The cellar door creaked open again, slow as a heartbeat stopping.
Vesper descended with surgical calm, latex gloves snapping into place.
She carried a stainless steel tray.
On it—scalpel, bone saw, tourniquet. A single syringe filled with clear liquid.
Jack tensed. “You don't need props for cruelty."
She set the tray beside him. “I need clarity."
Kyle whimpered. “What is that?"
“A question," she said.
She pulled up a metal stool, sat directly across from Jack.
“Here's the deal," she said. “One injection each for them. Or the saw… for you."
Jack's voice cracked. “What?"
“You kill them—clean, fast, painless—and I let you live."
“No."
“You hesitate," she said softly. “That's all I needed to see."
Lana's voice trembled. “Jack, don't listen. You're not this person."
He shook his
