The adrenaline is a twisted gift right now, numbing the pain in my arm and foot to a simple throb. I can't put my full weight on my left leg, but I can limp. I can move. And I can kill.
I walk toward Cormac, keeping my gun on him.
He's trying to crawl now, dragging himself across the floor with his arms, leaving a smear of blood in his wake.
I holster my gun and grab him by the throat, forcing him to stand, then slam him against the nearest wall.
The impact drives the air from his lungs. He gasps, clawing at my hand, but I'm stronger than he is.
I punch him.
My fist connects with his nose and cartilage crunches. Blood sprays across my knuckles. I hit him again, his jaw this time, feeling bone crack beneath the blow. His head snaps sideways, blood and spit flying.
"You motherfucker!" I yell and hit him again.
And again.
And again.
Each impact sends shockwaves of pain up my arm, but I don't care. I keep hitting him, watching his face transform into a ruin of blood and shattered bone. His nose is mush and his jaw hangs at a wrong angle. One eye swells shut.
Finally, the pain in my injured arm becomes too much and I step back, breathing hard, and Cormac slides down the wall, landing in a heap at my feet.
He tries to crawl away.
I watch him for a moment. This monster who tortured his own daughter, who murdered my father, who built an empire on blood and fire and madness and called it revenge. He's whimpering now, dragging himself across the floor, leaving a trail of crimson behind him.
I step forward and bring my boot down on his right hand. I wince because I have to put all my weight on my injured foot.
But I hear his fingers break. Cormac screams again, louder this time, his voice breaking.
"You like fire?" My voice comes out low. "You like burning people?"
I grind my heel into his hand, watching his face contort in agony. The face that ordered hits on my family. That called for Keira to be marked and Declan to be attacked, and my father's life to end.
I stomp on his fingers again. These are the fingers that did terrible things to Zaria's flesh.
I look over at her.
She's watching me from the altar, her chest heaving. I'm glad she is, because her monster is being destroyed. And I'm the one doing it.
I release Cormac's hand and grab him by his robes, hauling him across the floor toward the edge of the burning circle. The flames have crept closer now, eating through the floorboards, consuming everything in their path.
"Zaria." Cormac's voice is barely recognizable, gurgling through blood and broken teeth. "Zaria, please. I am your blood! I am the true vessel of the Morrígan!" He twists in my grip, reaching toward her with his ruined hand. "Tell him to stop!"
I look at Zaria.
Her face is pale, streaked with tears. The firelight dances in her eyes. For a long moment, she just stares at the man who called himself her father, the man who branded her, tortured her, sacrificed her sisters on altars just like the one she's on.
Then she looks at me and nods.
Her answer is my command.
I turn back to Cormac. I pull him up by his robes until we're face to face, until I can see every glimpse of fear in his remaining good eye.
"You're nothing," I say.
His mouth opens to beg, to curse, to pray to his false goddess. I don't give him the chance.
