Ronan kisses my forehead. “Do you want to stay or go back upstairs to wait?” I only think about it for a second.
“Stay,” I say firmly. I may not be the one who gives them what they deserve, but I want to see it. I want them to look at me and realize they didn’t break me. For seven years, these people controlled every part of my life. Not anymore. There’s a chair against the wall near the door, and I sit down in it, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees while I wait.
“Turn away or leave if it gets to be too much for you,” Ronan says.
I nod. He’s going to handle this for me. He’s going to give me justice I could never take for myself. Maybe I should feel weak for needing that. I don’t. Because Ronan is my strength.
“Where are Moses and Ezra?” he asks, standing in front of my parents. Neither of them answers. He snips a finger from my father’s right hand. The hand he used to sign the papers that would have sold Ollie, the hand that sold other babies. Daniel locks his jaw and glares at Ronan. I must move or make a sound because his glare turns to me. There is nothing but hate in his eyes. When I used to get this look at home, I would avert my eyes, never able to meet his stare. Not now, though. I stare right back, and I hold it. He’s nothing now, and Ronan will make him even less.
I don’t know how long we have been in this room, but the twenty fingers that the pair started with are down to eight, four each. Questions are asked, no answer is given, and then another finger is removed. Liam no longer turns the blowtorch off between them. He stands ready to burn the bleeding stumps each time. Daniel tries to spout Bible verses, but his words are cut off as Conor snatches his head back. He does it so forcefully that I’m surprised it’s still attached to his shoulders.
“Still nothing to say? When I finish with these last few fingers, I’m going to start on your toes.”
Rebecca’s eyes roll, and her head falls forward. She’s not quite out yet, but she’s close. Conor grips her chin and yanks her head back. “Nope, you need to stay awake for this.” He pulls a syringe from his pocket and injects a clear liquid into the vein in her neck. “There you go. Epinephrine to keep you alert.”
It doesn’t take long for her eyes to widen. “Please. Please stop.” Her voice is low and raw. She no longer sounds like the pious bitch that I grew up with. She’s weak and pathetic.
“Stop? You’re asking me to stop. Do you think the fuckers that bought those kids stop when they beg?” Ronan places the snips against another finger.
“Stop.” Her eyes are wide, and her body shakes. Whatever was in that shot Conor gave her is taking effect.
“You know how to make this stop.”
“They left to find Kenneth. When we couldn’t get in touch with him, they left. I don’t know where they are,” she cries.
The door to the room opens before she can say more. Finn and Duncan stride in. There’s a smirk on Finn’s face.
“Haven’t gotten them to talk yet, brother?”
“Fuck off, Finn. Colton got his answers. That was priority, now I get mine.”
I smile at Ronan. Even though the most important part of this is finding out where Moses is, Ronan still prioritizes my needs. I’ve never had anyone look out for me before him. I fall even more in love with this man.
“Conor, you go with Finn. We have the location. Jeremiah has a tracking app on Moses’ phone that the fucker doesn’t know about.”
At Jeremiah’s name, my head snaps to Duncan. The fucker gave in before my parents did, that’s surprising. The man who terrorized me since I was sixteen. The man who would walk the aisles between the pews with a leather belt. The man who beat me and others for perceived slights against the teaching. I think about Gina, a sixteen-year-old girl. She was whipped all because she asked if she could finish high school before she had to marry.The groom to be stood to the side and watched as she was punished.
“Is the bastard still alive?” I ask.
“Barely,” Finn says.
I stand and walk toward the door. I’m not sure why I need to see him, but I do. I want to see his pain, his helplessness.
“Colton,” Ronan calls after me.
“I want to see him, Ronan. I need to see him.” I explain.
“Then we go see him.” Ronan takes my hand. “Did you get everything you needed, Uncle Duncan?”
“Yes, the kill’s yours.”
Ronan leads me into the room next door, and I have to force myself to take a deep breath before we step inside. I heard what they said about him, heard them say he was barely alive, but my brain still refuses to fully process it. Part of me keeps expecting to walk in and see the same man who haunted my nightmares for years.
My palms are slick with sweat where they grip Ronan’s hand, and I swear my heart is beating so hard that he has to be able to feel it through my skin. Ronan squeezes my hand once before pushing the door open. The man hanging in the middle of the room by his wrists is barely recognizable.
Blood has dried in his hair, matting it to his forehead and temples, and his head hangs forward so heavily that for a second I think he might already be unconscious. Quiet sobs mix with broken groans, the sounds wet and ragged in the otherwise silent room. Then, as we step inside, his head slowly lifts.
“Please, no more. I told you everything.” His eyes land on me. “Colton, boy, help me.”