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But I can also see that the bolt is not locked.

I know it’s a mistake. I know I shouldn’t.

Even as I know these things, though, I stare at the door, consumed by my need to know more.

I take two steps closer, reaching out a hand to grip the metal handle and then, my inner voice still screaming at me to stop, I pull it open just a crack and look inside.

The noise from inside is suddenly louder without the thick door to keep it in.

I see two men facing me, strapped to chairs, fabric gags tied

across their mouths. They’re moaning, one sobbing, as they look

at something just out of my sight, terror in their eyes. As I watch, though, their torturer reveals himself.

Kent, dressed in his suit pants and an undershirt, steps into my

line of sight. My eyes take in the strong muscles of his back, the

rage that I can see pulsing through him just by the way he stands

over these men.

long piece of it hanging. down from his fist, the buckle dangling. As I watch,

Chapter 45

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side, letting the belt drag across the men’s faces like a whip, the buckle tearing

his shoulders heaving. The

but this is apparently not the answer that Kent wants. He drops the belt, moving to the man on the

man starts to scream as

sharp edge of the knife to the

howl of horror, of pain, as Kent

deeper.

the spot, horrified. Though I can feel myself

can’t move, can’t stop watching. The man not

panic, looking everywhere for

and then –

my god

to scream

to the other man and then

to

push the door shut and

hallway.

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