Page 139 of His Darkest Obsession
I lean down, close enough that my lips brush his ear. "No one is coming to fucking help you," I whisper. "You die here. You die now."
That's when all hope fades from Bennet's eyes. It happens in an instant. I know that moment all too well. It's the moment when a man realizes death is coming and there's nothing that he can do to stop it.
"Please..." he sobs, snot and tears mixing with the blood already leaking from his nose. "I'll do anything..."
His words are just noise now. Meaningless vibrations in the air.
I release his throat and he gasps, probably thinking I'm showing mercy.
I'm not.
My fist connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack. Then another to his cheek. And another.
Blood sprays across my knuckles, warm and slick. It spatters my shirt, my face. I don't care.
The rage inside me is a living thing now, clawing its way out through my fists. Every impact feels righteous. Every broken bone beneath my hands feels like justice.
I think of her scars. The ones she carved into her own flesh because of what this monster did. Because of what he made her do.
Not just in this office, but at the hospital weeks later.
When he forced her to erase the evidence of his crime.
When he slid that NDA in front of her and made her sign away her voice so that he might keep himself safe.
My vision blurs as I keep hitting him. Bone crunches beneath my knuckles. Sirens continue to wail. I don't stop. I can't stop. I won't stop.
Fists fall like a rain of hammers. His nose collapses under my knuckles. Teeth scatter across the desk. The coppery scent of blood fills the air. Slowly, the sound shifts from punching something hard to a sickening squelching noise as I pulverize his bone against my fist.
He's not screaming anymore.
But I'm not done.
"YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM HER," I bellow, even though he can't hear me anymore
"HER DIGNITY."
"HER FAMILY."
"HER FUCKING NAME."
I keep going until there's nothing recognizable left to Grant Bennet.
Just a red, bloody ruin where a face used to be.
43
INDIGO
"What doyou mean he went to do something stupid?" My voice comes out high and thin with panic.
Roma just stares at me for a long moment, his jaw working like he's chewing on what to say. Then he turns away, grabbing the remote control from the coffee table.
"You'll find out soon enough," he says grimly, turning on the television and switching to a news channel.
The screen flickers to life showing a helicopter view of a building downtown. Red and blue lights flash around its perimeter. The crawl at the bottom of the screen reads: "BREAKING NEWS: REPORTS OF DISTURBANCE AT CITY HALL."
Dread pools in my gut, thick and cold.
