Aaron
The moment I see Penelope soaking wet, trembling violently, bound to a chair with her face bruised and water still dripping from her hair, something inside me shatters.
It doesn't just break, it shatters.
Every ounce of control I've maintained over the past six hours burns away in an instant, consumed by pure, primal rage.
Bane stands near the window, knife in hand and looking between us and the door like he is calculating his chances of escape.
Now that I am here, there are no chances.
There is only what I'm about to do to him.
"Penelope," I say, and my voice sounds strange even to my own ear. "Close your eyes." I instruct.
"Aaron–” Penelope calls, her voice broken but I'm already moving.
Bane lunges with the knife, surprisingly fast for someone who should be terrified. But
