Page 144 of Allegiant

Samson nods, stepping forward. With a flick of his fingers, he rips the tape from the man’s mouth. He winces, but that’s the only show of pain he gives. He cocks his head at me in interest. “What little birdie have you brought me to play with today?”

Samson growls, grabbing him by his throat. He squeezes so hard I hear something pop. “If you so much as look at him wrong, I’ll remove your eyeballs. Slowly.”

Part of me thinks I should protest at that, but really, I don’t like the way he’s looking at me either. Or the disgusting tone he used when he spoke.

Is this how he treated Adam before killing him?

The man coughs when Samson finally releases him. I twitch my fingers at my side, quietly begging Samson to return to me. He notices the tiny flicker of movement, coming back to my side and tucking me under his arm.

With Samson beside me, I find my courage. “Why?”

His killer smirks. “Why what?”

“Please let me kill him,” Dalton mutters under his breath. “He’s been like this for fucking days already.”

The Buckinghams have had him down here for days? The thought oddly warms me. They removed him from the streets, but didn’t harm him.

Because of me. Because they wanted me to have a choice.

I already know what I’m going to choose—have since the second Matthias showed us the first file.

Being down here isn’t for Adam’s killer. It’s for me. For closure.

“Why Adam?” I demand. “Why him?”

“Why anyone?” the man drawls. “Who knows what causes an obsession? Or what drives it to such destructive ends? You should ask that man with his arm around you. Maybe he’s the one you should be worrying about.”

Samson growls, taking a step forward, but I stop him with a hand on his chest. “No. I don’t need to. Samson will never hurt me. He loves me.”

I realize then that this is a waste of time. Adam’s killer isn’t going to give me what I need.

But maybe his death will.

My hands tremble as I walk right up to him. I don’t stop until our shoes brush. “Adam Willis was my best friend. A son. A brother. A talented artist. You killed him.”

“Adam.” He draws out the single word like a taunt. “Oh, yes. He was a favorite of mine.”

His head snaps back, and I stare at my hand in surprise. I have no recollection of hitting him, but the stinging of my palm tells me that’s exactly what’s happened.

Large arms encircle my waist as lips press to my neck. “He’s not worth it, Row. Don’t lower yourself to his level. It only gives him satisfaction.”

The killer spits out a mouthful of blood and offers me a sinister grin. Samson is right; I’m giving him exactly what he wants.

No more.

I step back, Samson moving with me. “Dalton?”

He’s at my side in an instant. “Yes?”

“You’re already at his level, right?”

Dalton gives me a wicked smirk as he pulls out his dagger. “For years and years.”

I nod. Just once. “Then teach him all you know.”

Adam’s killer doesn’t start screaming until we’re in the corridor. I listen for a few moments before turning my back on the room.

The Firm are right. Some people deserve to die.