The smell hits seconds later. Rotting meat beneath chemical cold.
I shift my focus to Elliot as I walk toward him, the cup still in my hand, my steps slow and certain as the space between us closes.
He notices. His breathing changes first, growing uneven as his eyes drop to the cup before lifting back to mine. His leg lies twisted beneath him, useless. He watches me, tracking every step.
I stop in front of his cage and hold his gaze, letting the silence sit there long enough to settle into him before I move. Then I lower myself just enough to meet his eyes through the bars.
I lift the cup.
His head pulls back on instinct, but there is nowhere for him to go, nowhere for him to escape what is already coming.
I tip it forward.
The contents pour through the bars and onto his head, thick and wet as it hits his hair and spreads over his face. It clings for a second before sliding down, dragging across his skin in slow streaks, catching in his lashes, smearing over his mouth.
Elliot screams as he gags violently, thrashing against the bars while the liquid runs into his mouth and nose. He tries turning away, but it only smears deeper across his face. He spits and chokes, panic finally breaking through whatever composure he had left.
Sophie makes another broken sound from the other cage.
I rise back to my feet and watch him. Seth steps up beside me.
“You both loved to play games,” I smile. “You should be grateful we came prepared with refreshments.”
Seth moves closer to the cages, his tone calm.
“I’ll be nice,” he says. “One of you gets a choice. I’m going to make it long and painful either way, but one of you can volunteer and at least die before you watch what I do to the other.”
The silence that follows presses in around us.
“So, decide.”
Sophie’s breathing comes out fast and shallow. Her fingers tighten around the bars. Her eyes move from Seth to me to the tub and the blender, taking everything in while her brain tries to find a way out that doesn't exist.
Elliot speaks before she can.
“Do her first,” he blurts. “Take Sophie first.”
The words come out fast, almost tripping over each other, like his mouth can't wait to shove her in front of him.
Sophie’s head snaps toward him.
Her face crumples for a second, disbelief pushing through the pain.
“Elliot,” she shouts. Her voice sounds thin and broken. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
I laugh, the sound low and mean and completely sincere.
“See, Sophie,” I step closer to her cage. “See how fast the man you served throws you under the bus. You were nothing but a toy to him.”
I smile at Sophie’s face, watch the realization sink all the way in, then turn my head.
“Beau, get the lye.”
Beau pushes off the table without a word. His boots click across the concrete as he heads toward the metal shelves along the wall. Glass clinks softly while he moves bottles aside, searching for the white bag.
I face Sophie again.
Her hands still grip the bars. Her knuckles have gone pale. Her eyes shine wet, furious and terrified, locked on Elliot like she wants to rip his throat out before we can.
