I pulled back and slammed my heavy boot into Martin’s chest, knocking the breath outta him.

“You were supposed to protect her,” I bit out. “She should’ve been safe with you, and you hurt her in the worst fuckin’ way, you piece of shit.”

Pulling him by his shirt, I slammed my gloved fist into his face.

Over.

And over.

And over.

I released my hold and let him fall to a heap, his head hitting the floor with a soft thud.

He tried to roll away, the cowering little bitch.

I kicked his ribs, making him reflexively shift and expose his gut.

I kicked that, too.

He curled around it, and I kicked his sick fuckin’ head.

Kneeling next to his body, I grabbed his wrist and held up his hand.

“If you tell anyone…”

I broke a finger.

“…I’ll hurt you.”

I broke another.

“If you say anything…”

I broke another.

“…I’ll go down the hall.”

I grabbed his other hand and broke a finger.

“I’ll visit your sisters instead.”

I broke two fingers.

I tossed his mangled digits away and circled his body.

“You were her dead father’s friend.” Panting, I stomped his entire hand till I heard the satisfying crunch. I moved to the other hand to do the same, ignoring the cries of anguish and the vomit.

Just like he’d ignored hers.

Straddling his torso, I wrapped my hands around his pencil neck and lifted him as I leaned down toward his swollen face. “And you used that trust to take advantage of her.”

Releasing his neck, I punched him again. And again. Blood poured from his mouth. His nose. His eyes were swollen shut.

But Glitch put a hand on my shoulder to stop me while Martin still breathed.

’Cause as much as I wanted to give Maisie closure, she wasn’t the only one who needed it.

After Maisie told me what Martin did to her, we’d stuck with the plan.

For the most part.

We got Beth and the girls to Albany, but Glitch had stayed behind to dig through the bastard’s personal laptop.

The shit he found?

Fuck.

I’d earned the honor of beating the shit out of Martin ’cause I’d been the one to hear Maisie’s story from her own mouth. I’d looked into her haunted eyes and sworn I’d make it better.

Glitch earned his own retribution for having to sift through the poisonous filth on the laptop. He’d unencrypted it all, leaving the photos, chat logs, and metadata open for the cops.

But first, he’d backed up the logs and conversations so he could hunt the other monsters himself.

Leaving the laptop open on Maisie’s little art table, Glitch moved to Martin and put a heavy boot on his crotch.

He stomped down.

Once.

Twice.

And then he put his entire weight on that one leg.