Page 82 of The Colour of Revenge

I'm here, playing backup with Kai, watching from a distance in case things go sideways. Not that I don't trust her—she's got this. But also, I'm a possessive bastard, and the idea of her being anywhere near that monster makes my skin crawl.

She's been on edge all day, tension locked in her shoulders, her usual sharp comebacks dulled. But she strode in here with her chin up, looking like a sexy vixen. Now? She looks composed, every movement calculated. Carina sits across from Carmichael, her expression unreadable, legs crossed like she owns the place. Like he's not the man who once shattered her. Like he’s just another rich guy with a bad haircut. It’s awe-inspiring. And also terrifying.

The dinner drags on, a slow burn of small talk and subtle power plays. I clock every twitch of Carmichael's fingers, the way his gaze lingers too long on her. The plan is simple: plant paranoia, make him sweat, and then let him spiral into his fears before we wipe him off the map. Later, we’ll tie it all up with a bow and make him “disappear,” with a fake paper trail that suggests he fled the country. Easy. Smooth. Just another Tuesday.

They stand.

I follow at a safe distance, blending into the shadows. But something's wrong. She was supposed to split off and come back to me. Instead, she keeps walking with him, turning down a dimly lit street. No CCTV. My pulse spikes.

What the fuck is she doing?

Carmichael grabs her, slamming her against the wall.

I see red.

Full-on raging bull, ready to gut him. I’m halfway to breaking the sound barrier when Kai, the ninja, gets there first and knocks him out cold.Show-off.

Carina stands frozen, her breath ragged. Her fingers curl into fists like she's holding herself together by sheer force of will. I reach her in seconds, yanking her into my arms.

She's shaking. Fuck.

"What happened?" My voice is low and steady, even as my rage burns white-hot beneath the surface.

"I don't know. I think… I think he recognised me." Her voice is small, almost distant.

I tighten my grip, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I've got you," I murmur. And I mean it. I'll always have her.

For a second, she lets herself lean into me. Then, just like that, she's pulling back, shaking off the moment, steel snapping back into her spine. "I'm good. Let's end this."

God, I love this woman.

Kai glances at Carmichael's limp body. "Watch him. I'll get the car."

I toss him my keys, then turn back to Carina. Her top is barely there, and even though it was part of the plan, I hate it. Hate that Kai saw her like this. Hate that Carmichael laid eyes on her at all. Hell, I hate that the bloody moon got a glimpse.

She's mine.

Shrugging off my hoodie, I drape it over her shoulders, tugging the hood up like I can shield her from the world. She looks up at me, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. I press a quick kiss to her nose.

When I lean in, I drop my voice just for her. "Let's get this over with so I can take you home and fuck you so hard you forget any name but mine."

Her cheeks flush, and my grin could rival the Cheshire Cat's.It's the little wins.

Kai pulls up, and we work fast—Carmichael gets shoved into the boot, and the tyres roll over the pavement as we disappear into the night.

He stirs in the boot, groggy, dazed. A low groan seeps through the metal.

"Shh," I whisper, knocking twice on the back seat. "No one likes a whiny hostage."

Carina lets out a breathy laugh, but there's no humour in it. Just anticipation.

Kai drags the now-squirming Carmichael into the dimly lit building—my murder cabin. The mood is dark, intense. Romantic, even. I glance at Carina, thinking,If Kai wasn’t here, this could totally count as a date night.

Here's the thing: I never thought I'd enjoy something more than the thrill of the hunt—tracking, eliminating, feeling the life drain from someone who deserves it.

But now? Now all I want is to go home with her, order a takeaway, and watch a terrible rom-com I’ll pretend to hate while secretly rooting for the quirky best friend. That’s my dream. When did that happen?

Still, business first.