“No.” I continued to shake my head, not knowing what else to do.
“And why not? You’ve seen what people like her do. You’ve investigated the aftermath, collected the evidence, interviewed the survivors—when there are survivors. You know what happens to those children.”
He was right. I did know.
I’d worked trafficking cases before. I’d looked into the empty eyes of children who’d been bought and sold like commodities, used and discarded like trash. Had read the reports that made me physically ill, detailed documentation of unspeakable acts. Seen the photographs that invaded my dreams and never really left. Attended the autopsies of the ones who didn’t survive, standing in sterile rooms while pathologists cataloged what had been done to their small bodies.
“She deserves to die. You know she does. You’ve always known that some people are beyond redemption. Beyond rehabilitation. That some crimes are too monstrous to forgive, too terrible to allow second chances.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a syringe. He held it up to the light, the liquid inside catching the glow from the overhead bulb.
“Propofol,” he said clinically. “High dose, injected directly into the jugular vein. She won’t even know anything’s wrong. It’ll be like going to sleep and never waking up.”
He held it out to me, the syringe balanced on his palm like an offering.
“No,” I told him, but the word came out weak.
“Think about Caroline Carter. Think about what Eliza Taylor did to her, what she allowed to be done. Think about the thirty-six others. Think about the children she’ll destroy if she walks away from this.”
He leaned closer, his eyes burning with conviction. “There’s nothing you can do to change her fate, Shay. She’s dead either way. But this—this is your chance to understand.”
I stared at the syringe. At the unconscious woman on the floor. At Tom’s face, so earnest and passionate, completelyconvinced of his own righteousness.
He was right about one thing. There was nothing I could do to save her.
Did she even deserve to be saved?
No.I couldn’t allow myself to think like that. Couldn’t start down that road.
It didn’t matter anyway. Not really. She was dead. Whether I participated or not, whether I watched or looked away, whether I screamed in protest or remained silent—the outcome was the same. Tom would kill her if I didn’t. One way or another, Eliza Taylor’s life would end in this basement.
But if I did it—if I took that syringe and plunged it into her neck—what would that make me?
Did I have a choice either way?
“She won’t feel anything?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Hope flared in Tom’s eyes, bright and terrible, like a match struck in darkness. “Nothing. I promise. It’ll be like going to sleep.”
I told myself the same thing. Repeated it like a mantra. She won’t feel a thing. It would be like going to sleep. A mercy, really. Better than she deserved.
I told myself I was doing this to survive. That this was an act of self-preservation, that anyone in my position would do the same thing.
I told myself so many lies in those few seconds, building a fortress of justification around the terrible thing I was about to do.
And then I reached out with shaking hands and took the syringe from him.
It was heavier than I expected, the weight of it disproportionateto its size.
Tom uncuffed one of my wrists, leaving the other chained. It gave me just enough freedom to move more freely. He helped me stand, steadying me when my legs threatened to give out.
We moved toward the woman together. Eliza Taylor. Child trafficker. Monster.
The labels were supposed to make it easier, but they felt insufficient against the reality of what I was about to do.
I knelt beside her, the syringe clutched in my hand. Her face was peaceful in unconsciousness. She looked like someone’s mother. Someone’s daughter. Ordinary. Human.
“The jugular,” Tom said softly, kneeling beside me. His hand covered mine, warm and steady, guiding it to her neck. “Right there. Feel the pulse? That’s where you need to go. Quick and firm. Don’t hesitate. It’ll be over in seconds, and then she won’t hurt anyone else ever again.”
