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Lewis takes a little longer than most before he comes around, and I’m already sipping a beer and lounging in a folding chair as I read Laws of Human Nature.

Roberto Green writes about narcissists as if they are predators hiding in crowds. Charming, patient, and empty. I keep turning the pages, taking it all in, fascinated by his insight into the monsters I chase, but also how well he understands me.

The thing that I find particularly interesting is the take on vigilantism.

According to him, I view myself as separate from the criminals I hunt. The power I wield feels righteous. This is true. What the author has wrong is that he seems to think that the line I’ve drawn will dissolve over time. That the thrill will intoxicate me to the point of unraveling and that I will eventually be caught. This is false. I am always perfectly balanced.

“Hey!”

“Hey!” More insistent this time.

Bang.

“Hey, let me out of here!”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“I can see you. You promised to free me. Let me out of here. I gave you what you wanted.”

I stand, snap the book shut, and toss it on the chair.

“You’re right, I did, didn’t I?”

Walking toward the little window that Lewis has his face pressed up against, I tilt my head and sigh.

“Would you like some music?”

“What the fuck does that mean? Just let me out.”

“Well, I’d like some music,” I say, grabbing the remote off the wall. I push play, and Mozart’s Requiem pours through the speakers.

“Welcome to the final stage, Frank Lewis. You are absolved.”

With a smile ghosting my lips, I hit the start button, and the cremation chamber roars to life. Confusion quickly becomes terror as Lewis’s screams turn high-pitched. His fists punch against the small viewing window. I turn up the music to match the dramatic moment.

Motionless before the dull orange glow, I listen to the symphony of sounds echoing through the room. There is no rage left in me, no excitement…only calm. Fire erases things. Names. Faces. But most of all, it eliminates regrets.

I watch Mr. Lewis try to fight off the flames like they are a combatant he can outwit, and I wonder if this is what hell looks like. Not the screaming torment, but the quiet acceptance as something human slowly vanishes forever.

When Frank Lewis stops screaming, I recognize that this is the only time I ever feel completely in control—when I find the kind of peace that others search for in holy spaces.

It is only now that I feel the weight of my duty to balance the scales. In that weight, there is a terrifyingly pure absolution.

CHAPTER SIX

EMILY

True to his word, Alden has his secretary call to confirm our appointment and give further instructions. My hands sweat as I take the little security tag.

I can’t believe the guard has me down on his sheet. He never called to have anyone confirm that I’m allowed in the building. It may seem stupid, but it feels like stepping into a different world. If only for a glimpse, I’m part of a society that otherwise ignores me.

The ride up the elevator is my own private hell as I worry that Alden will see how nervous I am, or that I want this too much, or…does my breath stink?

Did I put on deodorant?

I look down as if I forgot to put on clothes. I somehow feel naked.

Before I can reduce myself to a puddle of worry, the fast-moving box stops on the top floor. I grab the railing and groan as my stomach flips.