24

I Want Revenge

Hypothetical Question: If you could commit the perfect crime but had to pin it on someone else, who would you pick?

Nate

Carina has been holed up in her house with another man for three days. Three agonising days of silence, rage, and barely contained violence. I've watched them through the gaps in her curtains, my nails digging into my palms as they move around each other with the kind of ease that comes from history. From trust.

From something that should never fucking exist between them.

I don't know who he is. But I know enough. He shouldn't be there.

My fingers twitch at my sides. The urge to rip the door off its hinges and drag him out by his throat is suffocating. But I don't. Because I'm not reckless. Because I know Carina. And I know that whatever game she's playing, she expects me to lash out.

So, I wait. I play along. I message her daily, carefully crafting my words and keeping my tone easy. I let her think I believe her lies and that I'm giving her space.

That I'm not planning my next move.

Because something is wrong, and it's not just the man in her house. It's the way she's shut me out.

The way she's disappeared into herself like she's hiding something.

I don't just want answers.

I want revenge.

I just haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with her. Because even now, even after she’s ripped my fucking heart out and stomped all over it, I love her.

Goddamn it, I still love her.

I want this to be some fucked-up nightmare I’ll wake up from. I want her to tell me this is all part of the game. That we’re still in this together. Because I don’t want to do it without her anymore.

To be unhinged killers together—that’s what I thought we were. That’s what I thought we had.

My phone buzzes, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts. I glance at the screen.

Sperm Doner: I’m stopping by your apartment later.

My pulse spikes. What the fuck? He never visits.

I type out a response, my fingers shaking with a mix of anger and unease.

Nate: Why?

The three dots appear. Then vanish. Then reappear. I grit my teeth, hating the way he plays these little power games.

Sperm Doner: Just be ready.

Ominous.

I stare at the message, my blood boiling. Be ready for what?

Christ .

I throw my phone onto the couch and start pacing my top-floor apartment. The place feels unfamiliar now, cold and lifeless, like it belongs to someone else. I’ve barely spent any time here since Carina pulled me into her life, and now the absence of her presence is suffocating.

I stop at the window, looking out over the city. My jaw tightens as I think of her, as I picture her with that man, laughing, plotting—doing God knows what. My blood ignites.

I have to get ahead of this. She thinks she can shut me out? Fine. I’ll let her think that. Let her think she’s got the upper hand.

But Carina doesn’t realise who she’s playing with.

I know her better than anyone else. I know how she thinks, how she operates. And I’m going to use that against her.

Because no one—no one—shuts me out and gets away with it.

I grab my phone and type out another message to her, my lips curving into a twisted smile. Time to remind her who I am.

Daddy Death: Still thinking about you. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.

I hit send, the words a careful mask for the fury bubbling beneath the surface.

Let her think I’m patient. Let her think I’m waiting for her.

But the truth is, I’m done waiting.

She has no fucking idea what's coming.

At exactly eight, a sharp, deliberate knock echoes through my apartment, shattering the silence.

I yank the door open.

My father stands there.

His presence alone sets my teeth on edge, and I step aside begrudgingly, the tension between us almost suffocating.

“What’s this about?” I snap, skipping any pretence of politeness.

“Me?” He raises a brow, feigning innocence. “You invited me here. Said you wanted to talk about finally stepping up with the company.”

My jaw tightens as anger bubbles just beneath the surface. “No, I didn’t. You messaged me. Said you were coming over.”

His eyes narrow, a flicker of confusion breaking through his usual composure. “You really didn’t invite me here?”

A voice cuts through the room.

"No."

Cold. Sharp. Familiar.

Carina.

She steps forward, a shadow peeling away from the darkness, her presence electric. Her face is unreadable. But her eyes? Her eyes burn.

And she's not alone.

He's with her. The man from the house. The one who's been living in my fucking place.

My blood fucking boils. The sight of them together is a knife to the gut, twisting deeper with every second.

“Carina,” I growl, my voice low and tight, barely containing the fury surging through me. “What the hell is this?” Then I add, “I thought you were sick,” so she doesn’t realise just how much I’ve stalked her this week.

