Talking about what her father had done made her realize what a monster she’d become. She didn’t dwell on the sins of her parents—her father’s pride and bloodlust, her mother’s weakness—but telling Fenton about them and watching his reactions made her question her past actions. True, she’d never taken a laser rifle to someone, but she’d been hell-bent on destroying Gen, Rhys, and anyone who stood in her way. Just like her father. Her own personal sin was greed, and it had turned deadly during her tenure at Illustra. She wondered what sort of justice would be fitting according to Fenton. Alison wished she could leave him, find a new patron. Credits equaled freedom, and being dependent on someone else, especially such an upstanding man, made her twitch. She wanted to sully him, to knock him off of his holier-than-thou pedestal and drag him down into the muck with her. It was petty, but she’d feel like less of a parasite if he was just as flawed. She might be a weak and disgusting creature, but so was he, and she only needed to get him back into bed to prove it.
