Page 71 of When Sinners Fear

I look to all of them in turn – Dante, who’s simmering with energy, like it’s bouncing inside him, eager to get out and cause havoc. Both he and Abel were there when we were rescued. Abel’s impression was much more permanent, and even with his genial appearance on the plane, I can see the snake he is underneath the suit. Dante’s danger is easier to read – he doesn’t hide it, and I appreciate that. The change in Mariana is frightening, though. She’s so beautiful, so put together. She helped rescue me – comforted me – yet she looks cold and as deadly as her brothers. She must know. She’s part of the family. So how does she reconcile what they do? How can she be so kind to me yet be content with the business she works in?

The questions start to close in, pressuring and scaring me and making my body go into overdrive. My adrenal cortex and increased heart rate give me every opportunity to run. That’s what I’m being told on a biological level – run. Fight or flight.

I look through the silhouettes of the family to Reed, on his knees before them all. His eyes are cold – like he knows this is his fate. That this was coming, and it’s a foregone conclusion.

“You broke Elias’ neck. You stole from us. You fucked with our business. And after all of that, you took one of us,” Abel says. He cocks his head to the side, examining Reed for his reaction. “I hope it was worth it.”

He moves so quickly it is over before I track it all, but when he stands back, a new strike of red decorates his chest, bleeding through his shirt. If there’s any credit to give, Reed doesn’t fight it.

Abel’s back in the circle next to his siblings, like he didn’t just slash his chest with a blade. He hands the blade to Shaw, the youngest of Knox’s brothers. He seems quiet next to his older brothers, but he’s vicious with the weapon, lunging and stabbing the knife deep into his thigh, then stomach. Reed grits his teeth and groans before he falls back on his heels.

They continue, all passing the knife to the next, taking their own piece of flesh, slicing and piercing his skin. The red paints a vision of hatred and violence. The only one who doesn't inflict vengeance is a big blond man. He stays back behind Mariana, unfazed, as he watches the entrance to the building.

Watching Knox walk back to me, his hand covered in blood, frightens me. There’s no smile on his face. No warmth at all. He takes my hand and slips the blade into it, looking me dead in the eye. I can hear the words he said to me a few days ago, and my fingers grip around the handle.

Reed looks up directly at me, attempting to haul himself to his knees. “You surprise me, Knox. After all your protests that she meant nothing to you, here she is at the end.” He leans up on his good hand, but Dante moves in and kicks him to the ground again, hammering his boot into his stomach. It only causes some hysteric, low laughter to fall from Reed’s mouth.

He pulls himself up again and finds my eyes. “Look at you, nearly new again. But we both know you’ll never be whole again. Have you forgotten what he did to you?” Looking into his eyes, I see something else there for the first time – pity, care even. “They don’t understand anything but violence, Peyton. Remember that.”

“You dare speak to her? After what you did?” Knox pushes me behind him, stepping forward in a rage that makes him seethe. “You don’t speak to her. You don’t get to speak to anyone.” He grabs the knife from Dante’s hand and moves into the circle, grabbing Reed’s head and tilting it back. Both Shaw and Dante move in, and I watch, like a movie playing out in front of me, as they wrestle him into their hold.

Hands keep him still while Knox grips his jaw, forcing it open.

He moves, blocking my view, but the gargled scream is enough to make me want to look away. The noise continues, growing more incoherent, and the sound of choking morphs into a strangled moan until something lands on the floor with a splat.

They all stand back, and Reed drops to the floor. I look, unable not to, and see his bloodied mouth, now mutilated, with his tongue lying detached on the ground. My hands shoot up to cover my lips, almost automatically, as I imagine the thought of it being cut out of my mouth.

“Peyton?” Knox prompts. I look at him and shake my head, not wanting to touch the knife he’s holding out to me. But part of me, when I allow the memories to surface – wants to sink it into Reed’s black heart, twist it, and open up the artery so he bleeds out quicker.

The tension builds as I feel everyone’s eyes on me and what my decision will be – whether I’ll pick up the knife as they have and make my mark or not.

My hand reaches out, but I can’t stop thinking about what I’d tell my mom and, if I turn out to be pregnant, what I’d tell my child. Vengeance and revenge might seem like motivation now, but how will that change me? Surely, there’s been enough darkness already?

I shake my head at Knox, but he doesn’t pull away or say anything. He stays rooted in place, staring at me. When we were in the dark, it felt like we spoke volumes to each other with a glance or look. There was a library of words to read in his eyes, and I hoped I offered that same solace when we couldn’t say what we really meant.

That same connection that bound us vibrates through me now, as if he’s pouring all of his words out silently, for only me.

I nod to him. And he finally nods back.

As soon as his eyes leave mine, I feel lighter and nearly stagger back with the force of it.

“Come on, Knox. This fucker has to pay. Enough with the games. It’s time to make him wish he were dead.”

I don’t know who spoke, but I watch on, much like Reed would watch as he made Knox hit or abuse me.

Dante breaks free from the circle and goes to collect something. He carries a box back in with him and a long stick-like object. As soon as he gets closer, I recognise it’s the same as Reed used on Knox to burn and mark his skin, burning him down to the bone.

“Get him on his feet,” Dante spits. “I want to look him in the eye.” They jostle about, and Dante stokes the coals in the box until there’s a burning orange tip to the metal rod. The thought of what’s coming makes me want to vomit. Nausea twists in my gut. This is the same – an eye for an eye – but I can’t watch it again.

Shaking my head, I turn away, leaving my memory to fill in the blanks of the sounds and muted, garbled screams. I want to tell them to stop, but as I spin to do that, I see Dante force the poker through Reed’s shoulder – burning a hole in his flesh and easing it through the layers of his skin, muscle and tissue as he goes. I’m transfixed, as more moans and incoherent cries echo in the room, undistinguished as Reed’s tongue lies on the ground. Dante doesn’t pull it out when it reaches the other side, spearing him like a piece of meat.

“That’s for Elias, you piece of filth.” Dante leaves the poker in his shoulder and steps back, and I watch his face twist from rage to sorrow to pain and back again. He’s holding back, and although I don’t know him, I’d bet it’s grief. Knox said he blames himself. Is this what he needed?

Each time they’ve made a move on Reed, I’ve seen their personal revenge story – like their actions are a way to move forward, to cleanse the past and remember their brother. It might be a horrific and macabre honour, but it’s there in how they deliver their justice as a family.

Shaw and Knox keep Reed standing, but with the damage they’ve done, he must feel like a dead weight. His body slumps, and his legs can no longer hold his weight due to the injuries already sustained. I think of how long Knox remained standing, as if proving to Reed that he couldn’t be broken.

The sting from my eyes mists and blurs, and I know it would be easier to look away – to run away – but I can’t.

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