seven years.

2

Seven years later, she seemed unchanged.

Her features were sharp and cool, her body tall and lean, her expression detached and striking.

Only, she spoke less, and her emotions were buried deeper.

The silent flash of red and blue lights cut through the mountain road, pulling up to a patch of desolate, brittle winter scrub.

In the dead of winter, the ground was frozen solid.

A shovel struck the dirt, leaving nothing but a white scrape on the frozen surface.

She took command of the scene.

“Start softening the soil with the heaters. The wind’s picking up—widen the downwind isolation zone by five meters.”

Damon emerged from the group of volunteers, offering her a thermos.

“Drink some hot water, your voice is getting hoarse.”

Avery took a sip, asking softly, “Why did you come here?”

“It’s crowded and chaotic. You should head home soon.”

Damon’s voice was laced with concern.

“I watched the trial.”

“Do you really think… it could be true?”

Avery let out a low, scornful scoff, but offered no reply.

Back then, both our fathers were detectives.

They worked together, went on missions together, and ultimately died in the line of duty together.

At their wake, we leaned against each other, our only support in the world.

From that moment on, we were inseparable.

We went to the police academy together, inheriting our fathers’ badge numbers.

We were partners in purpose, and lovers utterly consumed by each other.

Before we married, my mother, smiling through tears, hugged us both close.

“I’m gaining a daughter,” Avery had said.

She never broke that promise.

If I wanted to chase an old case, she’d stay up for days organizing the files.

When I was cornered by an armed suspect on patrol, she’d throw herself in front of me without a second thought.

I couldn’t handle spicy food, and she—who loved chilies—didn’t touch a single pepper for the entire duration of our marriage.

We both thought then that there was no bond stronger in the world than that of a partner and a soulmate.

Who could have predicted that our relationship would shatter over a lost soul we pulled out of a drug den?

I studied Damon’s handsome face.

It was hard to believe that in just a few years.

He’d transformed from a man reeking of addiction and fear into a polished, brooding man.

Perhaps a man’s cultivated fragility is the ultimate undoing for a woman’s heart.

After Damon was ‘rescued,’ he started calling Avery in the middle of the night.

Crying that he couldn’t find a good job, crying about the stigma of his past drug use.

Avery’s heart dissolved in those tears.

Her pity and her need to save him bloomed like an unstoppable weed.

She brought him into our home, giving him her entire paycheck—calling it ‘housekeeping fees.’

All the real expenses of our lives fell to me. We were barely getting by.

Several times, I tried to fire Damon, but she insisted.

“Rhys, Damon is so vulnerable. He’s been through so much. We have to help him.”

Yet, over Avery’s shoulder, I distinctly saw the cold defiance in his eyes, aimed squarely at me.

I lost it. I grabbed his hair and dragged him out the front door.

He held his stinging scalp, his eyes utterly silent.

And Avery, the woman who had sworn her life to mine, my partner, my soulmate.

She didn’t hesitate. She raised her hand and slapped me across the face.

She then cupped Damon’s face, her thumb gently wiping away the tears at his eyes.

“Don’t cry, I promised you. No one will hurt you again.”

She lowered her head, her voice harsh and cold when she spoke to me.

“When are you going to stop with this arrogant temper of yours?”

“Damon is a victim, too. How can you wear that badge and treat him like this?”

But in this relationship, the one that had been betrayed.

Weren’t she and Damon conspiring to emotionally ‘assault’ me?

A thousand desperate words clogged my throat in that single moment.

In the end, I simply packed my bags in silence and moved into the police academy dorms.

Apart from official work correspondence, I didn’t speak another word to her.

I actually knew that she and Damon had never been physically intimate.

I was just so angry.

She was giving the gentleness and indulgence that used to be exclusively mine to another man.

While leaving me to pay for the boring, expensive realities of our life together.

We kept this awful stalemate going for months.

Every day, I thought, maybe tomorrow, I’ll apologize, and we’ll go back to normal.

But the next day, the words would die on my lips, choked by my pride and my sense of being wronged.

Tragedy, as always, arrived faster than reconciliation.

I never got to see her turn back.

Instead, I stumbled upon a devastating truth.

Damon had secret, undeniable ties to the ruthless criminal syndicate we had been chasing for years.

3

A sudden, jarring sound of suction dragged me out of the memory.

The crowd erupted in a clamor.

“We found something!”

“Careful, lend a hand!”

Avery recoiled, blurting out, “No, impossible!”

“He wanted to make a statement, to see me look foolish and desperate. There can’t actually be bones…”

Her voice was low, a whisper of self-deception.

Damon’s voice was filled with false worry.

“Avery, do you think… Rhys might have killed someone?”

“He always had a quick temper. If pushed, he could do anything…”

Avery instantly clamped her mouth shut, her jaw tight.

She shoved her way into the crowd.

“I’ll take a look.”

My spirit hovered above the scattered, residual fragments of my bones. The cold wind pierced the fragments, and I gave a bitter, soundless chuckle.

This was the true definition of ‘cold to the bone.’

She brushed the dirt off a broken piece of bone.

Even through the thick gloves, I could feel the faint warmth of her fingertips.

My soul trembled. Suddenly, I desperately didn’t want her to see me like this.

If I could have any memory of myself left for her, I wished it would be of the strong, stubborn, vibrant man she had loved.

But now, I could only look up in silent worship at the woman who was once my life.

I greedily drank in that single, fleeting trace of warmth from her touch.