“It’s you who’s sick, Nate,” she spits, her tone drenched in venom. The sound of my name from her lips cuts deeper than it should.

I take a step forward, my fists curling at my sides. “What are you talking about?”

Before she can respond, my father shifts uneasily beside me. His entire posture changes, tension rippling through him as realisation dawns.

He bolts for the door, but the man at Carina’s side is faster. He shoves my father back into the room with a blade glinting in his hand.

“ Non pensarci nemmeno, cazzo 7 ,” he snarls, his words unfamiliar but his threat crystal clear.

I lunge toward them, but Carina’s sharp voice stops me in my tracks.

“ Legateli 8 ,” she commands, her tone steely and authoritative.

Before I can react, she’s on me, zip-tying my wrists with precision and efficiency. Her hands, once soft and gentle, now bite into me with brutal force.

I yank against them, but the plastic doesn't budge.

“Carina,” I growl, my voice a dangerous warning, but she doesn’t even flinch.

Moments later, I’m shoved into a chair alongside my father, my body straining against the restraints. My fury burns hot and relentless.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarl, the words ripping from my throat like a beast unleashed.

Carina doesn't even look at me.

Instead, my father speaks, his voice eerily calm. “Naomi.”

The name slithers through the air like a curse.

He says her name with a familiarity that sends my mind reeling. It’s not just recognition—it’s history.

Wait.

Naomi?

How does he—

“Edward,” she replies coldly, her tone dripping with contempt.

My stomach knots, a sickening realisation clawing its way to the surface.

“You know each other?” I demand, my voice cutting through the tension. My eyes dart between them.

He doesn't even look at me. He doesn't acknowledge me at all.

“My son’s not involved in this,” he insists, ignoring me completely. “You can let him go.”

I whip my head toward him, disbelief crashing over me like a tidal wave. Not involved? What the hell is he talking about?

“How noble of you, Edward,” Carina scoffs, her bitter laugh slicing through the air. “But you and I both know he’s as much a part of this as you are.”

“He isn’t,” my father insists, his voice firm but desperate. “Naomi, I swear to you, he doesn’t know. Let’s just talk, me and you.” Again, with her old name.

"Stop talking in fucking riddles! What is going on?" I seethe, but neither of them acknowledges me.

What am I missing here?

Her eyes narrow, doubt flickering across her face for just a moment before her expression hardens again.

“You want me to believe this is all just some kind of coincidence?” she snaps, her voice cutting like a whip.

My patience snaps. I lean forward as far as the restraints allow, my voice dropping into a low growl. “What the fuck is going on? Someone tell me. Right now.”

Carina turns to me, her expression a storm of anger and something deeper—something darker.

“You played me,” she spits, her words laced with venom.

I stare at her, the accusation slamming into me like a freight train. “What?” I shake my head, disbelief etched across my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice softens, a desperate edge creeping into my tone as I search her eyes. “You know me. You know me .”

Her composure cracks. A scream tears from her throat, so full of pain and fury that it shakes me to my fucking core.

"STOP THE ACT!"

My whole body goes still.

Her words hit me like a physical blow. For a moment, I see the pain beneath her rage, the flicker of something that still ties us together.

It’s fucked up, but that glimmer of emotion settles something in me. She still feels something for me.

Even if it’s hatred.

But then, something sharp and unfamiliar buries itself in my gut for the first time.

Fear.

I swallow it down. Keep my voice steady. “Tell me what it is you think I did.”

“You’re working with him,” she snaps, her voice trembling. “It’s the only explanation.”

The words drop between us like a lit match on gasoline.

A slow, sharp exhale escapes me, followed by a bitter laugh. “You know I don’t want anything to do with his fucking company!”

Her voice breaks, the fury in her tone giving way to something more fragile.

“He’s the sixth man!”

The world tilts.

My breath catches.

The room blurs and fades.

And then—like pieces snapping into place—it all comes crashing down.

Carina

Nate’s expression falters for only a moment, but I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. The devastation he’s putting on is almost convincing—almost. The disbelief in his gaze isn’t the kind I expected, and it shakes me for a brief second.

