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She sits naked in the middle of the bed, legs folded beneath her, the dim light catching her nipple piercings. Her thighs are spread wide, pink pussy exposed, but it’s her face that stops me cold.

She’s pale as a sheet. And clutching my kill list in her fist.

“It’s written in blood.” Her voice shakes. “What the actual fuck, Cade?”

My leather rucksack lies open before her, its contents scattered across the bed. I left her sated, exhausted, and dead to the world in the middle of the night. Still, her first instinct when she wakes is to dig like a loony beaver.

Christ, she’s beautiful when she’s nosyandlivid. I lean against the doorframe, taking the full force of her glare, then exhale slowly. “What is it they say about digging up skeletons? They’re bound to follow you home.”

She launches off the bed, stalking toward me with the clenched scroll. Thrusts it under my nose, voice low and deadly. “What the hell is this, Cade?”

I get the crazy urge to throw her right into bed and sink into her heat, but she’ll more than likely poke my eye out if I try that. So, I settle instead for prying open her fingers, retrieving the scroll, and tucking it in my back pocket.

“Careful. It’s very old.” My arm slowly slides around her waist, pulling her close.

She jerks away. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

I arch an eyebrow. “You’ve come this far down the rabbit hole, and suddenly you want to climb out? Not happening.” I reach for her again.

She sidesteps, jabbing a finger toward my pocket. “Start explaining. Now.”

“I will. First, come here.”

This time, when I pull her back against my chest, she lets me, though every muscle remains taut with anger.

I bury my face in her hair. “It’s not blood. Just red fountain pen.”

“I swear I’ll knee you in the balls if you don’t stop dodging the point.”

Not from this angle, she won’t, but I keep that observation to myself. “Let me highlight a few facts first. I’ve been an open book with you, yet you felt the need to go through my things. Meanwhile, I let you keep your secrets—even when it nearly cost me my life.”

“So you’re a better person than me, whatever.” Her words drip acid. “I’m still waiting on that explanation.”

I rest my chin on her shoulder. “Baby.”

She twists free and yanks the sheet off the bed. Half my rucksack’s contents crash to the floor: vials, needles, lockpicks, bullets—thankfully no explosives—and I wince.

We need to have a chat about handling my stuff.

Shewraps herself in the sheet and spins to face me. “What the fuck is my father’s name doing on your kill list?”

“He’s optional, not mandatory,” I sigh.

“And you’re a fucking deranged psycho!”

“Luciana.” My voice hardens. “Pascal Romano almost killed Sophie.”

Her eyes flash. “Pascal Romano was my uncle! And the operative word is almost—because Nico executed him. What does that have to do with my father?”

“His brother almost killed my sister.” I insist.

She rolls her eyes. “Therefore, you wipe out his entire generation? Well, that makes perfect sense. Never mind that Nico’s already doing a great job of that.”

She stalks closer, poking my chest, her voice rising with each word. “What’s next, Cade? Got a supplementary list on papyrus where my name goes if I step out of line and . . . I don’t know, spill my guts to the authorities?”

“Luciana,” I warn.

“Oh, wait a sec, you are the authorities!” She starts to chuckle, shaking her head. “There’s no taking you down, is there? You’re an entire justice and revenge system.”