Page 87 of The Colour of Revenge

Something inside me coils tight. “Is this because of what I said this morning?” My voice is sharper than I mean it to be, but I can’t help it.

“No!” she protests quickly, the word bursting out of her. “It’s not that.”

She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. “I just… I feel like my plans are spiralling out of my control. I need to do this one by myself.”

I hate that I understand what she’s saying. I hate that she’s right. But it still hurts. Not just because I want to protect her, to be there for her, but because I need to be part of the justice she’s handing out. It’s a compulsion I can’t shake, a constant buzz beneath my skin.

Still, for her, I’ll push that need aside. I’d never deny her anything.

“Okay,” I say, my voice steady even as my chest tightens. “But if you need anything—anything at all—you let me know.”

Her lips curve into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Nate.”

A heavy lump settles in my chest, but I shove it down. She needs this, and that’s all that matters.

For now.

22

I Won’t Cry For Him

Hypothetical Question: Would you rather forget about yourself or forget about someone else?

Carina

Doc M:It’s completely understandable that you might feel wary, or unsure of your feelings. Do not be too hard on yourself. Tell me: how do you feel about him?

Carina:I like him a lot. He shows me constantly that he would do anything to make me happy, to protect me.

Doc M:Is there anything stopping you from loving him?

Carina:I just don’t know if what I’m feeling is love.

Doc M:Usually, I’d say love is something you just know. But I get why you might be confused by your feelings.

Carina:How do I unconfuse them?

Doc M:You give it time. You’ll figure it out.Listen to your heart.

Irollmyeyesat Doctor Morgan’s words.You’ll figure it out.For once, I think she might actually be wrong.

How can you figure out whether you love someone when you’ve never truly seen what love looks like?

Mum left when I was still a baby, so I never knew her. But given her ability to leave her child with a monster—and I know she knew what he was like, he doesn’t exactly hide it—I don’t think she would have been a good role model for love.

Obviously, my father never loved me.

So how do I know what it looks like? How it feels?

The closest I think I’ve come is my grandfather. My mother's father. Grandpa Rossetti was the one who first taught me Italian. Maybe he loved me. But he died when I was seven, so my memories are a little jumbled.

I push the thoughts of Nate’s confession aside for now.

My plans for Edward need to be airtight. There’s so much that could go wrong—not just because of how wealthy he is, but because of what I did.

When I fled to Italy, I had nothing—no money, no safety net. Desperation forced my hand.

I hired Enzo—not just to erase my existence but to do something far riskier.