Chapter 13

13

VICTOR

S he did it. She got me out.

And now we're standing in a vast, empty street in front of Bryan Rodrick's door. I hate that Sedona's here, seeing me turn into the monster they warned her about. But I gave her more than enough opportunities to turn away and run.

"Victor…" she whispers. The long pause makes me think she's going to say I shouldn't go through with it. "No panda this time, okay? No calling card. Bryan Rodrick doesn't appear anywhere in your file, and we don't need them to start digging anything up because he died."

Oh my. Is the good doctor finally starting to see things from my perspective?

A goofy grin creeps across my face.

"No panda. No modus-operandi," I confirm. This isn't like any of my other prior. Bryan's death won't tarnish my good name in the institute or as the serial killer they believe me to be. This one's for fun. "Now, would you rather not go to the hotel and wait for me?"

"I want to be here when you come out." She latches onto my arm. "Be your pillar of strength for whatever you might be feeling. Would you mind?"

I don't have the heart to tell her all I'll be feeling is pure fucking bliss. "I don't."

Before I enter, I give Sedona a kiss. It's quick but carries the same passion I've delivered to her sweet mouth all afternoon. Perks of having a doctor on my side, I suppose. They didn't even bother sending a guard with us.

I lower the makeshift mask Sedona made—a pair of her thick winter stockings with two holes—and kick the door in. Without my tools, tact is out the window, and with Sedona outside, I better make this quick.

"What the—" Bryan shouts from his bedroom. "You don't know what kind of mistake you're making, chum. But it's the last you ever will."

I sneak through the shadows, watching from the distance as lights flick on. First the bedroom, then the hallway, and finally the living room. I take my stand in the archway and wait for him.

Bryan rounds the corner with a pistol in his hand, but he jumps at the first sight of me. We're inches apart, and before he has a chance to raise his gun, I clutch his wrist.

"Bryan Rodrick, I've been waiting a long time for this."

He screams as I drive the first punch into his jaw.

"Wait, no, you don—" A second fist shuts him up and makes him drop the gun. Good, now it's me and him.

I hoist him into the air and throw his body across the room. He smashes through the dining room table and lies motionless among the broken wood. I walk towards him.

"Come on, man," he sputters a blood-filled cough. "Whatever I did, I can make it right. Say the word, and I can chuck a couple of bucks your way. We can forget this ever happened."

"Pathetic."

I collapse my full weight on top of him before delivering my next punch. The screaming starts and stops, replaced by tears at the realization he isn't going to get out of this. I beat on Bryan long after he drew his last breath, and my black leather gloves tore at the knuckles.

And when I've released all my pent-up rage and frustrations against his husk, I leave.

Quick and dirty. No trace of my serial killer side.

And onto the real reason I wanted to get out of the asylum.