And as I stared at my daughter’s fading image, my fear vanished. If I wound up like Slate, if that was the price I had to pay to make my daughter safe, so be it. If I was haunted for the rest of my life because Maggie needed me to make hard choices, so be it. And if I had to die a horrible, lingering death so that my little girl could have a chance to live . . . So be it. I tightened my grip on the hideous weight of the ancient bronze knife. I put one hand gently on Lloyd Slate’s forehead to hold him still. And then I cut his throat.
