Page 199 of Nanny and the Beast

He shakes his head. His eyes are twin pools of sorrow as he watches me.

“Let me inside,” I say, turning to face the door once again.

Alaric does what I ask him to. When the doors click open, I head straight toward the basement. Alaric follows in silence.

All the lights are turned off except for one. It shines down on Richard, casting a spotlight on the man responsible for turning my life into a living hell.

I can see him, but he can’t see me.

His head is slumped, his chin tucked into his chest. As if he can feel a shift in the air, he raises his head. He blinks into the dark, trying to see through it.

I don’t announce my presence. Instead, I stand in the dark, watching mybrother-in-law.

He looks well.

He abandoned his family and escaped his responsibilities as a husband and father, but he looks well.

I’m going to kill this worthless piece of shit.

“No, you’re not,” Alaric whispers. “We need him alive, remember?”

I didn’t realize I said the thought out loud.

Richard’s eyes are frantic as they search the dark.

“Who is it?” he calls out. “I can hear you.”

“On second thought, he’s been annoying me all evening,” Alaric says. “He’s all yours.”

With a grim smile in my direction, Alaric leaves the basement. I walk closer toward the light. I notice that Alaric helpfully set out a little tray of torture devices for me.

I’m going to take my time with this bastard.

I spot the vial of truth serum among the supplies. It’s an injection that acts akin to a lie detector test. Once it’s given to a person, they enter a sedated reality where they can only tell the truth and nothing else. But I won’t be needing that tonight. I’m going to do it the hard way.

“Klaus,” he says, swallowing.

He looks afraid of me, as he should be.

I select a long, gleaming knife and a steel rod from the tray.

I sit on a stool across from him and start sharpening the knife.

“How are the kids?” he sputters. “I missed them every day.”

“Is that true?” I ask.

“Not a day went by without me thinking about them,” he says.

“Is that why you spent the past year vacationing your way through Europe?” I ask.

“I barely survived,” he says. “I was injured for months.”

“You look fine to me,” I say. “And there’s no reason for you to butter me up, Richard. You’ve made your decisions, and I’ve made mine. You’re not getting out of this alive.”

“You don’t even know what happened,” he says. “Alaric tried to kill me.”

“I know that,” I say, pretending I knew this information the whole time.

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