Page 244 of The Monster and the Masochist

“Always,” Cass replied easily, and with that, Ryan left, and we were finally alone with the man who had stolen so many years from me.

Samwell was still screaming, but the sound was so muffled and pathetic that it barely registered.

Cass turned to look at me with a warm, peaceful smile curled on her blood-red lips.

“So, baby. What’s it going to be? Do you want to kill him, or do you want me to do it?”

With a shaky breath, I stepped forward until I was so close I could reach out and touch him.

I could almost make out what he was saying now.

There were a lot of muffled ‘pleases,’ a whimpered ‘don’t do this,’ followed by a bunch of ‘I’m sorry’s.’

But I didn’t want to hear it. In his massive heels, he towered over me, and as I looked up at him, I remembered all the times I’d been forced to look up at him in that god-forsaken office.

But we weren’t in the office anymore.

And I was no longer a small child who couldn’t defend herself.

But he hadn’t changed.

He was the same.

He would always be the same, and as long as he was alive, I knew he would do what he’d done to me again and again.

Like a sick dog, he needed to be put down.

He was still begging when I made my final decision.

“Theodora?” My name was muffled through his gag.

Even stunted, hearing my name on his lips made me rage.

There was so much I wanted to say to him. I wanted to scream at him and tell him that he’d ruined me. That what he’d done to me had absolutely destroyed me to the point I’d wished for death.

That it had taken me nearly twenty years to even begin to heal from what he’d put me through.

I wanted to tell him that I hated him, and I hoped his soul burned in that fucking hell he’d always told me I was destined for.

But… even as the words ravaged my mind, I knew there was no point. Telling him these things wouldn’t make him repent. He would feel no remorse. It would be a waste of breath, and I was done wasting parts of myself on a man who didn’t even deserve to kiss the ground I walked on.

So instead, I looked him directly in the eyes and smiled.

“Father Samwell…” I addressed him softly. And there it was. What I wanted to see. A small flicker of hope.

Hope that I wouldn’t do it.

Hope that I’d be the bigger person and show him the mercy he’d never shown me.

But no.

I wouldn’t show mercy.

Not for this.

Dropping my gaze down to his wobbling ankles, I felt my smile widen, and I glanced back up at him one last time.

“Father Samwell,” I repeated, unable to wipe the unhinged smile that seemed to now be a permanent fixture on my face.