Page 48

My heart pounds hard—actually, scratch that, I’m shitting myself—the closer my “Uber” gets to Valencia.

Ash, my driver-slash-security detail, catches my eye in the rearview mirror. His nod is small, but it’s there.

The I-know-you’re-freaking-out-but-you’ve-got-this nod.

My fingers dig into the seat as I suck in a breath that doesn’t do a damn thing to settle me.

The wire digs into my spine beneath my loose T-shirt—a cold, metallic reminder of what’s about to happen.

Kai is parked on the adjacent street, listening in and waiting for my safe word: Enough.

Vin’s inside the gym, working out by the pool just in case David gets drown-y.

I’ve got my lines rehearsed.

David has no clue what’s coming. He’s riding high on the bulletin deal—he’ll be too hyped to notice me shifting gears until it’s too late. Once I blindside him about CX3, he’ll slip. He’s too cocky not to.

Most importantly, it’s the middle of the fucking day.

What could go wrong?

What indeed? David might not have killed those women with his own hands, but he sure as hell grabbed Lana and shoved her into a wall.

He’s a violent abuser.

And yet somehow, I convinced my overprotective, control-freak boyfriend to let me face him—against his better judgment.

My need for vengeance and closure outweighs self-preservation. Maybe deep down, I need to prove that I still have my agency despite being Kai’s sub.

Kai understood that, too. It was there, clear as day, in his eyes—he knew he’d lose me if he didn’t let me do this.

Which is why I can’t fuck this up.

So, despite my legs feeling like Jell-O and my heart racing like a runaway train, I’d better pull this off.

The car slows in front of Primal Fit’s imposing three-story structure.

Glass walls gleam, showcasing rows of cardio machines like trophies. It’s sleek. Polished. Overkill for a town this small.

And suddenly, I get it. David didn’t build this for the locals.

He built it to stand out—just like Kai’s gyms in every major city. But David wouldn’t survive in L.A., let alone New York or Vegas—he’d vanish into the woodwork.

Valencia, though? It makes him a big fish in a tiny, shallow pond.

And now, with my kids' classes pulling trust-fund babies into Primal Fit for weekly dick-measuring contests with the local small-town meatheads, there’s a steady stream of clients, plus Alan Thorne’s proposal is about to put him on the state’s radar.

I was the secret weapon.

As much as he loves it, he hates knowing his success still traces back to Kai—through me.

Ash pulls away without a word, the Uber sticker still slapped onto the side of his car like this is just another weekday drop-off.

Game time.

I drag in a breath. Then another. No backing out now.

The sharp tang of sweat and rubber mats hits me the moment I step into Primal Fit.

Bass-heavy pop music throbs through the speakers, vibrating through the floor.

Don’t look for Vin. Don’t look for Vin.

But my eyes betray me anyway, flicking toward the weight section, scanning for the neon purple Kai said he’d be wearing—deep undercover in plain sight.

Jace, the receptionist, glances up from the front desk, fingers flying across his keyboard.

"Hey, Nic!"

"Hey.” I force my voice light and easy. "Is David with anyone?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, he’s free. He’s been expecting you."

Of course he has.

I flash a brittle smile and head toward David’s office, forcing myself to keep my steps casual. Normal. Like I’m not walking straight into the lion’s den.

And then—the worst happens.

My mind blanks.

Every carefully rehearsed angle, every mental bullet point—gone.

Perfect. I’m about to wing it with a possible murderer.

I square my shoulders and push the door open.

David is bent over his desk, flipping through a stack of papers.

His iced coffee glistens with condensation, resting on a coaster like he actually cares about water rings.

He looks exactly like the kind of man you’d trust. Boy-next-door features—square jaw, neatly styled dark hair, clear blue eyes that hold just the right amount of warmth.

Clean-shaven. Polished. Safe. His fitted Primal Fit T-shirt clings to broad shoulders and strong arms—athletic, but not intimidating.

He looks like the guy who’d coach Little League. The one every mom in town bakes extra brownies for.

His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he glances up. "Nic. Great! You’re here early."

"Traffic was light.” I sit, keeping my hands in my lap, as if I don’t want him to see how badly they’re trembling.

One nerve-wracking minute of one-sided small talk, during which time I’ve determined the deadliest thing in here is the dumbbell paperweight on his desk, David slides the contract toward me.

He plucks a pen from the dozen in the cupholder.

"This deal is really good, Nic. Way better than I was expecting. Al’s thrown in a few more sweeteners. Now, if you’d like to take time to go through—"

I shake my head and take the pen from him with a shaky hand, trying to scrawl my signature.

