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Marie thrashed against the chair while I continued working through the resistance beneath the flesh. Her screams cracked into hoarse, broken sounds, but I kept going until something finally gave and the severed finger dropped onto the table. It rolled through the blood before falling onto the floor.

The wedding ring remained wrapped around it.

Greg shouted through the gag.

The fight left his body as he stared at Marie’s injured hand. Horror replaced his anger when he understood that his betrayal had brought us into their home.

I crouched and picked up the severed finger. Blood coated my glove as I pulled the wedding band free and held it beneath the light. Marie sobbed uncontrollably while staring at what remained of her hand, but Greg couldn’t look away from the ring between my fingers.

I walked toward him and dropped it onto the table directly in front of him. The gold band landed beside his broken finger. His Collective ring remained crooked around the damaged joint. His wife’s wedding ring rested in her blood beside it.

I couldn’t have arranged the symbolism better if I’d planned it.

Greg lowered his head. Colin grabbed his hair and forced it back up.

I returned to Marie and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her head backward until her throat stretched beneath the dining room light.

Tears and blood covered her face, and her breathing came in frantic, shallow gasps as I brought the knife toward her shoulder. The first shallow cut opened beneath the blade, followed by another across her chest. She twisted beneath my grip, but there was nowhere for her to go. I continued until thin streams of blood ran down her skin and soaked into the front of her blouse.

None of the wounds were deep enough to kill her.

Greg needed time to understand what his betrayal had done.

Every time Marie screamed, Colin reminded him why she was screaming. Every time Greg tried looking away, John forced his attention back toward his wife.

The Collective hadn’t come to their house merely to kill him. Death would have been too simple. Greg needed to understand that betrayal had consequences extending far beyond his own body, and Marie had become the clearest possible demonstration.

Then the oven timer dinged.

John’s head turned toward the kitchen, and something about Greg and Marie changed immediately. Greg stopped fighting, and Marie went completely still beneath my hand. Their reaction made John move toward the kitchen.

The smell of cinnamon had changed while we were occupied. Burned sugar and scorched butter had begun creeping through the house, mixing with the metallic smell of blood until the sweetness became almost nauseating. Johnny Cash continued playing from the stereo as John crossed the hardwood toward the kitchen. Marie’s eyes followed every step he took.

John reached the entrance to the kitchen and stopped.

Marie barely seemed to breathe. Greg stared at him through his swollen eyes.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

John took another step before pausing again. Whatever he heard apparently wasn’t enough to interest him, because he eventually turned around and returned to the dining room.

“Let’s finish this.”

His tone ended the matter. John never invited questions during an assignment and I had no reason to challenge him.

I turned back toward Marie, caught her jaw and forced her face toward her husband. Greg stared back at her through eyes swollen from the beating, his face covered in drying blood while fresh red continued soaking through his clothes. His broken finger rested uselessly against the table, the Collective ring still wrapped around it.

Marie looked considerably worse. Blood covered what remained of her hand, stained the front of her blouse, and streaked her face where her split lip had mixed with tears.

For several seconds, the husband and wife simply stared at each other.

Something passed silently between them.

Maybe it was an apology. Maybe Greg was finally understanding exactly what his choices had cost. Maybe Marie was telling him she loved him despite everything.

I didn’t particularly give a fuck.

Their private moment had lasted long enough.