Page 39 of On Edge

“No one—not even you, Mundel—gets to touch what’s mine until I’m done with it. Got it?” My voice is low in his ear.

“So you don’t want me to get rid of her?” I did ask him to deal with her, but that was before…

Before what?

My hand tightens on the metal as I shove that thought out of my mind. “I changed my mind. If you put one finger on her, Mundel, I’ll feed you to my dog piece by fucking piece. She’s off limits. To everyone. Is that clear?”

There’s a pause. I can hear the wheels turning in his head.

“Crystal. What about the boat?”

“If she leaves, then let her.”

“If she stays?”

“She won’t.”

It takes everything in me to pull the blade away and slip it back where it came from. Unfortunately, Mundel is a necessary evil. The only reason he’s still alive is that I need him. For now.

But every day he pushes me, he moves one step closer to becoming another body in the lake.

He watches me intently as I grab my kit, a leather roll with dark brass buckles and S.T. burned into the strap, and slip it into my bag. It looks like any other men’s grooming kit, but he knows what’s inside.

And he shouldn’t forget it.

Not who I was, and who I still am.

The Demon of Port Penn.

I leave without a word, before I change my mind and slice him from ear to ear. I don’t kill those still loyal to me—or women and children, not like the men who murdered my family while they slept. I have rules. I’ve always had rules. No matter how much my fingers itch to, or my blood sings that he’d deserve it.

As I walk, I check the cameras on my phone again, just to locate her. She’s still in the orchard, sitting at the base of a tree, crying where anyone could see her. Where Mundel could see her. The thought of him spying on her, even on a security feed, makes my jaw clench.

But I think I’ve made my point clear. She’s not his.

On my island, she belongs to me.

At least now, I’m leaving. And that’s more mercy than she deserves. More than I’ve given anyone in years.

And when I get back, she’d better be gone.

I pause by the kitchen as I’m on my way out. Katherine is kneading dough when she sees me hovering and gives me a suspicious look. The kitchen is her domain, and I usually keep out of it. If I want something, I’m supposed to ring a bell like Lord of the fucking Manor—her idea, not mine.

Kath wipes her hands on her apron and walks over. Her eyes stray down to my travel bag. And just like that, I’m twelve years old again, caught trying to sneak biscuits before dinner.

“Leaving so soon, Master Troy?”

I don’t mind that she still calls me that. Kath has earned the right. She was the only one who visited me in Port Penn, who didn’t believe the lies.

“I won’t be back for a few days. Hunting.”

Her mouth makes a flat line. “I figured.” She knows exactly whathuntingmeans.

“She’s in the orchard,” I say before I change my mind.

Kath blinks. “Who is in the orchard?”

God, this woman. “The Lovett girl.”