Page 152 of The Colour of Revenge

His words should comfort me, should anchor me back to the present, but instead, they just feel like echoes. The storm inside me rages on, relentless and unforgiving.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” I whisper, the confession tearing through me like a knife.

“You’re still Carina,” Nate says, his voice unwavering. "The girl who fought her way back from hell. The woman who refused to break. You’re still her, even if you don’t believe it right now."

His words don’t fix everything. They don’t erase the violence or the blood, or the feeling of being adrift. But they give me something to hold onto. Something to anchor me as I try to find my way out of this storm.

Nate

“We need to clean up and cover up this mess.”

Carina shakes in my arms, silent sobs still wracking her small frame. Her fingers clutch at my shirt like she’s afraid to let go. I stroke her back, my gaze flicking up to Kai. His face is unreadable, but his mind is already moving, calculating the best way to cover this up.

“What’s the play?” I ask.

Kai exhales sharply, eyes scanning the blood-slick floor, the mangled bodies, the destruction we’ve left behind. “We clean up enough to throw off suspicion, but not too much. Make it sloppy. Like a hit gone wrong.” His voice is flat, detached in the way only a man familiar with covering up death can be.

Enzo nods, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll handle the digital trail. Scrub their records, erase any connections. We need to make sure no one traces this back.”

I tighten my grip on Carina before carefully lowering her to a nearby chair. “Stay here, Princess,” I murmur. She doesn’t respond. Just stares ahead, lost in something I can’t reach.

Carina’s sobs start to quiet, but I can feel the tremors still wracking through her. She’s been through hell, and no amount of revenge can fix the damage that was done to her. But I’m here now. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her ever again.

“I’ll handle the blood,” I say, voice low.

Kai gives a curt nod. “We’re not leaving a single fucking trace.”

We move quickly, working in silence. Every sound feels too loud—every breath, every scrape, every shuffle. The blood on the floor is darkening and thickening now, and I focus on scrubbing it up, but it’s not just on the floor—it’s everywhere, seeping into cracks and clinging to our skin.

Kai and Enzo stage the scene. They tip over furniture, scatter items, and make it look rushed and unfinished. It seems like the person who did this wasn’t careful, like they left in a panic.

Enzo hacks into the security system, scrubbing footage and opening the front gates.

Carina doesn’t speak, but she moves with us. Silent, mechanical, her hands wiping down surfaces, her expression unreadable. She doesn’t flinch when her fingers smear through blood.

I watch her for a second, my chest tightening. This isn’t just a shock. This is something else.

“Almost done,” Enzo mutters, giving the room one last sweep. His movements are precise, but there’s tension in his shoulders.

“Are we good?” I ask, looking at Kai.

Kai steps back, surveying the scene. It looks believable. It's not perfect, but it's close enough to throw the police off the real story.

He nods. “It’ll hold.”

I cross the room, crouching in front of Carina. Her hands are stained red, and her breath is shallow. I take her hands in mine, running my thumb over the slick warmth of her knuckles.

“It’s over,” I whisper. “We’re done. And we move forward. Together.”

She doesn’t speak. But she grips my hands tighter, just for a second. And that’s enough.

We’ve survived this, and we’ll survive whatever comes next.

41

I Was Never Here

Hypothetical Question: Never be able to lie again, or every word you say is a lie?