The closer I get to the ending of all this, the more disturbed I feel.
It's unusual for me to ache for home.
That apartment was always empty. I used it only when I needed a break from my work—just enough to clear my head and get a better view.
But I dread leaving this morning.
Maybe it's because I am overworked.
Luther is not an easy pawn to have on your table. Or on your bed.
He's unpredictable. Stubborn. Invasive.
But my final goal isn't Luther. How very dull a dream that would be.
I need to make the world a safe place. A place where me and those like me can finally breathe.
All the years of research, all the crimes, killing, torture- all for a better world.
All for scums like you, mom, to finally die.
Why are you standing still in front of me so commanding?
You can't even remember your own son.
Lucrezia Akna, today is the day hell's gates open for you. Mother.
"Where is Clara?"
