Page 30 of On Edge

And now, Sage is doing the same thing.

That’s why she has to leave.

Her stunt at dinner proved she’s Richard’s snake, here to see that I screw up once and for all. He doesn’t know who I am; he can’t know. I’ve been so very careful. He just likes to winwhatever way he can, and if he’s willing to play this dirty, then Richard Lovett desperately needs my money.

That goddam morality clause.

I underestimated him. I didn’t think he’d stoop so low as to use it. There’s no proof I touched her, except for those ugly bruises around her throat. But that’s enough, and I wouldn’t put it past that family to have a certificate somewhere that says she’s pure as driven fucking snow when she came here, when the opposite is true.

Maybe I deserve this.

But I don’t know what’s worse…prison or marrying someone who stands for everything I hate, who manipulated her way into my life, who, in the end, is just like her father. For now, though, I can’t sleep. Not with her under my roof.Instead, I go to my workshop, the secret room that no one enters but me. My razors are waiting.

I pull each one from its velvet case, laying them out in order on the leather mat:

Death, Judgment, Temperance, Justice, Fortitude, Truth, and Mercy.

I select the first and begin the ritual: oil, strop, test. The blade whispers against leather, a sound that calms the rage crawling under my skin. I test the blade against my thumb, and a thin line of red appears. I don’t even feel it; the blade is too sharp. Perfect for killing before they even know it’s been done.

Perfect for the three prey still left on my list, not counting the smaller players—three men who destroyed my family and walked away clean.

My phone vibrates. I glance at it. There’s a security alert on the screen, showing movement in the east wing corridor. I pull up the camera feed on my phone, and there she is, wrapped in a blanket, trying doors. She’s been looking for something sincethe moment she got here. What for, I’ve no idea. Maybe the same thing as me, evidence to take back to her father.

She tries another door, but it’s locked. Then another. All locked. She’s a smart girl, but not smart enough. The keys to those doors are all in my office. Why didn’t she take them when she was in there this morning?

She pauses at the entrance to this corridor behind a painting of my father on the landing by the stairs, the one leading to my workshop. My grip tightens on the razor’s handle. Suddenly, she looks up, right at the camera. She can’t know I’m watching, that every room she tries, every surface she touches, I know about it.

But she turns away, shoulders hunched, and disappears back toward her room. I watch until she’s gone, then return to my blades.

Tonight, she thought she’d outsmarted me. It was fucking cute of her to try, but I don’t care about Richard’s deals. It’s tempting to marry her and neutralize his trap, to keep this damn house until I find what I’m looking for. Figure out what to do with her after, which will be hard, as she’s already gotten under my skin.

Seeing her the other night, sleeping so peacefully on my bed without a care in the world, I really thought she was Nell. I wanted to believe it was. And then I wanted to drag her somewhere dark, demand to know why she fucked me over, and then carve the fear right off her face.

Now I knowwhoshe is, it’s worse.

I can’t touch her.

And I can’t stop watching her, either; every move, every breath, hating everything she is, but also wondering that if I turn the lights off, wrap my hands around her delicate throat, and fuck her senseless, I could pretend, for a moment, that she’s not a Lovett. Because every time I look at her face, I want to punishher for what she and everything her family has done to me, in every sadistic, twisted way you can imagine.

The demon in me wants to wrap my hands around her delicate throat while I bury my cock deep inside her.

The rot wants to rip her into pretty pieces while I taste every inch.

The madness begs me to slit her pretty little throat.

I want to destroy her. But it’s the fear in her eyes that drives the hunger, taunting me to slice her apart. That’s why she has to stay away from me.Because it’s not Nell I see anymore, when I reach forMercyand close my eyes.

It’s Sage.

9

SAGE

Early morning comes too soon.

Not that I slept.

The storm kept me awake last night, although it’s less volatile outside now. I can actually hear myself think. It’s so dark and quiet that it emboldens me to explore the east wing again. I have tried a few times, but the rooms past mine remain locked. One corridor, though, is blocked by temporary boards that look like a makeshift ribcage, so I go to stand at the end of it, trying to see deeper through the gap.