“Don’t speak to my wife,” Henry snaps. His voice carries the same menace as the scrape of Drained claws over the city gates. “Speak to me.”
Rafe winces.
It feels good to see him afraid.
Henry holds the poker out to me. “Do you want a turn?”
I’m surprised that I don’t. For so long, all I wanted to do was beat him to a bloody pulp for making me kill the person I loved most in the world. But now that he has no power left, I just want to stop giving him my energy and attention.
He has to die, not just for what he’s done, but because men like him will always find a way to turn a second chance into an opportunity to be so much worse. Much as I might like to watch him suffer being powerless in the interim, it wouldn’t be worth the dread I’d live with knowing he’s still breathing.
“No. I just want him gone,” I say.
Henry smiles wickedly. “Gladly.” He yanks Rafe to his feet, ignoring the mayor’s protests. “Rafe, go stand on the railing.”
Rafe stumbles forward to the railing. It’s satisfying watching him try to resist and fail. He struggles to climb up onto the narrow wooden banister, his battered body protesting the movements. At least this one is flat.
The balcony railing he made Aidia and me stand on was curved. My feet were so cramped from gripping the stone, it took almost two weeks of foot massages for the knots to finally release.
I shiver at the memory of the time I was bedridden and grieving.
Rafe finally gets himself upright.
Henry steps up behind me. He’s close enough that I can feel his body heat, but he doesn’t touch me. “You just say when, lovely.”
We stand there in silence for a few long minutes.
“You know what? I don’t think I can do it. I don’t know if I have it in me.” I step up to the railing beside Rafe, and he looks at me hopefully. “You know what might change my mind?” I hold his gaze and smile. “Begging. You remember how long you made me beg? You like begging, right?”
And he does. Rafe begs in the most pathetic way. I thought it would feel more satisfying, but the fact is, the only thing he loves in this world is himself, and that just doesn’t have the same impact.
“Enough,” I sigh. I look at Henry and nod. “I’m good.”
Rafe tries to crane his head to look at us, but he wobbles and nearly falls.
“Rafe, jump to the first floor face-first,” Henry says.
And then he does.
I don’t watch him fall, but I hear him land with a sickening thud. For a moment, I’m right back on the balcony, staring down at my sister.
I feel sick and also free.
Rafe Mattingly is dead, and he can never compel me to hurt someone I love again.
But my husband can.
Henry tilts my chin up. “I know you want to punish me.”
Of course I want to punish him. He made me feel so stupid and blind. It’s hard to describe this kind of betrayal. I thought he understood me in some innate way, but what if he was just using his magic to sense things about my emotional state? What if he doesn’t know me at all?
I thought he was someone who understood how to help me put my armor on. But what if that only applies to people who aren’t him?
These are all things I wish I could say, but they’re trapped in my throat, and I’d rather choke than let him hurt me again.
“Here’s a way to do it.” He hands me a small metal object.
“What is this?” I turn it over in my hand.
