I opened the vial and poured the contents into his whiskey. “You truly are a monster,” he said, before downing his drink.
“So I have been told,” I said coldly.
“There is a special place in Hell for people like you.”
Suddenly William slipped from his chair, laying on the floor, unmoving. I knew that he could still hear me, but he couldn’t move.
“I cannot wait to go there, friend. Until then, I’ll torture and maim your wife before I leave her on the streets for the dogs to feast on.” He didn’t respond, and eventually, he stopped breathing, his face blue from lack of oxygen.
I stood, noticing that the two-way mirror was now glass. I expected to find her staring at me in shock, horror even. Instead, she looked me dead in the eye and cocked a brow.
“You call that darkness, Arthur? You barely touched the surface,” she sneered then told Geraint to take her back to her room because she was bored.
