Page 25 of The Colour of Revenge

Murder.

I tell myself it's just a means to an end, but deep down, I know better. There's a thrill in it. A satisfaction that lingers long after the blood is gone. A need I've stopped trying to justify.

My father doesn't see it—won't see it.He only sees what I'm not. The son who refuses to take over his empire. The disappointment of choosing a good fight over a boardroom. If he knew the truth—if he knew what I do—I wonder if he'd finally look at me like I belonged.

Kai understands, though. He works alongside me in Haven and hunts those who deserve my brand of justice. We've bled together and survived together. There's an unspoken understanding between us—we do what needs to be done.

But sometimes, I wonder if he even knows how much I crave it.

How easy it would be to lose myself in it completely.

Not that I'll ever admit that to him.

I turn my attention back to my phone as another message buzzes in.

Queen Carina:What's your biggest irrational fear?

Daddy Death:Running out of coffee. You?

However, the real answer is the thought of not seeing her again. The idea settles in my gut like a lead weight, but I shove it aside before it can root itself too deep.

Queen Carina:Those little holes in showerheads. They're creepy.

Daddy Death:…What??

Queen Carina:You asked.

Daddy Death:I feel like I just unlocked a weird level of you.

Queen Carina:Congrats. It gets weirder.

I snort, earning a few curious glances from the employees scattered throughout the office. My focus narrows as I weave between desks, offering quick nods of acknowledgement. The office hum—clicking keyboards and muted conversations—fades into the background. For a moment, I forget where I am.

When I enter my office, Kai is already there, lounging in my chair like he owns the place. The sight is familiar, a throwback to the early days when we were just kids with too much ambition and too little restraint. He'd pull this same shit back then—sneaking into my office to piss me off.

"Get the fuck up, twat," I say, rolling my eyes but unable to smother the smirk threatening my lips.

Kai barely spares me a glance. "Is that any way to talk to your best friend and partner in crime?" He crosses his arms, tossing a newspaper onto my desk, making no effort to move.

"You're a prick, you know that?" I shoot back.

He grins. "How's Carina?"

Her name is a sucker punch to the chest. Heat creeps up my spine, memories flashing behind my eyes—the sharp glint in hers when she talks about revenge, her laughter sparking something dangerous inside me. I tell myself it's nothing. Just a fascination.

"She's good." I shrug, forcing nonchalance, though my pulse betrays me.

Kai doesn't buy it for a second. "Seen her since the other night?"

It's been a week. A week since we helped her clean up after her latest victim. A week since I last saw her, felt the weight of her gaze like a brand against my skin. Kai knows damn well I haven't seen her, considering she's all I ever talk about.

The memory lingers, the satisfaction of doing something right almost overshadowed by the unspoken connection I feel with her. The way she looked at me then... It haunts me.

Like she saw something in me worth keeping.

"No, but we text every day," I admit, not bothering to hide the grin stretching across my face.

Kai raises an eyebrow, leaning forward with a knowing glint in his eyes. "You like her."