Page 143 of The Colour of Revenge

Unlike my father, Lucian never kept guards on hand to keep me locked in. He didn’t have to. He was always watching. The one time I even attempted leaving, I got one toe on the stairs when the alarm started blaring. He had the place set up so he would always know my next move. Most of the time, he confined me to my room, letting me out only when convenient for him.

I throw open the door and launch myself into his arms without hesitation. His strong hands grip my thighs, lifting me easily as he carries me inside. The familiar scent of him—spiced clove and cedarwood—grounds me in the chaos.

He sets me down gently when we reach Lucian’s body, his gaze locking onto it with a cold, satisfied smile.

“You did good, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of pride and something darker.

Before I can respond, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.“Fucking hell,bella.”

I spin around, untangling myself from Nate’s hold, and practically fling myself at Enzo. His arms wrap around me in a warm, steady embrace.

"You shouldn't be here," I whisper, pulling back just enough to see his face.

"Nate called me after you were taken." His is tone soft but laced with an edge of protectiveness. "I've been here ever since.”

“But your father—”

“I’ve been working remotely,bella. You’re more important.”

I squeeze him tightly again then glance at Nate.

My chest tightens.

He shrugs like it's nothing.

But it's everything.

Nate's gaze meets mine hard. Unyielding.

"Your father has to die," he states flatly.

I exhale. Then smile.

"Then let's finish this."

“We need to get this party moving, people,” Kai says, stepping into the house. I see his hint of relief in his eyes as he takes me in. His smile is friendly but fleeting as he shifts into business mode, the air around him turning sharp and efficient. “There’s a media circus camped outside the gates, all hoping for a glance at the ‘happy couple’.” Her wrinkles his nose at his last words.

“First, we clean this up,” Nate says, his voice steady and measured as if discussing a business deal rather than disposing of a body. “Keep it quiet for as long as possible. That buys us more time to plan.”

Enzo takes over, issuing orders like a general. He cracks his knuckles. "I'll take care of logistics. Nate, you're on grave duty with Kai. Carina, you’re with me—we’ll handle the blood."

No one questions Enzo’s authority.

We get to work.

The hours drag. Every second is marked by the sharp scent of bleach and the rhythmic scrape of brushes against the tile. My arms ache, and my fingers are raw from scrubbing. Blood is stubborn, seeping into every crevice and staining the grout.

Lucian is buried six feet under, a fresh animal carcass layered on top to throw off any suspicion.

By the time we finish, the entrance hall gleams under the harsh light, but the scent of chemicals clings to the air like a ghost.

We gather in the study.

The rich, dark wood panelling absorbs the weight of what we've done and about to do.

Kai sits at the desk, his leg jumping up and down anxiously. Enzo perches on the arm of an old leather chair, idly twirling his blade, the silver catching the light. His movements are too practised, too smooth.

How many times has he done this before?