But I can’t let it fool me.

No. He’s a master at manipulation. This is all part of his game.

He looks at me as if waiting for me to break, but I don’t. His eyes flicker to Edward, who remains eerily calm, sitting back with a relaxed posture, like he’s watching the show unfold before him.

“You hurt her?” Nate’s voice comes out like a growl, dark and dangerous, and I can almost feel the fury radiating off him.

Edward’s tone shifts slightly, almost amused, as he tries to placate him. “Nathaniel…”

But Nate doesn’t let up. His eyes never leave Edward’s face. “You bought her?” His words cut through the air with the sharpness of a blade, and there’s nothing but venom in his voice now.

Edward’s eyes flicker, but he stays composed, offering no explanation. The tension is thick enough to choke on.

Nate stares at him for a moment longer, desperation clawing at his insides as if trying to figure out if I’m lying, if I’m manipulating him somehow—but there’s no crack in my facade. No sign of deceit.

Edward finally meets Nate’s gaze, his calmness unnerving. “Nathaniel, you have to understand—”

“Understand?” Nate’s voice rises, incredulous, as the rage builds. “Understand?” he repeats the word, louder again. His words are laced with an unrelenting fury.

"How could you do this?" he whispers, "after what happened to Mel?"

I see it—just a flicker, a crack in Edward’s stoic mask. Nate’s eyes gloss over, and the tears threatening to spill are a clear sign of how deeply this cuts him. But his fury hardens the longer he sits there, and I see the truth in his eyes before he speaks again.

“It was you,” Nate breathes, his voice coming out like a desperate whisper. “You sold her. She was never kidnapped.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s actually telling the truth.

Could he really be this naive?

Could he truly have no idea what his father is capable of?

I glance at Edward, who doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem to care that his son’s world is shattering.

No regret. No shame.

Nothing.

“When you say you want me to take over the family business,” Nate spits, “is that what you really mean? The buying girls business?”

It’s a voice that makes me shudder, the calm of a killer, but the words still manage to make my heart beat faster. I know that tone. And I know what it means.

“No, Nate,” Edward sneers, his words dripping with condescension, “that’s not business.” His gaze roams over my body with barely contained lust. It makes my skin crawl.

Nate loses it.

A low growl rips from his throat, raw and violent, his arms straining against his restraints like he's seconds from tearing the entire room apart.

Edward chuckles.

“Princess.” Nate’s voice softens as he turns back to me, his face pleading, the desperate vulnerability in his eyes raw. “Please. I swear I didn’t know.”

I want to believe him. Part of me does. But the other part—the one that knows how deep this runs—can’t let him off the hook.

My throat tightens, my voice trembling. “ Enzo. Non so cosa fare. 9 ”

Enzo’s eyes dart between Nate and me, assessing, waiting for the right moment.

He takes a step forward, but Nate’s growl stops him dead in his tracks. The sheer primal sound of it sends a tremor through me.

“Who the fuck is this guy, Carina?” Nate snarls, his voice a mixture of betrayal and rage. “Was everything a lie?”

“I thought you were playing me,” I snap back, my arm flinging toward Edward, frustration boiling over. “That you were using me for him.”

Nate’s voice cracks with pain, the rawness of his hurt breaking through the anger. “And so you jump into bed with another man without talking to me?”

I freeze, horrified by his words. “Jump into—Nate. No!” I shout, my hands shaking. “No, I’m not—"

He looks at me, disbelief flashing across his face. “You’re not fucking him?” His voice cracks with something like desperation.

“No!” I cry, exasperated. “Enzo is my friend. He’s my hacker.”

Nate exhales a breath of relief, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, but the anger never truly leaves his eyes. He still doesn’t trust me.

“How could you think I’d work with him?” he demands, his voice raw, torn between anger and hurt.

“It was the only thing that made sense,” I explain, my voice faltering under the weight of it all. “It was too coincidental. And after what I did…”

“What you did?” Nate’s confusion deepens, and I see his gaze flicker from me to Edward and back again.

