Page 63 of Judgment Day

Not a single breath was heard, not even mine.

I mentally counted down.

Three.

Two.

And then I lifted my foot and stomped, paralyzing it with wrath-filled force. Blood pooled around its flattened head. The bottom of its body slithered and curled. I dropped the clear container on top of it, upside down, and watched it thrash and fight until it finally gave in and bowed down.To me.

A collective gulp echoed through the chamber.

I squared my shoulders and inhaled a proud breath. “Gentlemen, you’re dismissed.”

No one shook my hand or patted my ass and said,good game. They simply removed their hoods, looked me in the eye with a single nod as they walked past, then left as they were told. The message was clear. I was their figurehead now.

When the only people left were me, Caspian, Chandler, Lincoln, and Winston, they looked on as I grabbed a can of kerosene from behind the Tribunal table. I walked back to the center of the room, pouring it over the floor as I circled Winston’s throne. “You took my son. You turned Sadie into a monster. You stole five years of my life and killed my parents. What you’re getting is nowhere near what you deserve.”

I’d only ever killed because that was what I had to do to earn my place or to keep people safe—like Lyric. I’d never found any satisfaction in it. Until now.

A flood of memories filled my mind as I reached into the small box and pulled out a match—the sound of Sadie’s voice as I pinned her against the tree, the sharp sting of a snake bite followed by the blinding pain of venom in my eyes, the screams as they stole her. The snap of a whip tearing through my skin, the bile in my throat as I was forced to fuck the fat ass of a prison guard. The expression on Sadie’s face when she told me she took those girls—for him—like she was proud of it, the way my son looked when he saw me for the first time. The painting of parents I didn’t even get to say goodbye to. They all flashed by my eyes, a montage of pain creating a river of rage that coursed through me.

I’d readThe Count of Monte Cristoa hundred times, waiting for the day I, too, would find my revenge.

That day was here. This was the final day of judgment this Sanctuary would ever see.

I locked eyes with Winston. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Blood poured from his nose. “Grey, you don’t have to do this,” he pleaded.

I leaned in and whispered, “There was no poison.”

His grave had been marked.

Myinitials were carved in his soul.

His blood belonged tome. No one else.

I straightened and smiled. “I just wanted you to know what it felt like to be betrayed.” That was the brutal honesty of humanity. If you weren’t an asset, you were a liability. People didn’t like liabilities.

Without another thought or word, I struck the match and watched it fall to the floor.

His screams followed us out the door. “Grey! You don’t have to do this. Please. Don’t you fucking do this! GREEEEYY!”

It wasn’t until we were a few blocks away that we saw the flames paint the midnight sky in shades of orange and red.

The Sanctuary was no more.

THIRTY SEVEN

“You good?”Caspian asked as I drove them to the airport.

I stared out the windshield, hearing the sirens and watching the emergency vehicles pass us by. “Never better.” It was a lie.

I felt relieved.

I felt vindicated.

But I was still empty.

For twelve years, I’d been fueled by the hunger for revenge. Now that I had it, there was a dark void where that hunger used to be.

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