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I turn around to face the water, and I look down at my feet. I groan in pain as the hot water burns my tender flesh. The blood runs down my body, swirling into the drain. I watch the tinted water as it pools by myfeet. I lift my head, letting the water cascade down my face. What have I done?

I ball my fist and punch into the tile. Pain explodes in my hand as I sob into the water. I fucking hate myself.

I grab my soap and begin scrubbing my body. I scrub until all of my skin fucking burns. I feel like I am coated in fucking scum.You are weak. No one will want you again. You’re ruined. Used.

I wash my hair and let the thoughts take over. I am worthless. I mean nothing. No one will want me. It’s true. I need to accept it.

I step out of the shower and dry myself with a clean towel, carefully blotting my wound. I rummage through my vanity until I find some rubbing alcohol. I remove the cap and gently apply it to the battered area with a cloth. The alcohol sizzles through the wound, as if his name is trying to sear itself even deeper. I grab a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts and slip them on.

I need a fucking drink. I step out of my room and grab a bottle of wine from my bar cart and flop down onto my bed. I don’t even care to find my phone. I can’t tell anyone what happened. They will see me for what I am—a sinner.

I open the bottle and take a long drink. I set the bottle down on my nightstand and I turn the TV on to my favorite reality show—The Real Housewives.

I don’t think the world has enough wine or TV to make the pain go away.

24

Dante

My father is the last person I want to see today. After last night, I know my judgment is jaded. I shouldn’t be going out on a job in this fucked up head space. It doesn’t matter, though— We all die one way or another. I just hope I get to bury myself deep in Evelyn’s cunt one more time before I go.

I slam my car door shut and brace myself for this meeting. Upon entering, I see my father inside his office with Lucien’s father.

“Hey, son.”

I skip the small talk and take a seat in a chair to the left of them. My jaw was clenching, wanting to get straight to business. He crosses his arms and stares at me with a smirk curling on his lips.

“Your time is running out, Dante.”

I snarl at him as he smiles down at me. Lucien’s father, Alaric Crowe, leans up against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. If this is all he has to tell me about, I should knock them both out. They are constantly meddling with my shit. I told him I would take care of it. And I fucking will.

“I have made an executive decision, if you will.”

I stare up at him, rage blinds me in the heat of the moment. What the fuck.

“What kind of decision, father?” sarcasm dripping from my low tone. I rise to meet him, standing only five feet apart.

“You have two options now, son… You can marry Lacey, as it should be, and kill the whore that’s making you weak.”

“I’m not fucking killing Evelyn. Out of the fucking question. What is option two?” My patience is gone. I’m about to snap.

“That’s where this gets interesting. You know, there shouldn’t be an option two. How do we know that this little whore you have taken an obsession over is worthy of producing an heir with my only son?”

I ball my fists at my sides, my veins turning into lava beneath the surface, ready to erupt at any moment. Evelyn isn’t a fucking whore. She is fucking mine. I’m the only one who has ever been and ever will be inside of her. I fucking own her.

“I still have four months.” My father chuckles at the statement.

“Option two it is.” He rounds his desk and produces a manila folder from the top drawer, letting it slap to the surface below.

I stride over, picking up the folder, scanning the material.

No. No fucking way. I shake my head in disbelief.

“Why?” My words are barely audible.

“You have three days. Make it happen, or I’ll arrange your wedding ceremony for next week.”

I scoop up the envelope and storm out of the office. I only have one option. I know this kill will hurt a lot of people, but I don’t give a fuck.