Page 29 of The Torturer's Target

He walked deeper into the room and sensed a different aura from her—an unusual one. Big Cat approached his niece and observed her distressed features. He sat beside her on the bed as she looked away from the night sky and faced him.

He refrained from commenting on the bruises marring her face, his attention drawn to something in her eyes he had never seen before.

After a period of silence, Big Cat said, “I didn’t see anything about Maximilian Kingston’s death on the news. Either you didn’t carry out the mission, or you failed.”

Silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

As expected, Tesiera said nothing to Big Cat.

“What happened out there, Siera?” He tried again.

He exhaled. She was always stubborn and kept to herself, even with him. He rose from the bed, about to give up, but her voice stopped him.

“I keep telling myself not to believe him. I keep telling myself he’s lying. But the truth is that I think I’m lying to myself,” she said in a whisper.

She might as well be speaking a foreign language to him. The words didn’t make sense.

“I know I believe him.” She paused to touch her chest, clutching it slightly. “Maybe that’s why I feel so uncomfortable here.”

“What happened?” Big Cat asked and sat down again on the bed.

She took a moment before answering, and then she faced Big Cat and said, “I almost killed an innocent man. Max Kingston didn’t kill my father.”

Big Cat grimaced. He’d previously suspected something of this nature. Apart from seeing the man’s records, it had simply felt odd to him. The man didn’t send out the vile vibes he knew so well.

“Investigations can be wrong sometimes. That is why it’s better to keep a clear head so you can recognize the discrepancies when they appear.”

“I know that. I—” She breathed deeply. “I was so sure it was him. If not for that picture, a part of me still wouldn’t believe his claims.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Tesiera,” he said.

She snorted. “You think I don’t know that? I don’t even want to beat myself up for it. But I can’t seem to let it go. I unleashed twenty-year’s worth of rage on an innocent man. I was going to gut him like a fish. Torture him the way my father was tortured; kill him the way he was killed. And it turns out he is not the guy I was looking for. I came this close to killing him,” she stated, bringing her thumb and her forefinger so close that they were almost touching.

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, looking away gazing into the darkness.

Big Cat wanted to be there for her—to offer her comfort and support in his own way.

“Sleep here tonight,” he offered half-heartedly, expecting Tesiera to say no as she always did.

“I sleep in my own home,” she said.

“I know,” he said softly. “However, you are welcome to stay over if you’d like. You can sleep in this room, sleep in your old bedroom, or anywhere of your choice.”

Tesiera remained silent, her gaze fixated on the view outside the window.

Sighing, Big Cat got up from the bed. “Goodnight, my dear,” he said, patting her on the arm before leaving the room.

Tesiera sat there, lost in her thoughts. Her mind was a jumbled mess. But deep inside, she was happy she’d come here. The familiar surroundings made her feel better.

Eventually, she made her way to her old bedroom. She switched on the lights as she entered, and everything was just as she had left it. Cleaned, but otherwise untouched.

Turning off the lights, she removed her clothes and got into bed, pulling the blanket over her body. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over her.

Sleep was elusive. She twisted and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but was restless and her mind was racing. She has killed countless people before, and she’d never felt like this. Why was this so different?

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