The first letter is a jagged mess. The second, worse. The third stroke is crooked, uneven—like I’m learning to write all over again. "Um. S–Sorry."

David’s head tilts slightly.

I can feel his eyes on me, feel his anticipation building to unbearable heights as I stall—but also his reluctant concern.

Come on, David.

I wipe my palm against my thigh, pick up the pen again, and risk a glance up.

David is studying me, a faint wrinkle pulling between his brows.

"Nic, are you okay?"

I want to sob in relief.

"I—” My voice cracks. I swallow hard and try again, softer this time. "Honestly? I don’t know."

His hand lands over mine. The contact makes my skin crawl, but the pressure reassures him that he has my full attention.

"Hey. Talk to me. What’s going on?"

I pull my hand free and hug my arms to my chest, letting my shoulders slump. "It’s . . . Kai, actually."

His jaw flexes, but his smile stays intact. "What about him?"

I lower my gaze like I’m ashamed and let out a trembling breath. "I don’t know if you’ve heard—if Lana told you—but I broke things off with him yesterday."

A beat of silence.

David’s reaction is almost imperceptible, but I catch the twitch at the corner of his mouth before he smooths it away. "No, I didn’t hear. That’s . . . a surprise. You both seemed pretty set on each other. Why did you break up?"

"I found out some . . . pretty wild things. And he didn’t deny them."

He leans forward, blue eyes fixed on me. "Like what?"

I swallow hard, forcing my throat to work visibly. "That his exes . . . they . . .” My voice drops to a whisper. "They died under mysterious circumstances."

David leans back in his chair and lets out a heavy sigh—like he’s been waiting for this conversation all his life.

"Did you know?” I ask.

"Of course, I did."

The way he says it—so smooth, so matter-of-fact—sends an ice pick of dread through my chest.

"Kai destroys women,” he says, like he’s confiding a bitter truth. "He draws them in, gets into their heads, and then empties them of substance. And hollow people?” His head tilts slightly. "They break easily."

"But you—” My voice quivers. I let my hands shake as I gesture weakly at him. "You could’ve said something. Warned me. I thought you cared about me."

David lets out a low, bitter chuckle. "I tried to warn each one of them. But they never listen. Why do you think I hated seeing you with him?"

I drop my gaze to my lap, curling my fingers into fists, forcing my shoulders to hunch like I’m crumbling under the weight of this revelation. Then, I glance up. "So the crow feathers . . . was that you warning me?"

His eyes narrow. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Forgive me, David. I just think your logic is a little warped . . .” I let my voice tremble as I hold his gaze. "If Kai is that much of a monster, if he did all those horrible things . . .” I swallow. "Why didn’t you just kill him instead? Why Sara? Why Cass? Why Elena?"

Bingo.

His jaw locks. A flash of something dark and raw flares behind his eyes.

For one beat, I think I’ve nailed it. But then—he chuckles. "Is that the bullshit Kai fed you? That I killed those women?"

I drop all forced pretense and snarl. "Kai has no clue about what you did or how you did it. I, on the other hand, lived with the Aldridges for fifteen years. I know all about CX3, David."

He goes still.

I continue. "I know you own that warehouse on Dresden Road."

His smile vanishes.

"And I know that you custom-order CX3 every quarter. In liquid form."

A muscle jumps in his jaw. For a moment, he looks genuinely caught.

But then he leans back, his chair creaking beneath his weight. "Wow. I’m impressed by how dirty you play, Nic. But I have to ask—” His head tilts, mockery thick in his voice. "What exactly did you imagine would happen? That you’d waltz in here, throw around some housewife’s gossip, and try to blackmail me?"

"I honestly didn’t think beyond nailing the son of a bitch who murdered my step-sister,” I spit.

For the first time, he visibly pales.

"Cass,” I say, twisting the knife. "I thought Kai killed her, so I kept tabs on him. And those tabs led me right to you.” A pause. "The feathers helped, though. The red ink was a nice touch. Real fucking theatrical."

His jaw is stone now. "You know what your problem is, Nic? You’re too fixated on the past,” he murmurs, voice calm—too calm. "You should be more worried about what’s going to happen now. Right this moment."

The shift in the air is suffocating.

"What, you’re going to poison me too?” I scoff, looking around the room. "Drown me somehow?"

David smiles evilly. "No. I’m going to do something else. Something so beautiful it rivals everything he’s ever done to me."

He lifts a hand, finger pointing lazily toward the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

My stomach free-falls.

"All my life I’ve had to watch him perform. Now, Kai will get to watch me."

Oh, fuck. "You’re insane—"

He lunges.

