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Gideon finally nodded slowly. “No vivisection for you, Scott. You did what the others haven’t managed. You gave me something useful.”
Relief mixed with distrust filled Scott’s eyes.
There was nothing Gideon could do about the distrust, because he couldn’t explain that he would indeed die.
“I have to be going now.” Gideon tossed the scalpel aside as he rose to his feet and glanced around the room.
The small pillow on the couch caught his eye. Moving to it, Gideon picked it up before returning to his victim.
“Here. I’ll lift your head so you don’t choke on your own snot.” He snorted. “That wouldn’t exactly be a comfortable way to die.”
“Gideon.”
He paused as he stared down at the helpless, vulnerable monster that had once filled his nightmares, but would no more.
“Yes, Scott?” Arching his brow mockingly he stared down at the tearstained face as he remembered the sneers that had once covered it.
“You’re after the girl, aren’t you?” Scott’s lips quivered as more tears fell. “You’re after Fawn.”
Gideon bared the sharp incisors in warning. “I’m after all of them, Scott. Every last one of them. And I’ll have what’s owed me. Never doubt that.”
“I’ve done everything to keep them hidden.” He swallowed tightly. “To help you. I didn’t know they would use the vivisections on you. I wasn’t there the day the decision was made. They didn’t warn me in time.”
“No one warned me either.” Gideon shrugged as he moved once again to place the pillow beneath his head.
“Gideon, if they find her first . . .” Scott swallowed tightly. “They’ll find out what I’ve hidden all these years.”
“And that is?” He really didn’t care.
“She’s special,” he whispered. “The last time I tested her blood there were additional hormones in it. Changes that didn’t make sense. Changes the scientists would have killed her to understand—and still will.”
“And why did you care?” Gideon lifted Scott’s head to adjust the pillow beneath it.
Crouched behind him, he pushed the pillow in place.
“She’s my daughter,” Scott whispered.
“Liar!” Gideon snarled at the same moment he twisted Scott’s head with brutal force.
The sound of Scott’s spine cracking clashed with the scent of instant death as Gideon closed his eyes and fought back the shock, and the regret, he insisted on feeling.
He refused to even consider Scott’s final words because they didn’t matter. Nothing could make him more determined to exact his vengeance, not even the paternity of his prey.
He should be able to kill easily, he thought instead, without remorse or guilt. He should have never felt the need to keep his promise for mercy when he himself had never been given mercy.
He settled Scott’s head upon the pillow and stared down at the limp form. Gently, he closed the empty eyes that still reflected the abject relief he had been feeling at the moment of his death.
Gideon refused to acknowledge that glimmer of resignation he had heard in the other man’s voice, though. As though he had known he would die in that second.
“I couldn’t allow you to live,” he said softly as he stared down at the lifeless face of the man that had tortured him for so many years. “Monsters can’t be allowed to live past their usefulness, Scott. And your usefulness ran out.”
Then his gaze was caught by that damned family photo.
Son of a bitch. He didn’t want to see that. He didn’t want to see nor consider the family that would return later.
Yet his conscience refused to allow him to do otherwise.
He re-dressed his victim before picking him up and carrying him to the couch where he laid him against the cushions as though the man were napping rather than entering hell. Then he cleaned the floor of the urine and excrement, disposed of the rags he used and carefully returned the room to its pristine condition.