“She stole half my fortune,” Edward interjects smoothly, his expression as sharp as a blade. “Bled me dry over a number of months.”

The words slice through me like a thousand tiny cuts.

I turn to Edward, my chest tightening with a mix of rage and guilt. “When did you figure out it was me?”

Edward’s laugh is cruel, the sound grating on my nerves. “Just now,” he says, his words laced with a malicious joy. “It all fit into place.”

I feel my world unravelling around me, and the weight of everything crashing down is almost too much to bear.

Nate

My girl.

My brave, fierce, unbreakable girl.

She’s endured more than anyone ever should. More pain, more betrayal, more darkness than most could survive. And yet, here she stands—tall, confident, unyielding. Looming over the man who bought her, who treated her like she was nothing, as if he’s little more than a speck of dirt beneath her heel.

And yet, despite her strength, I can’t shake the guilt. She thought I was like him. That I was just another snake in a designer suit, pretending to care while secretly plotting against her. It guts me every time I think about it.

Yes, I’ve done shady things. But betrayal? Of her? Never. Even if I wanted to, I’m pretty sure my heart would give me the middle finger and quit.

But I get it. After everything she's been through, how could she not question me? How can I blame her for not trusting me?

What I do blame is Edward’s stupid face for existing in the first place. And, boy, do I have plans for that face.

The sneer he gives her is almost comical—like a villain in a bad reality TV show who just realised his evil plan is about to backfire.

Carina's gaze flicks between him and me, her expression unreadable. But her eyes—fuck, her eyes burn like embers, like she wants him six feet under and then some.

"You're still just a stupid, scared little girl," he taunts.

I see the way Carina stiffens.

I see the way her fingers twitch like she's stopping herself from tearing his throat out with her bare hands.

My blood turns to fire.

"Don't fucking talk to her." My voice is low, guttural, shaking with rage. "Don't even fucking look at her."

Edward scoffs, his lip curling, his next words dripping with poison. "I've done more than that, Nathaniel. Your whore of a girlfriend gave it up to me long before you."

Something snaps inside me.

Blind fury floods my vision, and I move without thought.

I lunge.

The impact is bone-crushing, both of us crashing to the ground with a sickening crack. The chairs splinter beneath us, shards of wood digging into my skin, but I don't feel it.

I feel only rage.

My hands are still tied before me, but it's enough.

I bring them down—

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Blood sprays across my skin, my clothes, and the floor.

Edward doesn't even fight back.

I keep going.

Fists colliding with bone, cartilage, teeth—again and again until I can't even tell what I'm hitting anymore.

"Nate!" Carina's voice pierces through the haze, but I can't stop. The fury, the betrayal, the sheer hatred fuel me, and I keep hitting him.

"Nate! Stop!" she screams, rushing to my side. "He's dead. He's dead. You can stop."

Her hands grab mine, soaked in blood, shaking as they grip me tightly.

I freeze.

My chest heaves, my vision blurring. I look down at the carnage I've created.

Edward's face is unrecognisable, a grotesque, caved-in mess of blood and bone. The scent of iron is thick in the air, cloying, suffocating.

A single word slips from my lips, barely above a whisper.

"Fuck.”

"Nate—" Carina's voice cracks, and when I look up at her, my vision blurs as tears begin to fall.

"Princess," I whisper hoarsely, falling to my knees in front of her. I press my forehead against her stomach, my bloodied hands trembling as they rest on her hips, the restraints still around my wrists digging painfully into my skin. "Please... baby. I love you. I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. I love you."

"Nate—"

"You have to believe me." My voice breaks as the tears spill over, my body wracked with desperation.

Her hands cup my face, lifting it so I'm forced to look into her eyes. "Nate, stop," she urges gently. "I believe you."

I search her face, needing to hear it again.

"I believe you," she repeats firmly.

Relief crashes over me like a wave, and I lean into her touch. When she bends down to press her lips against mine, it feels like my heart might explode from the sheer force of it.

Our moment is shattered by Enzo's sharp voice cutting through the stillness. "This is touching, but we need to clean this up. You weren't exactly quiet, assassino 10 ."