I pictured her begging, screaming, denying, breaking. I pictured myself satisfied. Now she hangs in front of me, bruised and shaking, blood drying in thin lines over pale skin, and the truth is far less simple. Because after all these years of waiting, after every mile of rage that dragged me here, I still don’t know where to begin.
Cain stands off to the side, breathing hard, anger still rolling off him in waves. He needed the outburst. I need something cleaner—something slower.
I step toward her and watch her entire body tense in response. The chain above her trembles with the movement, metalwhispering through the room. Her eyes dart between me and Cain, searching for whichever monster feels safer.
How adorable.
“I’m not going to ask why you bullied my brother,” I say softly, the calmness in my voice making her recoil harder than rage ever could. “That part stopped mattering a long time ago.” I step into her space until I can smell fear on her skin and see tears trembling in her eyes. “I only want one honest answer.”
Her breathing turns ragged.
“Did you enjoy it?”
Something in her expression shifts, like the question wounded her more than everything else put together.
“But I didn’t…”
I press one bare finger lightly to her lips, silencing her before the lie can finish. Her whole body flinches at the touch.
“Oh, but you did.” I say it so gently it almost sounds comforting. “You did, kitten. You wanted it, and you loved it.” I let the word settle into her, then drag my hand away slowly before slipping the glove from my other hand and tucking it into my back pocket.
“I know your type,” I continue, circling her at an easy pace while she turns helplessly to follow me. “And I’m not the only one. This whole town knows you. The pretty little princess who feeds on attention like oxygen. You like humiliating people who have less than you. You like knowing everyone watches when you speak. You like the power of making someone smaller.” I circle behind her and lower my lips near her ear, forcing her to listen for every word. “You don’t just enjoy cruelty, Sierra. You perform it.”
A broken sound leaves her throat. Whether it’s denial or fear, I don’t care enough to decide. When I step back in front of her again, I take my time looking her over, letting the silence work harder than words.
“And now,” I tilt my head as a crooked smile pulls at my mouth, “you’re finally getting exactly what you always wanted.” My hand lifts, fingers brushing the chain above her wrists before giving it a sharp tug that makes her gasp as her body jolts upward.
“All eyes on you.” The smile stays hidden beneath the balaclava while amusement slips easily through every word. “Enjoy,” I murmur. “You spent years craving attention, kitten. Tonight you drown in it.”
“But I didn’t kill him!” she screams, voice shredding itself on the way out. “Vince did it. He was driving!”
The sound that leaves me starts low in my chest before it breaks free entirely. Laughter spills through the room in sharp bursts, then in full, ugly waves I don’t bother containing.
God, listen to her. Even now, hanging naked in chains with blood on her skin and fear dripping off every breath, she reaches for the same instinct that built her whole life.
Pass the blame.
Save herself.
It amuses me more than it should.
“I bullied Reed, yes,” she sobs, words tumbling over each other. “But we were young. We were kids. I didn’t want him to die.”
“You fucking bitch!” Cain is on her before the echo dies.
His palm cracks across her face so hard her head is thrown sideways, the chain above her screaming in protest as her body swings with the force of it.
Her lip splits instantly. A thin line of dark red spills over her mouth, slides down her chin, then falls in slow drops to the concrete below.
Beautiful.
“He burned alive, you worthless cunt!” Cain roars in her face, one hand locked around her throat, hauling her higher on the chain. Her feet scrape uselessly against the floor while her eyes blow wide, her entire body jerking violently against the restraints as she chokes beneath the pressure of his hand.
“You could’ve called the fire brigade! The police! An ambulance!” Each word comes rougher than the last, years of grief sharpened into rage. “You could’ve tried to help him!” He squeezes harder, forcing Sierra’s mouth open in a silent choke. “But no,” he spits. “You ran. Ran like the selfish little whore you’ve always been.”
I stay where I am, hands loose at my sides, and watch the scene like a favorite film I’ve waited years to rewatch.
“Did you enjoy hurting my little brother?” Cain snarls. “Your turn now.”
