She was still alive, but from the look of her, it might have been better if she wasn't. Even if she lived, she would have been left with some horrific scars. The flesh of her face on one side had melted deeply enough to see a fragment of cheekbone underneath. Her hair too was all but gone, her scalp reduced to a blackened mess.
About the only way of identifying her as a woman was what the flames had revealed of her upper half – but even that was charred and scarred now too. She'd never seduce another man with any of those features. Vol doubted that Penelope had aimed for what Beth considered most important merely to spite her, but he couldn't have imagined a more fitting punishment.
But now that she'd done it, Penelope herself looked horrified. Beth struggled in the dirt, trying to stand back up, as her flesh fell from her skin, and neither Penelope nor Nolan could look at the results of her work.
She looked sick to her core, broken by her own artistry.
