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I strode toward Clayson, relishing the anguish twisting his face as I gripped the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. A fresh gush of blood spilled from the wound as he let out a strangled cry, his body trembling.

Alexi’s chair scraped against the floor as he shot to his feet, his face ashen. “Please! We will do anything. If you let us go we will give you anything.”

My head tilted to the side as I looked at Alexi while wiping the dagger clean on Clayson’s tunic. “I like it when you beg. Do it again.”

“ Please ,” Alexi whimpered, falling to his knees.

They were truly pathetic.

Already begging before I had even begun.

I would truly never understand how they were seen as the stronger sex when they reeked of fear at the slightest threat of pain. They would not last a day as a woman in this world.

Alexi’s body trembled as I stepped around the desk toward him, his eyes wide with terror.

“Please,” he pleaded again, his voice cracking. “I’ll do anything. Just let me go.”

I circled around him, letting my fingers trail across his shoulders. He flinched at my touch.

“Anything?” I purred, leaning close to his ear. “Would you take his place? Suffer in his stead?”

Alexi’s mouth opened and closed, words failing him as he glanced at Clayson who was gritting his teeth, trying to stem the blood flowing from his wound.

“I thought not,” I scoffed, straightening my back and rolling my shoulders.

“Loyalty among scum like you only goes so far.” I leaned against the corner of the desk, one hand wrapping around the edge as Alexi pushed from his knees back into his chair.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what drives men like you.

Is it power? Greed?” I tapped the dagger against my chin.

“Or perhaps it is simply the thrill of dominating those you see as weak.”

I let out a long dramatic sigh, pushing from the desk and letting the anticipation build as Clayson’s eyes darted around the room, desperately seeking an escape. But there was none. Andrues guarded the only exit, his face an impassive mask.

“You know, I thought a lot about this moment—how I would torture you,” I said, walking to the fireplace crackling in the corner and picking up the metal poker, dipping it into the flames. “But I realize now, sitting here with you . . . you aren’t worth my energy, my time.”

The metal tip of the instrument grew hot against the flames, glowing as the fire kissed its surface and Alexi’s eyes widened as I turned to him.

“So, I will not torture you, which is a small mercy, if you ask me. But I will kill you, painfully.”

In three steps, I was across the room. And in the next breath, the hot metal was ripping through Alexi’s abdomen, skewering him to the chair as a violent scream erupted from his lungs.

Clayson ran for the door and I whirled around to stop him. My fingers snatched the collar of his tunic and yanked him back against me as Andrues stepped in front of the opening, a low snarl slipping from his mouth.

“I told you that you would never see my true face again,” I hissed, the sharp edge of my blade digging into Clayson’s throat as I pressed my lips against his ear and dropped my voice to a whisper. “You should have made sure I never left that room alive.”

A gurgle sounded as my blade tore into his neck and cut through skin. Blood splattered onto Andrues’s face but he did not flinch, did not move to wipe it off as crimson flowed onto my hands still wrapped around the blade at Clayson’s throat.

Clayson’s hands slowly rose to his neck, his fingers clawing at the fatal wound as he gasped for breath that wouldn’t come.

I ripped my dagger the rest of the way out in one swift motion and plunged it into the base of his neck between his vertebrae. Blood coated my own face as I twisted the dagger and yanked it out, internally severing his head from his body.

He hit the floor with a loud thud as I turned back to face Alexi who was barely clinging onto life, blood pouring from his mouth as his head slumped against his chest.

My feet were moving before I could command them too, stalking toward him as a growl ripped from my lungs. A single one of my fingers tapped the end of the metal nailing him to the chair, and another agonizing shriek fell from his lips.

I slid my bloody dagger under his chin, forcing him up to look at me. “Painful isn’t it?”

A whimper was the only response I received.

A tear fell from my chin and I watched it drop onto him, the grimy fabric of his clothes soaking it up as my hand shot to my cheek. I didn’t know when I’d started crying—when the dam had opened—but I let the tears come.

Let them come as a scream burst from my lungs and my dagger plunged into his chest.

Another wail tore from the depths of my soul as I sunk the blade into him over and over and over again, ripping through muscle and flesh and bone until his blood was dripping from every inch of me.

Every stab, every puncture, was for me.

Was for the women he and his friends had accosted, had assaulted, had raped.

This was for us.

This was for the part of us they stole that we would eternally mourn. The part of us that would forever wonder if it was our fault. The part of us that would be haunted by the shame of not fighting harder.

This was for us .

Finally, I stopped, my skin shifting back to my own, my lungs gasping for air as I turned to look at Andrues, blood still strewn across his features. I could feel it, the frenzied expression on my face as he pushed from the wall and walked toward me.

He slipped one hand into mine, pulling the dagger from between my fingers and letting it clatter to the floor as his other hand slipped around the back of my neck.

“Tell me, Ataliia,” he whispered, his eyes searching mine. “How does the blood of your demons taste?”

A crimson grin spread across my lips as the tears flowed steadily down my cheeks.

“Sweet.”