So I did. Resumed humming my lullaby while I worked, carefully peeling back eyelid from eye while Nathan held Carter's head still. It should have been horrific—was horrific—but somehow his presence made it feel like a shared ritual instead of solitary madness.
"You've done this before," I noted, watching how expertly he controlled Carter's thrashing.
"Not this specifically." He adjusted his grip as I switched to the second eye. "But I've had interesting hobbies over the years. Traveling for work provides opportunities to... experiment."
"Is that what Lilah was? An experiment?"
His hands didn't falter, but something shifted in his expression. "No. She was a genuine case. A favor for someone who helped me once. I didn't expect to find her. Certainly didn't expect to find her like this."
"Disappointed?"
"Fascinated." He watched me work with that intense focus I'd grown addicted to. "I've never met someone who sings lullabies while removing eyelids. It's very specific."
"Gabriel used to—" I cut myself off, but too late.
"Used to what?"
Carter had gone unconscious. I set down the forceps, suddenly exhausted. "Used to sing to us during punishments. Said it helped with the conditioning. Traumatic events paired with soothing sounds create cognitive dissonance that makes the mind more malleable."
"Us." Nathan's voice was carefully neutral. "There were others."
"Batches. Groups of girls, trained together. I was Batch 47. I didn't know there was others." I laughed, sharp and bitter. "God, I'm just telling you everything, aren't I? Might as well hand you a signed confession."
"Bunny." He turned me to face him, hands gentle but firm on my shoulders. "I'm standing in a basement helping you torture a human trafficker. I think we're past the point of confessions."
He was right. We'd crossed some invisible line the moment he walked down those stairs and didn't run. Now we stood on theother side of normal, two predators recognizing each other in the dark.
"Help me move him," I said. "I have a better spot for the final work."
We worked in synchronicity that felt too natural. Nathan anticipated what I needed before I asked, moving Carter's unconscious form to the drain, helping me position him for maximum efficiency. Our bodies moved around each other with the grace of long practice we hadn't actually had.
"You're very calm about this," I observed, preparing the final tools.
"Should I be panicking?" He watched me select a blade. "Running to the authorities? Trying to save this piece of human garbage who sold children to monsters?"
"Most people would."
"I'm not most people." He leaned against the wall, sleeves still rolled up, a few drops of blood decorating his expensive shirt. "Neither are you. That's what makes this interesting."
I made the first cut, precise and deep. Carter jerked awake for a moment, then went slack as biology took over.
"There," I said quietly. "Now we wait."
"How long?"
"Ten minutes, give or take. Depends on his constitution." I started peeling off my gloves. "You can go back upstairs if you want. This part's just cleanup."
"I'll stay."
We stood together in comfortable silence, watching Carter's life drain away into the floor drain. It should have been awkward—was definitely insane—but felt as natural as our afternoon conversations.
"The Volkov brothers," Nathan said eventually. "You're going after them."
"Dimitri first. Tuesday. He'll be at the warehouse on Pier 47." I glanced at him. "I suppose you'll try to stop me."
"Why would I do that?" He seemed genuinely puzzled. "They're trafficking children. They deserve whatever creative ending you have planned."
"Because you're a detective. You solve crimes, not commit them."
