With Every Breath (Slow Burn #4) - Maya Banks Page 0,45

and me.”

She knew well how the rest would play out now that she’d made her move. Speculation would run rampant—was already rippling through the town. She’d continue to face the same scorn and ridicule she’d already been subjected to and be treated like a leper.

None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was that Thomas got wind that she was here and as soon as he was a free man, not only would he know she’d come, he’d know how to find her. It wasn’t as if she was going to make it hard.

Until then, she’d be treated with no better regard than Thomas himself, only the people here would be even more bitter toward her because she had never paid for her crimes. She’d gone free while so many other women had paid the price for her freedom.

It was nothing more than she deserved. She deserved far worse.

It mattered little what they thought of her. But soon . . . soon they would know that justice had finally been served when not only Thomas Harrington took his last breath and Eliza either died taking him out, or she spent the rest of her life in prison.

She’d only had a short time to prepare herself, and she was prepared. She’d trained and been trained by the best, and she didn’t fear death if it meant Thomas could never hurt another woman. But she hadn’t expected to feel so painfully empty, soulless and already dead on the inside.

And so lonely, she ached.

Knowing she was merely delaying the inevitable, she turned away from the steps of the courthouse, recalling another image of when she’d left the courtroom after the sentencing and had been swarmed by reporters, cameras and microphones. All of which she’d ignored, desperate to be away from a place that had caused her so much shame, anguish and heartrending guilt.

It, like so many other dreams, haunted her at night. Never the same one in a row. But each one eating away at her little by little, night by night, taking a piece of her soul until there was barely any left. When the nightmares became too much to bear, she simply didn’t sleep and instead, remained awake, drinking coffee on autopilot as she went back over her mission, absorbing every detail, no matter how minor, and planning for every conceivable scenario.

It was ingrained in her memory. There would be no forgetting it. She could recount it verbatim down to the most minute detail. But she studied her notes, and there were stacks, as a way of atonement. A reminder to all those women that they hadn’t been forgotten. Not by her. Never by her.

She knew each of their names. Whether they were married, single, had families, or like her, had no one at all to even notice she was gone and to grieve for the loss of her. She already had personally drafted letters to each of the victims’ families or loved ones ready to be mailed. Anyone she could find that a once vibrant, beautiful woman belonged to. And she would explain that justice was finally being served and apologize for her part in Thomas’s madness. At least the victims’ families would have confirmation instead of bitter resentment that he was alive and free while their loved one was dead.

Those letters would be mailed right before she took Thomas down in case she wasn’t alive to do it after. Then and only then would she carry out her crusade, and she would not fail, no matter the cost, no matter if she went down with him. In the deepest, darkest recesses of what remained of her soul, she wanted final rest and freedom from the oppressive burden she’d carried for so many years.

Dragging her jacket more firmly around her to shield her from the now much colder drizzle, she walked slowly back by the diner, her work done for today. Now, she waited. And anticipated the feeling of redemption when Thomas Harrington ceased to exist.

At the end of the street was a mail drop. A sharp stab of pain slashed through her chest at the reminder of the letter she’d mailed to Gracie. She’d mailed it from Kansas, taking an indirect route to Oregon so no one could track her, her purpose to send anyone coming after her in the opposite direction. And they would come. But while they were chasing dead ends in the Midwest, she would be in Oregon doing what she should have done long