Page 108 of Into Pitch

Alex turns then, his masked gaze finding mine. The world narrows until it’s just the two of us, reflected endlessly in the mirrors.

“This part,” he says, handing over the crowbar, “is not for me.”

My pulse roars in my ears as I reach out slowly, my gloved fingers curling around the warm metal.

“It’s for you,” he murmurs and steps behind me. “Entirely up to you from here, little fox.”

Peter frowns at his words, looking to me as he tries to puzzle out what is happening. He must realize because he bolts, making a go for the seamless mirrors. I flinch when he slams his hands into the glass and looks back to Plague who is waiting for me to act. I swear I can see the brow arch beneath that mask.

“I…” I choke softly. My eyes darting back to Peter who is little more than a bird smacking against the bars of his cage.

“Be a monster with me, little fox.” He purrs and slides his hands down to my wrists.

“You want to understand what it is to be me? Become me.” He whispers and I nod. My eyes turn to Peter, and in that moment everything spins through my mind in a kaleidoscope of images.

Flipping one after the other. Memories of the years spent being mentally and physically tortured by this man. And it isn’t fear that settles in my chest, it’s a raw, ugly anger.

I step forward, Plague’s hands falling from my shoulders as I close in on Peter as he turns to me.

“I-I didn’t do it!” He screams.

My head cocks.

I know the rules. Alex had explained them explicitly when we entered about the masks, but it’s not going to matter anyways. Because the only person leaving this room that knows my face is Plague.

Reaching up, I pull the mask free and let it clatter to the stone at my feet. Peter goes still, his eyes rounding out.

I don’t give him a chance to make up excuses or push me for forgiveness.

I just swing.

The silence that follows Sadie’s wrath is not an empty one.

It’s full; dense with meaning and heavy with consequence. It presses into the cathedral and settles into my lungs like smoke after a fire has burned itself down to embers. I don’t move, but I don’t really need to.

Instead, I just watch where she stands over Peter.

What’s left of him, anyway.

She’s beautiful. Plain and simple.

Her chest rises and falls hard beneath the vest, still vibrating with the release in the aftermath of a moment where her world narrowed down to a single point in which she had absolute control. When she stopped living it and took hold of it by the throat without flinching.

Her mask is gone.

Leaving exactly what she is and what she’s always been.

My beautifully damaged monster.

Her gloves are streaked dark, blood glossy beneath the lights. Her green eyes exquisite where they stare at her hands around the crowbar. She flexes her fingers around the metal and I let her figure out these next moments. Let it all settle in just how brutal she can be when allowed to be.

It doesn’t surprise me that she doesn’t recoil or cry. She certainly doesn’t look away, and in that instant, something in me breaks open.

I have killed men who begged and screamed and men who laughed because they thought they were untouchable. I have never watched someone become this.

Never watched in real-time where someone shed all the bullshit and let themselves be exactly who they were always meant to be. My clever little fox lifts her eyes to my own and the stillness is so complete it feels ceremonial.

“Sadie,” I purr and she sucks in a breath before straightening. Letting us remain in this bloody little ritual she has no realization she just started. That this room will call to her over and over again. That this will become the only place that she can truly be exactly as she was always meant to be.