Page 150

“You sure it’s him?” I ask.

Reese nods. “Caught him trying to get into the church through the back door.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Why would he be at the church?”

He shrugs. “Maybe he thought she’d be there.”

Zaiya looks past him into the room, where a hooded man sits bound in the center.

She should never have to witness this.

I place a hand at the small of her back. Her posture straightens beneath my touch as I guide her inside.

She’s been here once before, but the chamber looks different without a ritual to perform. A plain cylinder of concrete. Light is concentrated over the man who sits breathing hard under the hood.

Zaiya hangs back near Reese, arms drawn close to her body. I hate that she’s scared. That she’s still trying to fold herself small enough to go unnoticed when power is circling her now.

I step towards the chair, letting my footsteps announce my arrival in the chamber. As I circle him, his head follows the sound. Every move I make is measured. The way I used to be before grief softened me. Before Zaiya gave my madness a purpose.

I grab the hood and rip it off.

Ray Krueger blinks against the light, jaw set, eyes defiant. A man who has spent his life trying to act tough. A serial criminal who’s gotten sloppy with age.

His gaze slides past me and lands on Zaiya, his lip curling.

“I’ll never understand putting stock in pussy,” he says. “All this bullshit for some bitch.”

My knuckles crack against his jaw. His head jerks to the side. The pain in my hand is euphoric because I know it’s ten times worse for him.

“You made the biggest mistake of your life, Ray, when you took my girl from her bed.”

Reese approaches and holds out the handle of a bat to me. Then he gives me some space. I look over and see Zaiya’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t protest.

Ray’s chest starts to heave a little faster when I twirl my wrist to swing the bat around.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, Ray?” My voice gets louder as my agitation grows. Seeing him right in front of me. Picturing his hands on her. I’m about to lose it. “Do you?”

“I did what I was ordered to do. It’s not my fucking fault.”

I press the end of the bat against his hand that’s tied to the arm of the chair. His body locks up, trying and failing to move away.

“This is what happens to anyone who touches her.”

I swing the bat down on his hand. The crack is beautiful. His scream echoes through the entire chamber.

I stroll behind his chair to the other side, watching his body jerk with each pained grunt.

Without warning, I swing down again.

Another crack. Another scream.

Then I look over at Zaiya. Her eyes hold fear. Horror. But also… intrigue. A glimmer of understanding that this is what it takes to make a point.

This motherfucker touched her body. He was planning to offer her up to his boss, who no doubt planned to rape her.

A red veil, singed with fury, drops over my vision.

The bat comes down on his hands, over and over, switching between them. Pulverizing the bones until there’s nothing left but mashed meat. His tortured cries encourage me to keep going so long that I get sick of hearing him. So I slam the bat into his face.