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“Did you do that?” Charlotte asks.
“He did worse. This is just what is left to remind me of my time with him,” Avani says, standing and walking back to me. She turns so I can see her back, but I reach for her dress and zip it back up. She walks over to Marcus and spits in his face. “I hate you.”
“I hate you as well,” Marcus replies.
“Charlotte, you have a choice,” I say. Her eyes flick between her father and me. “I either kill you or your father.”
Avani smiles next to me.
“W-what do you m-mean?” Her eyes grow wide, her tears drying on her cheeks. “You can’t kill us. Why would you kill us?” she screams.
Avani reaches for the knife on the floor and picks it up before she steps over to Marcus. “Turn around,” she orders him.
“Fuck you, whore,” he spits.
She slashes across his chest.
The door behind us is kicked open, but I was expecting that to occur. The boys turn, and within seconds, the room is cleared. A few screams rip through the air, and I know the Hunters have just killed the guards with a few quick flicks of a knife.
“Turn around,” Avani tells Marcus again.
He does, reluctantly.
She wastes no time as she steps closer and starts cutting his skin. The room is silent, and I’ve got to give it to him, he isn’t screaming as she slices into his flesh.
“Make her stop, Grayson! Make her stop,” Charlotte begs.
“No can do.” I smile.
“What did I ever see in you?” she asks, shaking her head.
“Who the fuck knows?” I wink and look back to Avani. I watch as she continues carving. Marcus starts swearing as I walk up to her, placing my hand on her shoulder gently, I give her a squeeze. When I see what she wrote, I smile.
I’m a rapist.
She steps back, holding the knife tight as he collapses to the floor.
“Five minutes,” Zuko says.
I look at her, reach for her chin, and turn her to face me. “What do you want?” I ask her.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want him dead?”
She looks at him on his knees, the words bleeding all over his back before she nods her head.
“Do you want to do it?” I reach for her hand, the same one holding the knife.
“I think I do,” she admits.
“Then do it,” I tell her, letting go of her hand.
“No, no! Don’t do it. He’s my father,” Charlotte screams.
“Do it,” I tell her again.
Time is ticking.
