Page 33 of The Sinner's Bargain

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THORAN

Murder.

It was the key element in my thought process. The slow and violent death of the person responsible for the terror in her eyes. I wanted to hunt them down like a rabid animal, to cause them unimaginable trauma mentally before starting on the physical. The sheer number of ways I would carve into them, but never allowing them death. It would be months of pain by my hands. Maybe years. I would dedicate my life to their suffering.

My fingers curled on my thigh. The knuckles bleached white. My nails bit into my skin and I thought of the dozens of fine scars marking her palm. The raw ones still so red and tender.

It baffled me.

The churning volcano of rage bubbling up my chest had no place. It had no base. No foundation. The girl meant nothing to me. I didn’t even know her fucking name. To willingly want to disembowel and destroy every person responsible for causing even a tear was frustrating.

Maybe it wasn’t her.

Maybe it was the idea of any innocent person being hurt that got me.

Maybe I was actually just a really nice guy and I never realized.

I almost laughed at the theory even before it finished.

I was not a good guy. I didn’t ride into battle for the weak and helpless. I wasn’t a saint, nor could I lie to myself into believing it.

I glanced away from the glass of orange juice placed next to my empty plate and fixed my gaze on Cyrus standing by the door.

“Check on her.”

I would have gone, but I had already proven I was getting suspiciously too lost in this stranger. I needed to get my head on straight.

“And she’s said nothing useful about herself?” On my right, Vance lowered the horn-rimmed glasses perched on his angular nose to pin me with his dark eyes.

I shook my head, but my attention was on Cyrus leaving the room.

I should have gone to get her.

“Should we take her to a bus station?” Oliver prompted, looking hopefully to Vance to agree.

“It might be best.” Vance folded the arms over his glasses and set them next to his coffee mug. “She can’t stay here, and we can’t keep her.”

I disagreed but let them finish.

“It’s not safe for her here anyway,” Oliver pointed out. “Look at what happened before.”

I couldn’t argue that.

I’d lost five other women there already, not including my mother and grandmother. Women didn’t live long at Lacroix House.

“I’m not marrying her,” I reminded myself, and them in case they had any ideas to that effect. “And she’s not staying.”

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