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I’m unquestionably calm. I raise my hand to see if I’m still trembling and I’m completely steady.
The stench of something dying slowly makes me want to throw up.
“Help me.”
The man’s voice reaches my ears.
I stare into Roger Thompson’s face.
The man who was supposed to be dead.
I don’t know if I can call him a man anymore. He’s been tortured, picked apart, hardly recognizable.
He evokes no emotion from me.
But everything makes sense now. This is what has been holding Kayne back from me.
I know what I must do.
I knew what I had to do the minute I saw Roger Thompson’s face on the monitor in Kayne’s private room. It’s a strategic move on my part. I have to remove an obstacle that is keeping my husband from coming back to me.
I take out the gun I had slipped into the back of my jeans and under my hoodie.
I raise my hand. I’m still steady. I aim it directly at his head.
I don’t even blink when I pull the trigger. It’s the first time I ever killed anyone. But once it’s done I want to fall to my knees and just cry until I can’t feel anything, because what I saw was the extent of Kayne’s regression. That is what kills me.
But the sound of my gun going off is followed by Kayne’s roar. He charges at me and disarms me in a flash. He slams me against the steel bars of the cell he had been keeping Roger Thompson.
“He wasn’t ready to die. I still needed to pick his flesh off his body. Break his knees. Fuck,” he shouts at me. He releases me, then drags his hands through his hair. His back toward me.
“He needed to suffer more for what he did to you and you put him out of his fucking misery.”
“I didn’t kill him to put him out of his misery, Kayne. I killed him to put you out of yours,” I say angrily. “You lied to me, Kayne. You told me he was dead. It was the only way I went to bed peacefully. But you were keeping him here for what? Weeks?”
“He hurt you, Sophia.” His voice is cold, distant, littered with hatred, unrecognizable.
“And you saved me, Kayne.” I go to him and I put my hand on his chest. “You saved me when I thought you had killed him the first time… but this?”
“I wasn’t ready for him to die,” he says, his jaw clenching. “He needed to suffer more. A lot more. I wasn’t fucking ready for him to die without fully paying for what he had done to you.”
I drop my hand from his chest.
“How much longer were you going to keep him alive so you could torture him? Another day? Another week? When was it ever going to be enough? Look at me Kayne, I’m here.” I place my hand on my heart.
“You didn’t only save me physically. You saved my soul, Kayne. My mind. My love for you was enough to heal me. When you took away all the scars he left on my body and replaced them with yours, you made me whole again,” I pause overcome with sadness.
“I love you fiercely, possessively, wildly, savagely, sweetly. That love I feel for you cured me. It was all that mattered.” I take a deep breath to stop myself from crying before I continue.
“I thought… I thought your love for me would be enough to save you too. I gave you everything, Kayne. I’ll give you everything. My last breath. But you won’t ever love me the way I love you.”
“I wasn’t ready to let him die.” I’ve never seen Kayne this furious at me before. As if there’s just a tiny thread stopping him from strangling me.
“You can’t even hear what I’m saying to you. But one thing is clear. I picked you over Roger Thompson. You picked vengeance over me.”
I turn to leave before I start crying like a weak fucking idiot.
By the time I get to my car, my face is flooded with tears. I hastily wipe them away, blinking repeatedly to clear my vision.