The medical examiner collected the remains, and the crowd slowly dispersed.

Avery stayed behind, alone.

Until the first weak rays of dawn touched the horizon, she suddenly pulled out her phone and began frantically dialing a number.

“Du—Du—”

“The number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and try again.”

The wind in the desolate field was harsh, turning her nose red.

A few muffled sobs were shredded by the cold.

“Rhys, this isn’t real…”

“It’s a prank, isn’t it?”

A pair of arms wrapped around her neck, the man’s breath hot against her ear.

Damon’s voice was shaky. “Avery.”

“Are you still… holding onto him?”

Avery’s body jerked violently.

A heart-stopping silence.

She let out a slow, tired breath.

“It’s over.”

“I only have you now.”

Damon’s arms tightened.

“Avery, I’m so afraid you’ll leave me—”

“I gave you everything. Please, don’t let me down.”

Seven years of being a ghost had tempered my temper.

I could now appreciate his performance with perfect calm.

This man was born with two faces.

Towards Avery, he was forever the damaged, silent victim; towards me, his eyes were full of venom and provocation.

Sometimes, I genuinely wondered what deep, ancient feud lay between us.

Why did he hate me so much?

It wasn’t until my last moments that I finally understood.

There was a feud.

His father had died years ago, shot by my father and Avery’s father during an armed standoff.

Stripped of protection, he quickly became a tool for the local syndicate—a ‘sacrifice.’

“You know what I hate about you the most?”

He crouched in front of me, his voice sinister.

“We both lost our fathers. Why do you get to live so easily?”

“Why does Avery still love you more?!”

The realization hit me with the force of a hammer.

Love and hatred—both equally destructive.

Damon had originally intended to avenge his father by destroying both me and Avery.

But he fell in love with Avery instead.

And that only made him hate me more.

4

The morning sun stretched their shadows long, intertwined.

Watching their overlaid figures, I felt a flicker of curiosity.

If Avery knew Damon’s true identity, how would she react?

Would she continue to pity and cherish him, or would she be repulsed?

I couldn’t guess the answer.

Fate is a playwright obsessed with cruelty.

It arranged for the police officer who killed a criminal to die at the hands of that criminal’s son.

And it arranged for the police officer’s daughter, unknowingly, to marry the man who orchestrated the murder of her soulmate.

Sometimes, I wish Damon had been an adult when his father died.

His file wouldn’t have been sealed.

And we wouldn’t have mistaken the son who took over his father’s criminal enterprise for an innocent addict seeking salvation.

Then, perhaps, I wouldn’t have died so horribly.

Every single one of my bones bore scars, both deep and shallow.

In that place, I had screamed, fought, begged, and questioned.

But they only laughed, breaking my limbs and pulling out my teeth one by one.

They kept demanding the location of the police mole and our informants.

In the end, they injected me with three shots of adrenaline.

So I could be wide awake to watch them slice open my abdomen and throw my organs into a dog bowl.

But I had actually been given one chance to live.

Before they completely hollowed out my body, Damon, flanked by several grim-faced men, came to me.

“You’re good. You almost took down my entire operation.”

“I was going to kill you, but Khai convinced me you could be useful.”

“All you have to do is confess to corruption, take the fall, let the police close the case, and you can live out the rest of your life comfortably in prison.”

I managed a grimace.

“In your dreams.”

His smile instantly turned ugly.

“Refuse, and you disappear.”

“A few years from now, Avery will forget all about you anyway.”

I closed my eyes in silence.

Damon suddenly spoke again.

“It’s the anniversary of your father’s death today, isn’t it?”

“Every year, Avery goes with you to the cemetery to pay respects.”

I became instantly alert. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing. I just happened to drop a little paper trail suggesting you were bribing dirty cops. The money flow coincidentally points straight to you.”

Damon’s voice was a hiss, like a viper striking.

“I know she won’t believe it. But she’ll use it as an excuse to reach out and try to reconcile.”

“Men are petty, Rhys. What I can’t have, I’d rather destroy.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Avery’s call came through, insistent and frantic.

Damon nodded. “Answer it. Tell her to bring the cops here.”

I took the call.

Avery asked where I was, wanting to confirm some things in person.

She also wanted to apologize, and then take me to the cemetery.

But her apology had come too late.

Even if I survived, I would be a husk of a man for the rest of my life.

So I said nothing.

Khai grew impatient and raised a blowtorch to my thigh.

The smell of searing flesh filled the air.

I forced myself not to make a sound.

Avery.

She was my closest partner, and my dearest lover.

She gave me the happiest time of my life.

If I had one wish left at the end of my life, I would give everything to ensure her safety.

However, Avery seemed to sense something. Her tone instantly became fraught with tension.

“Rhys, are you in danger? Can you not talk? Hold on, I’m coming to find you right now!”

I shook my head violently, pouring the last of my strength into a desperate shout into the receiver.

“Don’t—”

“Don’t come looking for me! We’re done, do you understand?”

“Go live your life with your charity case! I’m… I’m sick of you!”

I hung up, a bleak smile twisting my mouth.

“Damon, you win.”

Go back and comfort her. She’s yours now.

After that day, they slept together.

They fell into a natural rhythm and became a model couple, even having a child together.

And I died on the coldest day of winter.

Buried under the wilderness for seven years.

Until today, when the medical examiner held the DNA results, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“Detective Jenkins, the deceased is confirmed to be Rhys Alcott.”

“Badge Number 071923… is sealed again.”