Page 75 of Final Vendetta

“Of course. The daughter of a notorious killer, yet here you are…a caregiver. Or is it just an act? A mask you wear to convince the world, and yourself, that you’re different?”

“I’m nothing like him.” I tightened my hands into fists.

“How can you be sure?” His tone was eerily calm, but there was a glint of something in his eyes that made my stomach churn. “You’ve never been pushed to your limits. Never had to make the kind of choices that reveal who you truly are. That’s why you’re here. So we can find out together.”

“You won’t be finding out anything. I’m not playing your twisted games.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head like a teacher amused by a defiant student. “Oh, but you already are. You’re not the first one, either. You see, I’ve spent years perfecting this. Creating environments where people reveal their true selves. Testing the limits of human nature.”

He moved to the corner of the room, running his fingers along the tally marks etched into the wall.

“Do you know what these represent?” he asked, not looking at me. “Each mark signifies a choice, a moment when someone realized they were capable of crossing a line they never thought possible. Killing. Betraying. Surviving. It’s astonishing, really.”

“You’re sick,” I spat, swallowing down the bile in my throat.

He ignored my remark, turning back toward me with an almost fatherly smile. “This was once Samuel’s cell.”

My heart lurched at the mention of his name.

“And those marks… They represent each time he took a life.”

I slowly shifted my gaze to the tally marks, seeing them in a completely new light now that I knew who made them. There were dozens, infinitely more than the lives my father took.

But he wasn’t my father. This was different.

“And that was just when he was at this facility. There are even more at my other compounds.”

“He didn’t have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice,” he countered with an expression of superiority. “I didn’t even have to push that hard. He adapted so quickly, became exactly what he needed to be. A fighter. A survivor. A killer.” His words hung in the air, echoing around me.

“And now,” he continued, stepping closer, “I’m curious to see if the same potential lies in you. Will you rise above your father’s legacy? Or will you embrace it?”

“You’ll never find out,” I snarled, glaring at him with all the defiance I could muster.

“We’ll see,” he taunted as he walked toward the door. “Everyone has their breaking point. Or perhaps I should say weakness. And I know exactly what yours is.”

He leveled me with a sinister smile, leaving me speechless.

Then the door swung shut, plunging me back into darkness.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Gideon

The tires hummed against the asphalt as I drove toward the meeting point. The world outside my SUV felt strangely distant, the glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the empty road. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ached, but I didn’t ease up. I couldn’t. Not when every second felt like it was ticking down to something I couldn’t control.

I hit the call button on my cell, my throat tight as I waited for Henry to pick up. It rang twice before his voice came through.

“Tell me you have good news.” His words were slightly muffled and distorted, no doubt due to the fact that he was currently on his airplane soaring across the country.

All for me.

“I wish I did,” I said, my voice rough and strained. “All I know is he has Imogene.”

“Who? Vargas?”

I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “The same prick who took me.”

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