I was there ten minutes, watching him pull back layers of skin on the guy’s chest until white bone peek through before Maeve found me. I was in rough shape—it was the first time I had been in a small, enclosed room since my escape, and I was close to having a meltdown, listening to the man scream and smell the burning blood from Ferguson’s blow torch.
It took less than two for her to push me out and lock the door behind me.
I never knew what happened in that room, or what she told Ferguson, or what she had to do to keep me out, but she saved me. It was a few years later when Maeve invited me into another interview without Ferguson.
The man in the chair wasn’t someone I knew—but someone we needed information from. Her techniques were methodical, thorough, and clean. I learned how to calm myself, how to never give into the depravity, but to get the information and leave it behind.
To know Collins was stuck with Ferguson—who lived, breathed, andenjoyedthe suffering of others, in that terrible room, forced to do unspeakable things, at twelve? I swallow my vomit.
I’m positive he allowed Michael to hurt Maeve because he wanted her tobehurt. And Ferguson hurt Collins. He twisted her senses, so now she craves the violence and pain to feelgood.
“Relax your fist,” Simon chastises, patting my arm. Exhaling, I try to hold back my anger.
“Did you help, Simon?”
The doctor nods. “I had to show her what to look for. Keep the guys alive.” He sighs. “At first, I thought she’d break, right? Killing is easy, but dissecting someone who is alive, thattakes skills. A strong stomach. But she did it.” Simon shrugs. “Impressed the hell out of me and Ferguson.”
“For how long?” My voice is like iron.
He ties off a knot. “All night, sometimes. For years. Ferguson would lock us in until the guy either talked, she learned something new, or the guy died.”
My anger rises like a tsunami, fast and powerful, sweeping through me with a sick vengeance. Ferguson abused all his children in his special way. And Collins was no different.
He psychologically tortured her. Forced her to endure horrendous things in order to prepare her for something. Knowing him, he had a plan, a motive for this.
I wish he was still alive. I’d kill him,torturehim, for harming my viper.
“Did you ever stop him? Tell him enough?”
Simon snorts. “Right. Tell Ferguson ‘no?’ Collins tried the first time. She shook like a leaf but never cried. Tough girl that?—”
Grabbing the metal tray, I slam it into Simon’s face, actions no longer under my control. His body catapults across the room, crumpling to the floor as I jump to my feet, standing over him.
Blood drips from the tray and I heave, anger pulsing in my veins like a charging bear. I’ve been in this life long enough. I don’t check his vitals—his skull is smashed wide open, and head tilted at an odd angle.He’s dead.
I’m not sorry. The only thing I am sorry about was never stopping this to begin with. Collins has this secret, this tarnish on her soul, and I never knew.
God. She’s stained in blood and her father’s sins, unable to ever get clean. I loved her, watched her for years and never knew.
“Huh,” Killian comments, leaning against the doorframe. “I always thought if anyone was going to kill him, it’d be me.”
“Fuck,” I curse, dropping the tray. Red splatters the wall and I run a hand through my locks. “Why are you everywhere lately?” My body is still tight, needing another fight to take the edge off.
The reaper looks like a good option.
Killian smirks. “It’s my thing.”
But right now, I have a mess to clean up. Grabbing Simon’s white coat, I search for his wallet, keys, phone—anything that might be used to identify him. All of it needs to be destroyed.
“Grab his legs, I’ll get the upper half,” I direct, pulling the body so I get his arms.
Killian tsks, seemingly put out, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I work for you now?”
“At this moment? Yes.”
He takes out his phone, clicking a few keys, ignoring me.I still might kill him.“Is that so?”
“Killian,” I growl, patience thin. “We need to dump the body before Maeve sees.”
