Page 110 of Heartless Sinner

He’d wanted me to know it was him.

Not the man in the chair.

I searched every visible inch of the stranger.

Too broad to be my father.

His hands were bigger too.

Who the hell is it then?

“Hello, Daphne,” Brooks said into the microphone.

He ripped off the hood.

I knew that face.

My body reacted before my brain caught up. I stumbled backward, a scream tearing out of me.

Sinclair.

The red glow carved deep shadows into his terrified face. His eyes were wide and pleading as he stared toward the glass.

I had no idea if he could see me.

He quickly looked back at Brooks.

Brooks stepped behind him and ripped the filthy rag from his mouth.

“No, no, no, no!” Sinclair thrashed against the chair. “Please! Let me go!”

“Hello, Professor Sinclair,” Brooks said into the microphone.

“Who are you?” Sinclair stammered. “Why am I here?”

Brooks stepped directly in front of him. “You’re here because you like to touch things that don’t belong to you.”

I was the thing.

I should’ve known Brooks would find out about Sinclair.

A tiny, fucked-up part of me was relieved he had.

“What?” Sinclair shook his head frantically. “What did I do? Someone, help me! Please!”

Brooks stared at him like the confusion bored him before punching Sinclair in the face. Sinclair’s face snapped sideways.

I waited for Brooks to punch him again.

He turned and walked out.

A sharp click came from behind me. I spun around as a hidden door slid open, and Brooks entered my cell.

His glowing mask sent me backing into the wall, but he ignored me and went to the old TV. He pulled a remote from his pocket.

Static flickered across the screen before giving way to grainy footage of a prison cafeteria.

My stomach dropped.