Page 117 of Misery
I look down at Thiago, broken and bleeding but still breathing.
Still a threat.
As long as he lives, Elfe will never be truly safe.
He'll heal.
He'll come back.
He'll never stop.
"I'll handle it."
Eleyna meets my eyes, understands. "I'll wait in the car."
She leaves. It's just me and Thiago now. Like it was always going to be.
"Brother," he wheezes through the pain. "You won't. You can't. Not after everything we've been through."
"You're right. We've been through everything." I pull out my Glock. "That's why it has to be me."
"She'll know. She'll know you murdered me."
"No. She'll know I protected her. That's what I do. I'm the Executioner, Thiago, remember?"
"We're the same?—"
"No. We were never the same."
The shot echoes through the empty plant. Clean. Quick. More mercy than he deserved.
I stand over his body for a moment. The boy I grew up with. The brother I chose. The monster he became. All gone now.
"Rest in peace, you twisted fuck."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Elfe
The bourbon stopped burning an hour ago.
Now it just sits warm in my stomach, doing nothing to quiet the voices in my head.
We're on our second bottle—or maybe third. I've lost count.
My mother, sister, and I arranged around the kitchen table like we're holding a wake for someone who isn't dead yet.
The condensation from our glasses has created overlapping rings on the wood, looking like the Olympic symbol if the Olympics were for grief and terror.
"He's strong," Helle says for the hundredth time. "Dad's survived worse."
"Has he?" I ask, and the question hangs there because we all know he hasn't.
Not really.
Bar fights, yes.
Rival clubs, sure.
