THERESA
Joe sat in the center of the room, bound to a metal chair, thick chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles. His head was slumped forward. He looked smaller than I remembered, gaunt, unshaven, pathetic.
But when we entered, his head snapped up.
For a moment, something flickered across his face. His brows lifted. His eyes shone with something. Hope?
Could I live with myself if I ended him?
Sophia’s screams echoed in my head. My own screams.
No. Some people don’t deserve mercy.
A muffled noise came from behind the duct tape sealing his mouth. He wanted to speak.
I stared at him, my heart a dull, heavy drum in my chest. And, I realized, I was grateful to Tyce for having the forethought to seal his mouth shut. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He had sent me countless
