Page 115 of I Will Mend You

“How many?” I yell, making more slashes.

“Twelve. I swear it. Thirteen, if you include the one we made in the dorm room.”

“What’s the name of your roommate?” I ask.

“Nathan. Nathan Vance. He works for the DiMarco Law Firm as an intern.”

I glance over my shoulder to find Xero raising his brows. That’s the name of the firm that represented him when he went to prison. And where Myra’s sister works.

“I can give you names of all the members. Anything. Just please, stop cutting.”

“Too late,” Xero drawls. “My people already downloaded all the data from X-Cite Media’s servers.”

I had a dozen more questions for him, wanting to know if murdering women made him feel powerful or if he just hurt them for sport. But he just repeats the same gibberish about not hurting the women directly. He doesn’t have a clue that workingon a snuff movie makes him a direct participant. Talking to him is worthless when he thinks he’s one of the good guys.

He’s no different from the dozens of people who pulled out their phone, recording Xero’s brother the subway rapist, and who did nothing to stop him when he escaped into the tunnels.

“You’re vermin, Proctor.” I press the tip of my blade into one of the spaces between his ribs. “Since you worked on thirteen videos, you get thirteen chances to die.”

“Please, don’t,” he cries into the wall.

“Turn around.”

He shakes his head.

“Suit yourself.” I push the blade deeper, sliding it between his ribs with satisfying ease. “Count them, or I restart.”

“One,” he gasps out, still cowering into the wall.

I pull out the wet blade and insert it into a different spot, this time with a little twist. The anguished cry he lets out is muffled by the roar of vengeance between my ears.

He chokes out, “Two.”

The air grows hot, and my forehead breaks out in sweat. The body I slice into shakes uncontrollably as he moans the next number.

“Good boy,” I say through my teeth. “You’re taking this knife so well.”

Xero breathes hard behind me, but doesn’t intervene. This slow kill goes against all his principles as an assassin. But I’m not setting this bastard up for further interrogation—this is all about retribution.

My attacks pick up speed, and Proctor’s voice becomes a garbled, choked whimper. At ten, his frail body convulses against the concrete wall, and I give him a moment to catch his breath.

“Three more,” I say, my voice low. “Are you ready to face your death?”

His next word comes out a gurgled sob, and he turns around to meet my eyes.

When I look into his face, I no longer see a monster from my nightmares, but a pathetic coward who gets his kicks hiding behind stronger monsters. He’s a vulture in human form, doing nothing to stop the evil because he’s too preoccupied with getting a piece of the spoils. Blood streams from his lips onto his narrow chest and drips onto the concrete floor.

“I’m bored with you already,” I snap.

Face crumpling, he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Stand up.”

When he shakes his head, Xero steps forward and grabs him by the neck.

“Finish him,” he snarls, his voice a low growl. Pale eyes burn with pride, locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my pulse race.

The line of his jaw hardens with satisfaction, making my breath catch. The way he dominates the smaller man makes my heart skip several beats. A part of me that’s always been ashamed of my violent impulses rejoices at having found a kindred spirit.

---