Page 71 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“I’ve done worse,” I say honestly. “I kill clean and quick. But I’ve killed for less reason than you have.

I move closer. “How many more?”

“These three here are still alive, maybe. Then five more out in the field, still in active duty.” He looks at the unconscious prisoners. “Twelve total. Seven down and five to go. Then it’s done.”

“And after?” I step even closer. “After you’ve killed them all?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. I haven’t let myself think that far ahead.”

Because he doesn’t expect to survive this. He’s planning to destroy himself along with his victims. Burn it all down and himself with it.

“You can’t do this alone anymore,” I hear myself say.

He looks at me, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “What?”

I take a breath, committing to this insane decision. “Five more, you said. Let me help you finish it.”

“You want to help me torture them?” There’s something almost like dark humor in his voice.

“No.” I reach out and take the knife from his hand. “No more torture. If they’re guilty then we end them.”

“Why?” The word is raw, desperate. “Why would you help me with this?”

Because I’m already damned. I’ve killed for contracts and reasons far less than this.

“I’ll help you finish it. Five more and then it’s done.” I step even closer and take his hand, the one holding the knife. “And then you’re going to let it go. No more victims after these five. No more hunting.”

I wrap my fingers tighter around his. “You’re going to grieve for those children, and rage at the injustice. You’ll carry the weight of what you’ve done. But you’re going to live. Do you understand me?”

He looks down at my hand and I see something crack in his composure. A shudder runs through him. For a moment I think he might collapse. I squeeze his hand.

Garrett closes his eyes. He nods slowly and takes a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“These three… either let them go or end their suffering,” I say, looking at the prisoners. They’re too far gone though. Releasing them would be crueler than a quick death at this point.

Garrett follows my gaze. For a moment, I think he might insist on more pain and punishment. But then he nods.

“You’re right.” His voice is tired. He picks up a different blade from the table. This one is thin and made for killing.

“Close your eyes,” Garrett tells the prisoners. His voice is tired and sad. The ones conscious enough to hear him stir weakly in their chains.

“It’ll be over soon,” he continues quietly. “Your families will be cared for. The Valorian fund will support your families. They’ll have homes, food, everything they need.”

He draws a shaky breath. “They’ll be told you died with honor, serving Aelfheim.”

One of the prisoners with the broken jaw makes a sound that might be relief.

“I’m sorry,” Garrett whispers. It’s unclear if he’s apologizing for what he’s about to do or for what they did twenty years ago. Maybe both.

Three quick strikes and they’re gone almost instantly.

Garrett drops the blade and walks out without a word. I follow, leaving the dead behind. We’ll have to deal with the bodies eventually. Now we just need to get out of this chamber of horrors.

We wind through the dungeons and up into the palace proper. Neither of us speaks. When we finally step outside into the barracks courtyard, the cold night air hits us both. Somewhere behind us, the palace continues its evening routine, completely unaware of the darkness festering in its depths. Garrett leans against the wall, hand pressed to his mouth.

Then he throws up.

I hold his hair back without comment, one hand steady on his shoulder.