Page 75 of Reckoning

I grab his left hand, raising it up and one by one I snap each digit, rendering them useless.

When I’ve done all ten, I place each hand flat on the ground and stamp on it hard enough to break his wrists. It’s not just that they broke her finger, but these hands, they caused her pain, they inflicted that on her, so they’ll pay the price.

He howls, curling up as best he can.

“You touched what wasn’t yours.” I state.

He mumbles something incoherent, nonsense words. I’ve a good mind to cut out his tongue but I think that might be a step to far for Sofia to witness just yet.

“Little Devil,” I murmur, turning to look at her. She’s still stood, staring at the scene in front of her and then it’s like she forces herself to move.

She crosses the room, grabs a knife, and clutches it like it’ll give her deliverance.

I can feel the way the room reacts, the way all the men seem to back off just a little. Maybe they can sense how on edge she is.

She draws in a deep breath then winces as that stench no doubt fills her lungs.

“You got this.” I say quietly. I want her to make this move, to take the step that an ignorant man would argue will blacken her soul, but to me, I know it’ll set her free.

She takes a step. Then another.

I tilt my head, see that firm mask on her face, wondering where she’s going to strike. Will she take his eyes? Will she cut his flesh the way they cut hers? Or will she choose to stab?

Her jaw tenses, she’s barely a metre from him and he looks up, whimpering like he deserves mercy.

She blinks, staring down like he’s a ghost, like none of this is real. Her hand is shaking. The knife is sending flashes of light around the room.

She gasps, takes a step back, then another and she crumbles, before I can move to grab her.

Sofia

This wasn’t supposed to be like this, I wasn’t supposed to react like this.

Something latches onto my heart, clamping around it so tightly I can’t think. My throat closes up. My body seizes as one memory after another hits me.

I try to speak. I try to fight it. To be strong, to be what Koen and everyone else here expects of me. Afterall, didn’t he say this was a gift? That this man here was a sacrifice?

Only, it doesn’t feel like he’s the one on the verge of death.

I blink and I see those eyes, his eyes, except we’re not here, in this room. He’s not the one restrained, he’s not the one covered in blood, covered in bruises.

A noise escapes me. Something broken. Something animalistic.

And then hands scoop me up, they carry me away, even though I wasn’t aware I’d collapsed.

I shut my eyes, I bury myself into his chest, knowing that it’s Koen, he’s the one who has me right now, that once more he’s become my saviour. Only I don’t want to be saved. I don’t want to be rescued. I want to do it myself. Why can’t I do this? Why, even now, can I not just take my revenge when I so desperately need it?

“You’re okay.” He murmurs softly. “I’ve got you.”

I don’t reply beyond another pathetic, broken wail. What his men must think I don’t know but those words still whisper in my head. That I’m weak. Pathetic. Just as broken as the day Otto forced me to marry him, and every horrific day after.

Koen puts me down. Sits me down. My breath is still coming too fast. My hands are still clinging to his t-shirt. He’s knelt, staring up at me but when I force myself to meet his gaze I don’t see disappointment, I don’t see derision.

“This is my fault.” He says quietly. “This was too soon.”

“No,” I whisper. “I wanted to, I needed to.” I shake my head, trying to clear my muddled thoughts but it makes no difference. The panic is still there. My fear has me in a chokehold.

“Breathe with me, in and out.”

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