Chapter 9 #4
His hand shakes slightly. “No. It won’t bring them back. But at least they won’t have died unavenged.”
I look at the blood on his hand and the shadows under his eyes.
Garrett isn’t some sadist enjoying torture.
He’s not doing this because he likes it.
His mind broke trying to reconcile that the people he trusted murdered children.
He’s destroying himself because he doesn’t know any other way to process the horror.
It’s killing him.
“How did you find out?” I ask quietly.
“By accident. I was investigating something else, irregularities in supply reports. I found a hidden file in the archives,” he mutters, shoulders sagging.
“I tried to ignore it at first and tell myself it was lies, propaganda, perhaps our fae enemies trying to sow discord. But then I checked the official archives myself.”
Behind him, Marcian stirs weakly, making soft sounds of pain. Garrett doesn’t even look at him.
“I couldn’t let it stand,” he continues, still staring at his bloody hands. “I couldn’t just... pretend I didn’t know. So I made a plan and started taking them, one by one. I made it look like they were being targeted by someone else and then I did what needed to be done.”
“This isn’t what needed to be done,” I say.
“Then what should I have done?” He looks at me, and there’s desperation in his eyes now. His raw emotion finally breaking through the cold control.
I don’t have an answer. In my world, justice is a knife in the dark and a body that stops breathing. But I’ve never had to grapple with betrayal on this scale.
“You should stop,” I say finally. “Before this consumed you completely.”
We stand in silence. Marcian has passed out in his chains, which is probably a mercy. The other prisoners are quiet too, either dead or unconscious.
The torch flames flicker.
“What are you going to do?” Garrett asks quietly. “Now that you know.”
It’s a good question. What the fuck am I going to do?
I’m his hired guard. My job is to protect him.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
He nods like he expected that answer. “You should go. Forget you saw this. I’ll handle the cleanup.”
I shake my head. “I can’t forget this, Garrett.”
“Then what?” He meets my eyes. “Are you going to stop me?”
A part of me understands darkness and his need for retribution. He wants to ensure that monsters don’t get to walk away unscathed. Garrett studies my face, searching for judgment and condemnation.
“You’re not horrified,” he says slowly, like he’s just realizing it.
“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.
When he’s done, he slides down the wall and sits on the cold stone floor with his head in his hands. “Tomorrow, I’ll report to the Council. Tell them we found the bodies. Killed by rebels or bandits or whoever they want to blame. The families will get closure.”
I keep watching him in silence.
“My parents don’t know,” he says without looking at me. His voice is hoarse. “About any of this. They don’t know I’m broken.”
I offer him water from my flask.
Garrett lifts his head. His face is pale, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. “You meant what you said? You’ll help me finish this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” The question is raw. “You barely know me. This isn’t your fight.”
Because leaving him alone with this will destroy him. I don’t say any of that though.
“My contract is to keep you alive for fifty days,” I tell him, keeping emotion out of my voice. “What you’re doing here may fail or violate my assignment. Helping you conclude this quickly is in my best interest. I’m protecting the guild’s asset, nothing more.”
Something in Garrett’s expression crumbles at my cold assessment. He nods once and pushes himself to his feet. His legs shake but hold. He looks toward the palace, then back at me.
“Five more.” He wipes his mouth and meets my eyes with renewed resolve.
“Five more,” I agree. “And then it’s done.”
“And then it’s done,” he repeats. His voice is steadier as he pushes the horror into a box he can close.
I nod to his promise and wonder what the fuck I just agreed to.
Five more, then he walks away.
Garrett means it. I can see it in his eyes. I believe him when he says he’s done after that. I hope the vow is enough to keep us both from falling completely into the dark.