Roger summons the strength to tear at the harness. His curses litter the night as he claws at the leather. “He’s special,” he eventually says. “I watched him the longest. He’s beautiful with baby blue eyes, his fine blond hair cut into a bowl. His skin is soft and delicate.”
While he’s been lost in his memories, his underwear displays the true lack of his remorse. An erection tints the dingy material. I advert my eyes in disgust.
Still, I need to know if this man is capable of change. I force my gaze back to Roger. “Can you release him?” Notwillhe release him, butcanhe. The two words are not interchangeable to a vile person like this.
His mouth twitches with a telling micro expression as he attempts to form the words. My sight is hindered, especially in the dark, and yet he’s unable to mask his true intentions.
“Yes,” he shouts. “Okay? I will release him. Let me go, and I’ll take you to him.”
Liar.
“But what about the others?” I insist. “All the future victims you may harm. How can we trust that you’re reformed, that you’ll never hurt another child again?”
His chuckle echoes across the clearing. “Are you serious right now?” He glares down at me. “You’re a fucking therapist. You know how my illness works.” He releases a lengthy breath. “I can promise to try, all right? I’ll seek help. I’ll go to the meetings. I’ll put a goddamn chastity belt on my dick.” He fights the harness again. “Now get me the hell down from here, you fucking cunt.”
Yes, Roger has many more disorders to unearth. Woman-hating misogynist is definitely on that list. There’s no reform in his future. If he’s set free, he may do some time in prison, but he’ll be released eventually. Set loose to prey on innocent lives.
Our judicial system fails when it comes to punishing predators of children—the very lives most deserving of protection. Grayson was the victim of a monster like Roger, and so were me and my sister. Now, rehabilitation is impossible for any of us.
“What are you waiting for?” Roger yells. “Do it!”
One will free him. One is the kill switch.
I yank the rusted key.
Roger’s scream arcs over the maze as his body plunges feet-first into the tank.
He sinks to the bottom. The liquid churns and froths violently, bleeding pink at first, then a deep, sickening crimson. Pieces of flesh bob upward, bumping against the sides before floating to the surface. I won’t look away—I can’t. I force myself to watch the gruesome death unfold.
Minutes pass, or maybe it’s only seconds. The liquidthickens into a paste-like substance, too thick to discern Roger any longer.
My thoughts are a void, carved out of me and splashed across the night. I simply exist, the purest sense of acceptance melding into the natural order, my existence finally balanced.
Then I feel his arms enclose my waist.
Grayson pulls me against his chest. I lean my head back, feeling his heart beat in time with mine. His solid form embraces me as he says, “Our first kill.”
29
DELIVERANCE
GRAYSON
Abuzz fills the night air, a charged current caressing, embracing. I feel the electric pulse of it vibrating along London’s skin, crackling under my touch.
Our first kill.
I’m drawn to her heat like a moth to a flame, like she can ward off the demons haunting our past. She’s my temple, and I long to kneel at her feet and worship her.
“I’m on fire,” she says, adrenaline still surging through her veins, her flesh simmering hot beneath my arms. My muscles and sinew tighten, aching to crush her body against mine.
She doesn’t need to explain. I understand what she’s feeling. I’m lit from the thrill of our kill—I can’t stop touching her, every sensation, every texture between us tantalizing, erotic.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper next to her ear. “So alive.” My fingers find the clasp at the top of her dress, and I drag the zipper down the length of her spine. My fingers trail her exposed skin, my entire being ignited, consumed by a fiery need to touch every inch of her.
“I may have passed your test,” she says with a slight shiver, “but I failed mine.” Her body goes rigid.
The boy.She failed to save him.
