Damien’s hand presses firmly against the small of my back as we descend the stairs, the cold, damp air thickening with every step. My pulse quickens. There’s something wrong about this place—about the way the walls seem to close in, the distant hum of machinery, the smell of sweat and blood that grows stronger the deeper we go. I feel it in my bones, and yet I let him lead me.

When we reach the basement, he pulls open the door, and I’m greeted by the sound of muffled groans, the sight of dim lighting casting long shadows over three figures.

Tied to chairs. Chained to desks. Gags stuffed in their mouths.

My heart seizes, my breath stops. I know these men.

Uncle Rodney—his thinning hair plastered to his forehead, his face bruised and swollen beyond recognition— the man who raped me everyday of every summer from the time I turned nine until my parents divorced when I was thirteen, and I never saw him again.

Ross—the janitor who thought it was funny to pin me up against a wall and finger my pussy in high school—now trembling, his eyes wide with terror. And then there’s the man from the nightclub, the one who thought he could get away with pinning me down and fucking me while I screamed for him to stop.

“Recognize them?” Damien’s voice is low, dark, a quiet rumble that vibrates through my body. I can’t find my voice, but I nod.

His hand moves up to my shoulder, a light squeeze of reassurance. “I did this for you, Emma,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “I found them. I brought them here. They’re going to pay dearly for what they did to you.”

I feel my stomach twist, my mind spinning in a thousand different directions.

“I beat them, tortured them,” he continues, his voice dripping with a mix of pride and something much darker. “But that’s not enough. Not for what they did to you.”

I swallow hard, my mouth is dry.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Damien says, his fingers tracing the curve of my jaw before lifting my chin so that I have no choice but to look into his eyes—those eyes that burn with a ferocity and brutality that scares me. “But if you want to prove yourself to me, if you want to earn my trust… you’ll kill them.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Kill them? Me?

“You deserve revenge, Emma,” he whispers, his lips grazing my earlobe. “And you deserve to be the one to take it.”

I stare at the men—my monsters. They’re helpless now, exactly how they made me feel once upon a time. It would be so easy… so easy to give in, to let Damien guide me to that place he lives in, that place of sadism and brutality.

“I…” My voice cracks.

Damien leans in, his breath hot and taunting. “I’ll kill anyone who’s ever hurt you. I’ll burn the world for you. But tonight, I want you to show me who you really are. You want to stop being the girl who takes abuse, don’t you?”

His hand wraps around mine, and I can feel the weight of the cold steel he presses into my palm—a gun. My fingers tremble against the metal, the heat from his body too close, too intoxicating, making it hard to think straight.

“You just have to pull the trigger.”

I’m not breathing. My heart pounds so loud it drowns out everything else. I can’t move.

“I know you want this, Emma,” he purrs, his lips brushing against my neck. “Show me how far you’re willing to go.”

I stare at the gun, at the trembling hands of the men who destroyed pieces of me. My finger hovers over the trigger, not daring to even caress it even though I want to so badly. 

And in this moment, I don’t know who I am anymore.