Page 118 of The Colour of Revenge

I'm still searching for it when the world explodes.

The gun slams into my skull, a sickening crack splitting through my mind like a bolt of lightning. Pain detonates behind my eyes, white-hot and blinding.

The last thing I hear before the darkness swallows me whole—

Carina's muffled scream.

28

Because You’re Mine

Hypothetical Question: If you could swap bodies with anyone for 24 hours, what’s the most chaotic thing you’d do?

Carina

Myheartpoundsinmy chest, each beat louder than the last as the two men circle me, their eyes cold and calculating. My knives flash in the air, slicing through the space between us, but they’re too fast, too coordinated. Every time I strike, they dodge, like they know exactly what I’m going to do before I do it.

Then, a sharp tug from behind—before I can react, a bag is shoved over my head. Panic surges through me, and I cry out, "Nate!" My voice is swallowed by the fabric, my breath shallow and ragged.

My knives slip from my hands as they’re wrenched away, and I try to fight back, kicking out with every ounce of strength I have left.

But there are too many of them. Closing in from every direction, their hands grabbing at me, pinning me in place. I can't see them, but I can feel them—fingers digging into my skin, pulling me in different directions, suffocating me.

Everyone else—every other man who’s tried to hurt me—has been easy. I’ve torn through them without hesitation, with a fury they couldn’t match. But this? This is different. This feels like the real fight.

This isharder.

This is losing.

My feet leave the ground. Someone scoops me up, their grip iron-tight around my torso, pulling me against their chest, trapping me. My breath comes in short, desperate gasps.

“Stop fighting,” a low voice rumbles in my ear. The words send a chill down my spine, like he knows exactly how to break me.

"Nate!" I scream again, but my voice is still muffled by the sack, my throat raw from the effort.

A hand slaps over my mouth, silencing me. Desperation claws at my chest. Without thinking, I bite down hard, my teeth sinking into the flesh of the hand that covers my mouth.

The arms holding me loosen just enough—just enough for me to take action.

I kick out—hard. The force makes the man stagger, and finally, he releases me.

But before I can even think about running, another set of hands grips me—stronger, faster, more merciless. Panic floods my veins. I thrash, trying to break free, but it's useless.

And then—pain.

Blinding, searing pain. Something slams into the side of my head, a brutal force that knocks everything from my mind. The world tilts sideways, and I’m falling, spiralling into darkness, the agony consuming me.

Nothing.

Just pain.

And then, nothing.

I wake to a pounding ache in my head, a dull, relentless throb that blurs everything.

My eyes flutter open, the darkness around me suffocating.

Memories crash back into my mind—Nate, the fight, the bag over my head, the cold, the hands—who did this to me?