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“You gonna kill me?” he asks. Antonio’s face, up close, is worse than I remember it. Scarred and angry, holding years of hatred behind the small lines.

“Yes,” I say. Because I have to. Men like him never learn. My grip tightens on the knives, and I press them both deeper, watching as blood springs up at his throat. Just a bit more. I just need to push enough to sever tendons. An artery. It’s easy. So easy.

So why the fuck won’t my knife move?

“Lynx?” It’s Sasha this time. I don’t look at him, but I don’t need to. He’s not crying or scared; I can tell by his voice. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.”

Antonio’s gaze flicks between us. “Do it, then.”

A hole blooms on his shirt where I cut into his stomach. “Don’t tempt me.”

The cockiness in his expression disappears as he hisses in pain.

My steady heartbeat is racing, air struggling to meet my lungs. Every time I ran over this scenario in my head, it went the same way. Calm, collected, completely detached as I set the wrongs of the world right.

My hands weren’t shaking like they are now.

My vision wasn’t struggling to focus.

My lungs didn’t burn with the lack of air.

When I hesitated with Sasha, I assumed it was because I could sense the good in him. There’s no good in Antonio.

And I still can’t do it.

The realization hits me with all the force of one of JJ’s blows.

I’m a failure.

Heavy footsteps pound up the front steps of the cabin, and Wilde storms through the door, breathing as hard as a moose near its end date. Without a word, he crosses to us, and I flinch when he touches my shoulder.

“I’ve got this, Lynx. Put the knives down.”

“Into his gut?”

Antonio grunts in pain as I force the knife deeper.

“This isn’t you,” Wilde says.

“Actually, this is exactly who I’ve trained myself to become.”

“Fine.” He lets me go. “Then do it.”

There’s a moment where I think I can.

Wilde holds out the zip ties he’s holding. “Or move aside so we can restrain him.”

“His gun is over there,” Sasha says, and I’m about to tell him to grab it when I notice his hands are behind his back.

My gaze moves back to Antonio. “You were going to kill him, weren’t you?” The words are so sickening, I could vomit.

“Yes.”

Something dark takes over my whole body. Something sick and intense that turns my vision red. My hands are sweating against the knives, and I picture driving them into his flesh, making him suffer.

But then I’m grabbed from behind and am hauled backward.