Page 133 of The Colour of Revenge

Sixty-two days.

One thousand, four hundred, and eighty fucking hours.

And still, nothing.

Carina is gone. Vanished. Erased. And I am losing my mind.

I’ve always been a killer—cold, calculating, the guy you don’t want to see standing over you with a blade. It’s my thing. Or it was. Turns out all that skill is useless when the love of your life is snatched away by the world’s most sadistic family reunion planner. Her father. I’m sure of it. And yet, here I am, sitting in her house, drowning in her daisy-scented ghost like some kind of deranged poet.

I’ve searched. God, have I searched. But Dominic Beckett is careful. Too careful. His house in the city is empty. His country home is locked down tighter than a government security facility. Enzo tells me he can't access the security system unless he's inside. Kai says the same.

There's no signs of activity from him or his associates, nothing that indicate where he's hiding her. Not even Enzo's contacts have been able to help.

He’s made her vanish so effectively she might as well have taken up a side gig as a magician. Meanwhile, I’m here playing detective, assassin, and heartbroken housewife all at once.

I close my eyes and exhale slowly, forcing myself to push back the dark thoughts clawing at my sanity. I can’t let myself think about what she might be enduring, who might be hurting her. The pain of imagining it is paralyzing.

I would tear them apart, piece by piece. Break their bones with my bare hands.

I’ve always cared—always had a reason for what I do, for the lives I take. But this? This is something else entirely. It’s not just caring. It’s desperation. And it’s tearing me apart.

“Nate?” Enzo’s voice snaps me back into the present.

Ah, Enzo. Carina’s friend who flies across the world because he senses the exact level of dysfunction you’re spiralling into. He’s been here ever since she was taken. Though, I’m not stupid enough to believe his presence is only to do with her. He leaves the house for a couple hours each day, always a little non-committal on where he’s going. Clearly some super-secret Mafia shit. I don’t care so long as he stays focused on her too.

There's always guards parked outside the house, watching, as if we're the ones under threat.

He’s been keeping me fed and somewhat functional. It’s like having a terrifying Italian grandmother with a knife collection.

I haven’t killed anyone in months. I want to. God, do I want to. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch. But all my focus is on Carina. On getting her back. It’s the only thing that matters.

And truthfully, I don’t want to do it without her. It’s not the same anymore.

“What?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend.

“When was the last time you ate,assassino?” Enzo asks, his tone almost teasing.

“Why the fuck does it matter?” I shoot him a glare, narrowing my eyes.

He holds my gaze, unblinking, until I finally sigh in defeat. “I don’t know. What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Then it was probably yesterday. Whenever you made that beef thing.” I wave my hand dismissively.

“That was Sunday!” he exclaims.

My stomach growls in protest, as if to remind me just how long it’s been since I’ve bothered to eat. I don’t even think about it anymore. Unless Enzo’s around, forcing me to sit and eat whatever Italian masterpiece he’s cooked up, food slips my mind entirely. It’s not intentional—it’s just that other things occupy my head more than my hunger does.

“Eat.” Enzo shoves a plate of risotto in front of me. It’s probably delicious, but I don’t even taste it. Food has become just another task, like breathing or pretending I’m okay.

Once the plate is empty, I push it aside, my gaze drifting back to the scattered sheets in front of me. Every bit of information I’ve gathered is written here. And yet, it all boils down to one thing: nada. Nothing. Fuck all.

“Have you found anything?” I ask, my voice raw and cracked as I glance up at Enzo.

He sinks onto the couch beside me, his hand landing on my shoulder in a rare gesture of comfort. His smile is warm, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “Not yet.”

I scrub my face with a shaky hand, frustration clawing at me. Enzo is the best in the business. He made Carina vanish from the internet and helped her steal Edward’s fortune. The man is part of the goddamn Mafia, for Christ’s sake. If even he can’t find a trace of her, maybe it’s time to accept the truth: I might never find her.