I grab his wrist and snap one of his fingers sideways. His scream echoes through the lonely field.
"We're going to try that again. Where is she?"
He sobs into the dirt. "I don't know where she is. No one does. All I know is she's gone. They all are. He pulled everyone out."
"What about the child?"
He keeps crying. I shove his face deeper into the dirt until he starts choking.
"No one knows anything. We've heard…rumors. They said the Ferryman wants more than one heir."
The animal inside me comes loose. I break more fingers and this asshole shrieks, his hand curling inward like a crushed spider.
I lean in close. "No more lies. Tell me where he took them."
"I swear. I swear I don't know anything. Please—I'm begging you."
I smile down at him, realizing that torturing this boy because he's withholding information from me is making me a little too happy.
Maybehappyis the wrong word.
"I'll let you go."
His eyes fill with hope, and that's when a better ending for him comes to mind.
Killing him like this would be wasted.
Calder deserves an equally thoughtful message back.
I drag the watcher across the dirt toward the charred foundation. He sprawls on the ash-coated floor as I pull a canister of accelerant from my pack.
When he tries to crawl away, I move behind him and slice the backs of his ankles. The blade parts tendon and muscle. He screams so hard the veins in his neck look ready to burst.
"Your boss likes meaningful messages, so I'm going to write something back in his preferred style."
I pull my lighter from my pocket and flick it open.
The flame drops. Fire ignites instantly, climbing up the walls, across the floor.
Smoke coils toward the sky, thick and black, and my mark burns with it.
Behind me, the watcher shrieks as fire devours him.
I listen to every second until it becomes nothing but noise. I don't turn back because frankly, his death doesn't interest me. But the purpose of it does.
This isn't revenge. It's a warning.
I'm not afraid of the Ferryman. I don't care who he is or how powerful he thinks he is. He's no match for this need burning inside me.
I walk until the heat softens.
Then I remember the tracker inside my arm. Nick insisted on it before we left, but right now it's serving as a leash and I need it gone.
I take out my knife and don't hesitate, cutting into my skin. Blood pours down my arm as I dig for the hard edge of metal. The pain feels good—sharp and grounding.
When I finally dig the tracker free, I flick it onto the ground and crush it under my boot.
Nick will want to put my head through a wall when he figures it out.
