Page 70 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“The system that should deliver justice is broken beyond repair,” Garrett says softly. “So I will deliver it myself. Someone has to make them pay for what they did.”

I’ve killed hundreds. I have no moral high ground here. But there’s something different about what Garrett is doing. It feels less like justice and more like self-destruction.

“You’ve been torturing them for weeks, listening to them scream and watching them suffer,” I say quietly, stepping closer. “This isn’t punishing them. It’s poisoning you. Every hour you spend down here, you become more like the ones you’re torturing.”

Garrett flinches like I’ve hit him. “Whatever monster I am, they’re worse. They deserve this.”

“Maybe they do.” I step even closer, close enough to see the fractures in his eyes. The exhaustion. The pain he’s trying to bury under cold determination. “But this is destroying you, Garrett. Whatever you were before you started this, you’re losing it. Piece by piece. I can see it.”

Silence falls for several beats.

“I know.” The admission is quiet, almost a whisper. “But I can’t stop. Not until they’ve all paid.”

“Will those children be any less dead after you’ve tortured every man who killed them?” It’s a cruel question, but he needs to face it.

His hand shakes slightly. “No. It won’t bring them back. But at least they won’t have died unavenged.”

I look at the blood on his hand and the shadows under his eyes. Garrett isn’t some sadist enjoying torture. He’s not doing this because he likes it. His mind broke trying to reconcile that the people he trusted murdered children. He’s destroying himself because he doesn’t know any other way to process the horror.

It’s killing him.

“How did you find out?” I ask quietly.

“By accident. I was investigating something else, irregularities in supply reports. I found a hidden file in the archives,” he mutters, shoulders sagging. “I tried to ignore it at first and tell myself it was lies, propaganda, perhaps our fae enemies trying to sow discord. But then I checked the official archives myself.”

Behind him, Marcian stirs weakly, making soft sounds of pain. Garrett doesn’t even look at him.

“I couldn’t let it stand,” he continues, still staring at his bloody hands. “I couldn’t just... pretend I didn’t know. So I made a plan and started taking them, one by one. I made it look like they were being targeted by someone else and then I did what needed to be done.”

“This isn’t what needed to be done,” I say.

“Then what should I have done?” He looks at me, and there’s desperation in his eyes now. His raw emotion finally breaking through the cold control.

I don’t have an answer. In my world, justice is a knife in the dark and a body that stops breathing. But I’ve never had to grapple with betrayal on this scale.

“You should stop,” I say finally. “Before this consumed you completely.”

We stand in silence. Marcian has passed out in his chains, which is probably a mercy. The other prisoners are quiet too, either dead or unconscious.

The torch flames flicker.

“What are you going to do?” Garrett asks quietly. “Now that you know.”

It’s a good question. What the fuck am I going to do?

I’m his hired guard. My job is to protect him.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

He nods like he expected that answer. “You should go. Forget you saw this. I’ll handle the cleanup.”

I shake my head. “I can’t forget this, Garrett.”

“Then what?” He meets my eyes. “Are you going to stop me?”

A part of me understands darkness and his need for retribution. He wants to ensure that monsters don’t get to walk away unscathed. Garrett studies my face, searching for judgment and condemnation.

“You’re not horrified,” he says slowly, like he’s just realizing it.