The headlights cut off as we pull onto the quiet suburban street. Henderson’s house is a two-story colonial with pristine white siding, and it sits at the end of a cul-de-sac. It looks normal. Peaceful. Like evil couldn’t possibly live inside.
My heart hammers against my ribs as memories flood back. His basement. The camera. The tally marks I scratched into the wall with my fingernail.
“You’re shaking,” Ace says, his hand covering mine in the backseat.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
Cyrus turns in the driver’s seat. “You don’t have to be fine. Not with us.”
I nod, unable to speak past the knot in my throat. The twins exchange a look I’ve come to recognize when they seem to communicate silently.
“He gets home in seventeen minutes,” Ace says, checking his watch. “We go over the plan once more.”
Cyrus reaches into his jacket and pulls out three comm devices. “These stay in at all times. If anything happens and we get separated?—”
“We won’t,” Ace interrupts.
“If anything happens,” Cyrus continues, “the extraction vehicle is the blue sedan parked three streets down.”
I take the small earpiece, fingers trembling as I fit it into place. Knowing that in minutes, I’ll be looking into the eyes of the monster from my nightmares.
“We wait in the shadows and strike when he’s trying to open the door,” Ace explains, tapping a diagram on his phone.
Bile rises in my throat. “And if he sees us?”
“He won’t,” Cyrus says, absolute certainty in his voice. “But even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. No one’s coming to help him tonight.”
I look down at my hands. They’ve stopped shaking. “I need a minute,” I whisper.
Without a word, both brothers exit the car, giving me space while remaining close enough that I can see their silhouettes through the tinted windows.
I close my eyes and picture the girl I was. Thirteen and terrified, believing no one would ever believe her. No one would ever come for her.
But someone did come. I came back for her.
I swing the car door open and step into the cool night air. The twins immediately flank me, two shadows molding to my sides.
“I’m ready,” I say, and my voice sounds different. Harder.
Inside me, something shifts—a door unlocking that I’ve kept bolted since I was thirteen. The rage I’ve contained for years flows through my veins like liquid metal, hot and heavy. I’ve always carried this darkness, buried it beneath dance routines and forced smiles, pretended it wasn’t part of me.
“I want him to see my face,” I tell them. “I want him to know exactly who’s come for him.”
Cyrus touches my shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve spent twelve years hiding from what he did to me.” My fingernails dig into my palms. “I’m done hiding.”
We move across manicured lawns. This isn’t the first time I’ve stalked through darkness—I used to creep through foster homes after midnight, avoiding creaking floorboards, navigating by memory and instinct.
The darkness inside me wasn’t born in Henderson’s basement. It was always there—in the way I learned to disappear inside myself when things got bad, in how I catalogued weaknesses in everyone around me, in the violent fantasies that kept me warm on cold nights.
“His car,” Ace whispers, pointing to the headlights turning onto the street.
My heart hammers against my ribs, but my hands are steady now. The girl who scratched tally marks into the basement walls with bloody fingernails is gone. In her place stands a woman who understands that some wounds never heal—they just become weapons.
The car pulls into the driveway. Henderson gets out, briefcase in hand, looking older but unmistakable.
My darkness unfurls like wings.