Page 2 of Merciless

I push away from the door and cross to the bathroom, still not turning on the light. My reflection in the mirror is gray. No color.

I turn on the faucet and wash my hands. Scrub them even though they’re not dirty. Not literally, anyway.

My hands are clean.

My conscience isn’t.

I scrub harder.

In the morning, Father will explain it all away. He’ll make it sound like business. Like protection. Like the natural consequence of a man reaching above his place and threatening our family.

Everything will make perfect sense after Arthur Vexley twists the truth into something palatable.

And the worst part? That’s what he’s trained me to do.

Me.

I’m nineteen. Two more years of college, and then I’ll go to law school. But that’s all for show. I already know everything I need to know about the law…and how to bend it.

Like I said, I’ve been groomed for this since I was a toddler.

And because of that, I understand exactly why Victor Halstead had to be dealt with.

He was dangerous.

He was a threat.

He was not innocent.

I know that.

I believe that.

I need to believe that.

I turn off the water and grip the sink with both hands. My breath fogs the mirror.

The wrong man died tonight.

The thought comes so clearly I almost look over my shoulder, as if someone spoke it out loud.

Father would consider the thought a betrayal because it questions him.

The wrong man died tonight.

I tighten my hands around the sink until my knuckles ache.

I’ll never say this to Samson. He struck the fatal blow.

I’ll never say it to Cain, either, because I’m not sure what he would hear.

At sixteen, he should be easier to read. He should be messier. Angrier. But Cain has always been a closed door in a dark hallway. You can stand in front of him all night and still not know what waits on the other side.

And Father⁠—

No.

I’ll never say it to Father.