One second, I’m sitting, the next, his hand is fisting the front of my T-shirt and yanking me forward.

And then—BAM.

I’m slammed face-first into the desk, the unforgiving wood cracking against my cheekbone. For a moment, I’m stunned, stars exploding behind my eyes. I can’t speak. I can’t move.

When the buzzing in my head clears, I find his hand clamped the back of my neck, grinding my cheek into the cold surface as he rounds the desk and comes over my back.

Before I can do more than suck in a breath, the collar of my T-shirt tightens, then gives with a savage rip.

Fabric tears and cool air rushes against my back.

He freezes, and I know he’s found it.

The wire.

Hope flickers, then dies.

"I fucking knew it.” He yanks the mic clean off and crushes it beneath his foot. "How stupid do you think I am, bitch?"

He flips me over and shoves me against the desk. The back of my head cracks against the wood, the burst of pain blinding.

I claw at his face, nails raking skin, feeling it tear beneath my fingertips. Hot blood spatters my cheek just as his fist connects with my jaw.

Everything spins. Sound warps—high-pitched, distorted—like I’m underwater. "Enough!” I rasp, my heart lurching in panic.

But the mic is gone. Kai can’t hear me anymore. Vin is outside, only poised to act if David tries to take me toward the poolside.

I’m fucked.

My scream for help is cut off by David’s hand around my throat. His face is close now—too close—his breath hot against my temple.

“That door is soundproof,” he whispers. “No one can hear you.”

I buck against him. “You’ll never get away with this,” I choke out.

His laugh is guttural. “I don’t want to. I’m sick of him coming back up for air. This time, I want to break him completely.”

A rough hand closes around my throat as rougher fingers dig into my waistband. The material of my pants rip under his savage yanks.

“Get off me!” I squeak, spitting and scratching at his arm and bucking hard—but he only forces my knees further apart, and tosses the shredded remains of my pants over his shoulder.

Suddenly, he throws back his head and cackles like a maniac. “Oh, what have we got here? Looks like you’re all gnarly and fucked up.” His fingers tighten painfully on my scars as he stares.

“Christ, I knew it! I just knew there had to be something grotesque about you, otherwise that sick bastard wouldn’t be so obsessed.”

“Fuck you!” I whimper past my burning throat.

“Hey, don’t feel bad, Nic. He likes you like this. Did you know, he’s never looked at any other woman the way he looks at you? His eyes light up. Like you’re his entire world,” David snickers.

“Imagine him now, getting front row seats to view his own destruction—the way he forced me to view mine. Fucking poetic justice.”

His hand tightens around my throat, crushing the air out of me, and all I can do is claw at his wrist—futile, slippery with sweat—as I hear the sickening sound of his zipper.

Think. Move. Do something, Nic!

But my arms feel like lead pipes, and the need to breathe outweighs everything else. A dark fog blooms behind my eyes as my vision narrows to the flush of arousal on his face.

“Now, have you ever heard the term fucked to death, Nic?” David snarls. The press of his hard cock against the crotch of my panties detonates something inside me.

Pure rage explodes in my skull—or maybe it’s the lack of oxygen—and I gather all the strength I have left, clawing at his bloody face again.

I miss—but it’s enough to make him rear back, and his grip slips from my throat to my collarbone. It’s just enough for me to suck in a desperate, ragged breath.

And with the blessed rush of oxygen comes another jolt of energy.

I throw my hands wide, fingers scrabbling across the cluttered desk, blindly searching—praying—for something. The dumbbell paperweight. The mug of iced coffee. Anything.

Papers scatter under my fingers. The cup of pens crashes to the floor. Something heavy rolls out of reach and ends with a dull thud on the floor.

The paperweight. Shit. That was my chance. My only chance .

And now—

David’s grip finds my neck and tightens again, crushing the air I’d clawed back. My vision blurs just as my fingers close around something cool and thin.

A pen? It might as well be a sword for the hope that ignites inside me, because I feel him pulling at the crotch of my panties.

It’s now or never.

I stop thinking, and I drive it upward with all my might.

There’s a sharp, in-drawn breath—his or mine, I can’t tell—then his hand spasms on my throat. Tightening. Then loosening. His shocked gaze collides with mine a second before air rushes into my lungs.

Then—

A deafening crash as the door explodes inward, slamming against the wall with bone-rattling force.

A roar rips through the haze.

David’s suffocating weight disappears.

Shouts crowd my head, overlapping—some deep, some sharp—all of them crowding inside my skull, sending out bolts of lightning sharp pain.

Along with the suddenly too-much air in my lungs. It’s overwhelming.

I almost sigh in relief when it all fades to nothing.