Page 115 of Dark Night of the Soul

I smirked. Indeed.

“They always warn you about becoming the monster,” I said.

Kincade looked at me. Waiting.

“But there’s a verse they forget.”

“What’s that?”

“An eye for an eye,” I said. “He took more than one.”

Silence. Then he gave one sharp nod.

“Then we make sure the debt is paid,” he said.

We waited until late afternoon. Nearing dusk, the time the doctor would be leaving for the day.

I checked the weight of the knife where it rested against my body. Familiar, balanced, right where I’d put it. He’d sharpened it to the point it could shave the hair off his arm.

I could have chosen something louder. Faster. Distant.

I didn’t.

This wasn’t about efficiency. It was about proximity. About looking him in the eye and making sure he understood why this was happening.

Vormund didn’t deserve a quick end.

He deserved to know who had come for him.

The charge in my pack had come from a back-alley shop that sold curiosities no sane person should own. A place you didn’t find unless someone led you there.

I’d raised a brow at Kincade.

He hadn’t been concerned in the slightest.

“Security protocols changed this morning,” Kincade said on the way there. “Silas flagged it. Selective clearance. Facial recognition override tied to Vormund himself.”

“So, he’s expecting me,” I said.

“He’s going to let you walk in.”

“Good.”

He parked the car at the back of the lot, nearest the exit for a quick, clean getaway. Then we entered the facility together.

No alarms. No chaos. Merely another late afternoon in an industrial building no one looked at twice.

Kincade stayed a step behind me as we moved through the corridors. Close enough that I felt him, far enough that he disappeared into peripheral vision. Where he wanted to be. Where Vormund wouldn’t look.

We took the stairs to the second floor.

The office door was unlocked.

Vormund stood behind his desk when I opened the door and stepped inside, hands braced against its polished surface looking at his laptop. His dark eyes flicked to me, sharp with interest, not fear. He looked… pleased.

“Hello again, Miss Walker,” he said, like he was greeting an old colleague. “I wondered when you’d arrive. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I bet you have,” I said.