Page 9 of Reckoning

As I turn back to Danny, my rage seems to take a new form. He kept this video like it was some sort of trophy. Did he get off watching it? Did get off seeing the way they’d hurt her?

“You piece of shit.” I snarl, grabbing Danny by the throat once more. I’d planned to slit his throat, to watch him bleed out, but that feels far too impersonal now.

My hands wrap around his neck, he kicks out, pleads for mercy as if he deserves any. And I’ll admit I enjoy the feeling of his fighting, of his heart beating furiously under my grip, of his body slowly dying beneath my grasp.

When he finally does slump, we cut him down, before throwing him in the incinerator. If there’s one thing I did learn from Darius, it’s that. You clean up your crimes in a way that they can’t come back to bite you in the arse.

Colt sticks by my side. I still have the phone in my pocket and it feels like a ten ton weight - I want to go through it myself, see whoever else is on there, what more evidence there is.

All the faces were new. Men we didn’t know. I’ll print them off, add them to the board. They’re on my kill list now and I won’t stop until every one has been eliminated.

Sofia

“Daddy?”

My eyes dart about the room, from my father sat behind his colossal desk to the stranger, leaning over it, getting right in his face. Maybe I should have turned and run at the sound of raised voices but I guess I’m not that smart.

They both turn and while my father’s face is one of shock and annoyance, the other man’s twists in a smile.

He’s taller than my father, his face is harsher, his eyebrows seems to point down like he’s some sort of picture book villain.

“This is your daughter?” He asks.

“Yes.” My father says quickly, springing to his feet, grabbing me roughly enough that I yelp.

“You’re hurting me.” I say indignantly.

Either he doesn’t listen or he doesn’t care because he pulls me further behind him as if there’s some sort of threat.

The other man lets out a low laugh. “You know we don’t have any interest in little girls.” He murmurs.

“I’m not little.” I pout. “I’m six.”

My father hushes me, but the man laughs more, squatting down, like he wants to get a better look at me. “Six?” He repeats. “Then you’re practically a grown up.”

“That’s right.” I state, though it feels like he’s mocking me and I don’t know why.

“Come here,” He orders.

Maybe my sense of self-preservation kicks in, maybe my sense of survival does but a voice in my head screams that his man is dangerous and I shrink back, into my father’s leg, clutching his trouser for good measure.

The man looks from me to my father and I can tell he’s getting annoyed.

“Horace,” He says in a tone that’s more than threatening and to my absolute horror he leans forward, yanking me from his protection.

I cry out, at least I try to, but as he lifts me up, as he hauls me off the ground all my fear turns to paralysis.

“You look just like your mother.” He states. “Same face, same eyes, only your nose is your father’s.”

“Mummy is in heaven.” I reply.

His lips quirk like it’s some sort of joke. “Would you like to join her?” He asks.

My eyes widen, is that possible? I’ve never even seen her, I don’t even remember her. She went to heaven when I was still a baby but I’ve stared at the framed picture on my shelf, imagining what she would sound like, what her laugh would sound like, how tightly she’d squeeze me when she gave me a hug.

“Daddy?” I gasp, “Please can I, please?”

The man chuckles more and as I look at my father I can see a sickening sweat appear on his brow. “That’s enough.” He snaps moving to grab me but the man is quicker. Far quicker.

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