“I would think it was hot if my lover wanted me to put his initials on my nails,” I told her honestly.
“You cannot be serious,” she hissed. “How you could want something so disgusting and vile is beyond reason! You’re not a possession! You’re not—”
“How is that different than when a girl wears a necklace with a guy’s name or vice versa?” one of the demons on security teams asked as he arrived, completely unaware of the situation. “I used to wear a bracelet with my lover’s name on it and it made me smile. She engraved it herself—”
“That’s not the same,” she argued.
“But it is,” I whispered. “It is, Samantha. You were traumatized. You took things to the other extreme. You saw monsters where there were only assholes. Yes, they hit you. Yes, that’s horrible, but you don’tkillbecause someone smacked a woman.”
And not to ever victim-blame—not ever—I was wondering how things had gone down with her being so traumatized. When had they hit her? What level did things get to?
Did her power have anything to do with it? What was the true situation?
We would never know since she saw everything through the wrong lens.
Or she was completely accurate and the guys got aggressive and were abusers. Full stop could be the case.
They still didn’t deserve to die for that.
“Listen to me,” I said firmly when she started to argue. I tapped the table and made sure my eyes were kind when she focused on me. “None of your kills bothered me until these last ones that I looked into.”
“No?”
“No,” I said firmly, others echoing me. “Fine, death is not the punishment for rape but fuck, they deserve it in my book. That level of violating someone deserves it. Fine, not the law—whatever. I wouldpainfully killanyone who did that to me or someone I loved. Consequences be damned. None of us here judges you for that.”
“Nor the one who beat their children and sold them,” Elijah added, stretching his neck to keep his annoyance in check.
“Exactly.” I tapped the table again. “You were traumatized, Sam. Everything was painted in different colors for you.” I hurried on when she opened her mouth. “I get it.” I slowly nodded when she flinched. “I’ve been there—I’mstill theremost days. Wolves took me and tortured me. I still see them in a different light.
“So much has happened that what I see ispaintedby my traumas.” I gestured around the room. “We all have. We all know this. We all help each other to keep the line and remove the paint. Elijah has—it’s what packs and covens have that we don’t. We’ve fought to change that—”
“Why bother telling me how you were lucky to find each other and I wasn’t?” she rasped, covering her face. “Fine, now you know it all and just kill me. I became the monster.”
Yes, but… Did she deserve death?
Maybe.
Probably in the name of justice.
“I think there could be another way,” I admitted quietly.
“Like what? Prison for demons?” one of the guys drawled.
“Why the fuck not?” I snapped. “The shifters and others have them. Vamps do.ISLEdoes. Why can’t—”
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry, boss. I just—my head snarked Hell is our prison. Sorry.”
I gave a sharp nod. Yeah, we had too much going on.
“You’ve lived hundreds of years having no idea what you really were, pushed in the wrong way, and did the best you could. You turned into a monster because of what was done to you and clearly you didn’t enjoy it. You didn’t…” I sighed. “We’ll have to discuss this.”
“And maybe with more than us,” Elijah hinted.
It took me a moment, but then I caught on, flinching. The angels.
Yeah, that was probably smart.
“Get us the rest of the names and list,” I told Samatha when she seemed lost. “Some could have still been murderers. Maybe—we weren’t there.”
