Tamsin’s chuckle catches the firelight, turning her hair into black silk edged in gold, making her look as if she crawled straight out of hell.
Dane tears off on his bike while the rest of us climb into the van. Tamsin’s tense beside me, eyes fixed on Felix’s limp body. She’s holding herself together with nothing but willpower.
“I can kill him,” I whisper, leaning into her, lips brushing her neck.
Her cold fingers touch my cheek, steadying me.
“I know, Eiden, but I need this.”
Her voice is raw, threaded with something I’ve never heard from her, a thin crack in the armor. I see it in her eyes; this isn’t just another kill. Felix Foster isn’t just another monster to her. He pretended to care for Daisy,planned her destruction, and savored it.
“We’re here,” Beau calls, breaking the moment. Dane’s bike is already parked at the tree line.
Tamsin glances out the window, and turns to me, sudden and sure, sliding back into my lap.
“You—”
I smirk and tip my head toward the cabin crouched in the dark. “It’s only fair to end it where it all began, hellcat,” I murmur my words into her ear, watching the jump of her pulse at her throat, already tasting the violence waiting inside.
Dane’s done his work well. The place looks exactly as it did the night we first saw her in it—plastic sheeting draped over the walls, chains swaying faintly from the ceiling, the table lined with every tool she’s ever favored, right down to that dull little knife I told her to replace.
She steps inside, the scent of metal and cold earth thick in the air. Her hand curls tight around the doorframe.
“If you ever leave me, I’ll cut your balls off.” Her words hit like a fucking knife to the gut because her tone is serious.
I move in behind her, my chest pressed to her back, arms locking around her waist. My heartbeat hammers against her spine.
“I will kill the entire world for you, Tamsin.” I kissher shoulder. “I won’t go anywhere, ever.”
Felix wakes to the sound of plastic crackling under him as Caleb and Beau chain him against the wall. His head jerks, eyes darting, breath already ragged. He tries to move, but the cuffs bite into his wrists, the chain across his chest locking him into the chair under the harsh light.
The table beside him gleams: knives, pliers, hooks.
I step into his view, mask on, knife in hand.
“You remember what I said?” My voice stays low, even. “About making you eat your own fingers?”
He spits at my boots. Wrong move.
I slam his left hand flat on the wall near the chains and drive the tip of my blade into the base of his pinky finger. Bone crunches against the wood and he screams, the sound high and raw, thrashing until the chain across his chest jerks him still. I cut through tendon and knuckle until the digit comes free, slick and warm in my palm.
“Open your mouth.”
He shakes his head. I clamp my hand around his jaw until his teeth part and shove his pinky finger between them, covering his mouth until I feel the wet convulsion of his swallow. He gags, choking, eyes bulging and I pat his cheek.
“Good boy.”
I step back, letting her take the light. She peels the hoodie from her head, slow, as if she wants him to memorize her face.
“Do you know who I am, Felix?”
He blinks, squints through pain and adrenaline. “You’re just some—”
“Think harder,” she cuts in.
“Daisy,” she says, letting the name hang in the air like smoke.
His body jerks against the restraints. “Daisy…” he repeats, and I see it, that flicker of recognition, the sick glimmer of pride curling at the corner of his mouth.
