Back at the Golden Palace, Cecelia's head hung at the stake in front of the others who were tied to the pillars. The structure was split into four trembling columns, barely held together by a thin, rotting strip of wood that looked ready to fall apart in a matter of days.
She screamed for help—begged Thomas, begged Norman—but they ignored her, treating her agony like some sick melody.
"Nothing beats their cry when you're about to end their lives. They suddenly start seeing kindness in their hearts—kindness that was never there," Norman said, amused. The two men laughed together, a sound that wasn't funny to anyone except them. The victims watched their lives flash before their eyes.
