Aleksander stepped forward, his voice low and even. "You can do whatever you want with him," he said, his gaze sweeping over the group. "We've already set up a fake scenario in his place. The system will think he's still in prison. No one will come looking for him. This is your chance."
George's smugness shattered, replaced by a raw, primal fear. He tried to speak, to beg, but the words came out in a broken, desperate stream. "You can't—this isn't—"
Aleksander's expression didn't change. "You took their loved ones," he said, his voice cold and final. "You made them run. You made them beg. You made them die. Now it's your turn."
Tina James's father, Mark James, stood at the edge of the circle, his face pale and drawn, his hands trembling. His eyes were red-rimmed, the grief raw and unfiltered. He'd been a soldier once, his body still carrying the marks of a life spent in service, but now all that strength felt hollow, useless. He watched George, his jaw clenched so hard it ached, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
Charles Sun stepped closer to him, his voice low and steady. "You're an army veteran, right?" he said, his dark eyes meeting Mark's. "You probably have some torture methods."
Mark's eyes flicked to Charles, the question hitting him like a slap. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough. "I do."
Charles nodded once, his expression unreadable. "Then use them."
Mark's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. He took a step forward, his body moving on autopilot, driven by a rage so deep it felt like it might consume him. He walked up to George, who was slumped on the ground, his face pale and sweating, his eyes wide with fear."You took my daughter from me," Mark muttered, his voice low and broken. "You took her away. You made her run. You made her beg. You made her die."
George's eyes flicked up to him, his lips moving, but no sound came out. Mark's hands trembled, but his voice didn't waver. "You're going to pay for what you did. You're going to pay for every step she took, every breath she lost, every scream she made."
Charles watched, his expression calm, almost detached. "You have the right to do this," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You have the right to make him feel what she felt. You have the right to make him beg like she did."
Mark's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with a mixture of grief and rage. He took another step forward, his hands reaching for George, his fingers digging into the man's shoulders. "You're going to feel it," he said, his voice breaking. "You're going to feel every bit of it."
George's eyes widened, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please, don't—"
Mark's hands tightened, his grip almost crushing. "You don't get to say please," he said, his voice low and broken. "You don't get to beg. You don't get to run. You're going to stay here. You're going to feel it."
The group around them watched, their eyes burning with a mixture of grief and rage, their hands clenched into fists.
Aleksander stood back, watching as George writhed on the ground, half broken, his body slick with sweat and blood. The air was thick with the metallic tang of it, the sounds of his ragged breathing and muffled pleas cutting through the quiet.
Mark James knelt over him, his hands and clothes stained dark, his chest heaving with the effort of what he'd just done. His face was a mask of grief and fury, the lines carved deep by years of loss.
Mark straightened slowly, his hands trembling as he looked down at George. His voice came out low, broken, almost a whisper. "Can my daughter find peace now?" he asked, his eyes searching the darkness as if expecting an answer.
Susan, Janet's daughter, stood nearby, her face pale and drawn. Latrice Hicks's sister, Thea, and DeeDee were there too, their eyes fixed on George's broken form. They all felt the same thing—a hollow, aching void that no amount of violence could truly fill.
LThey'd come here for closure, for justice, for something they could hold onto, but now that it was done, the emptiness felt heavier than even.
Aleksander watched them, his expression unreadable. He saw the grief etched into their faces, the raw, unfiltered pain that no amount of punishment could erase. He took a deep breath, his eyes glowing a vibrant green, the color shifting like a beacon in the dark. The air around them seemed to shimmer, the world blurring at the edges.
Suddenly, ghostly figures appeared, translucent and ethereal, their forms flickering like candle flames. Tina James stood first, her face soft and gentle, her eyes filled with a quiet, almost serene light. Janet Lambert appeared next, her expression warm and comforting, her hands reaching out as if to touch her daughter. Latrice Hicks followed, her presence strong and steady, her eyes burning with a fierce, protective love. The other victims—Gloria Zucker, Theresa Raymond, Martha Williams, Beatrice Simon, Yvette Lopez—stood behind them, their forms shimmering in the darkness.
Everyone froze, their eyes widening in shock and disbelief. Mark's breath caught in his throat as he saw his daughter, her face so familiar, so real, yet so distant.
Tina smiled at him, her eyes soft and warm. "Hi, Daddy," she said, her voice gentle and soothing.
Mark's eyes filled with tears, his hands reaching out instinctively, but they passed through her like mist. He broke down, his shoulders shaking as he cried, his voice breaking. "My little girl," he whispered, his words choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."
Janet's daughter, Susan, stepped forward, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Janet smiled at her, her expression filled with a quiet, almost maternal love. "Susan," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "I'm so proud of you. You've grown so strong."
Susan's tears spilled over, her hands reaching out to touch her mother, but they passed through her like air. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't do anything. I'm so sorry."
Janet's expression softened, her eyes filled with a gentle understanding. "You did everything you could," she said. "You're my daughter. You're my strength."
Latrice Hicks's sister, Thea, stepped forward, her eyes filled with a mixture of grief and relief. Latrice smiled at her, her presence strong and steady. "Thea," she said, her voice firm and reassuring. "You've been so strong for everyone. Don't carry this alone. I'm here with you."
Thea's tears spilled over, her hands reaching out to touch her sister, but they passed through her like mist. "I miss you so much," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I miss you every day."
Latrice's smile softened, her eyes filled with a gentle, almost maternal love. "I'm always with you," she said. "In your heart, in your memories. I'm never truly gone."
The other victims stepped forward, their forms shimmering in the darkness. Gloria Zucker, Theresa Raymond, Martha Williams, Beatrice Simon, Yvette Lopez—they all reached out to their loved ones, their presence a quiet, almost comforting force.
The air was filled with the sound of tears and whispered goodbyes, the weight of years of grief and loss settling over them like a heavy blanket.Aleksander watched them, his eyes glowing a vibrant green, the color shifting like a beacon in the dark. "They're real," he said, his voice low and steady. "You don't have much time. Say your goodbyes."
Mark's tears spilled over, his hands reaching out to touch his daughter, but they passed through her like mist. "I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."
Tina's smile softened, her eyes filled with a gentle, almost maternal love. "I know, Daddy," she said.
"I know you did everything you could. I'm proud of you."Janet's daughter, Susan, stepped forward, her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't able to give anything good description or details to police. I couldn't do anything."
Janet's expression softened, her eyes filled with a gentle understanding. "You did everything you could," she said. "You're my daughter. You're my strength."
Latrice's sister, Thea, stepped forward, her eyes filled with a mixture of grief and relief. "I miss you so much," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"I miss you every day."Latrice's smile softened, her eyes filled with a gentle, almost maternal love. "I'm always with you," she said. "In your heart, in your memories. I'm never truly gone."
The other victims stepped forward, their forms shimmering in the darkness. They reached out to their loved ones, their presence a quiet, almost comforting force. The air was filled with the sound of tears and whispered goodbyes, the weight of years of grief and loss settling over them like a heavy blanket.