Page 48

One month later…

Nate

The bastard’s scream tears through the room, raw and jagged, slicing through the air like my blade through flesh. The scent of blood—sharp, metallic, almost sweet—coils in my lungs, grounding me in the moment.

I tighten my grip on the handle, feeling the weight settle into my palm like an old habit. Some things you never forget.

Beside me, Carina is a vision of cold, lethal grace. Her pink hair catches the dim, flickering light, the only vivid thing in this room of white and crimson. Her eyes are steady, unreadable, locked onto the trembling man bound to the chair.

“You know,” I murmur to her, low and steady, “I almost forgot how good we are at this.”

She doesn’t look at me, but the corner of her mouth lifts, just barely. “Almost?”

“It’s like riding a bike,” I reply, gesturing to the pathetic excuse for a human in front of us. “Except with way more screaming. And, you know, blood.”

Her snort is soft, nearly lost under the buzz of the overhead lights, but I catch it. That small crack in her armour. Adorable, really, considering she could kill me with that knife she’s twirling like a baton.

But this isn’t about her. Not anymore.

She’s here for them. The women at Haven walk through its doors with nothing but shattered pieces and stories that would make the devil himself recoil. She’s their beacon now. Their hope.

And scum like this—human filth that preys on the weak—they need to burn so those women never have to fear again.

She nods once, a silent signal, and we move.

My blade flashes; her boot connects. The man’s head jerks back with a sickening crack, a garbled scream spilling from his lips.

“Please!” he sputters, blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. “Please don’t kill me!”

Carina tilts her head. There’s something almost curious in the way she looks at him.

“Kill you?” she echoes. She steps closer and lets him see the lethal stillness in her eyes. “Who said anything about killing you?”

Not yet.

His gaze snaps to me, wild and desperate, searching for salvation.

A fatal fucking error.

I crouch beside him, levelling my blade just beneath his chin. Not pressing. Not yet. Just enough for him to feel the threat humming between us.

“You think you deserve mercy?” I ask quietly, watching as the words sink in. “You don’t get to beg for your life. Not when you’ve destroyed so many others.”

His breath comes fast, shallow. His lips tremble. He’s still hoping. Fool.

“Please,” he tries again, weaker this time. “Please have mercy.”

I sigh, resting my forearm lazily on my knee. “Buddy,” I say, dragging the knife down just enough to draw a thin red line, “you’re barking up the wrong psychopath.”

With a flick of my wrist, the blade sinks into his side.

His scream is music. A symphony of justice.

Carina watches, her lips twitching. “Still satisfying, huh?” Her voice is dry, but there’s something else underneath it.

I grin. “Every damn time.”

She shakes her head, exhaling a sound that’s almost a laugh.

And that’s when I know.

It’s now or never.

“Hey, Princess,” I call, standing.

She arches a brow, still twirling the knife lazily in her fingers. “Yeah?”

"I have a hypothetical question," I say, smirking at the question in her eyes.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small box that has haunted me for weeks. Her pink hair gleams as her head tilts, and her eyes narrow as I drop to one knee.

Yes. In the puddle of blood.

Yes. Next to the guy clinging to consciousness.

Because romance isn’t dead.

But this guy soon will be.

“You’re kidding,” she exclaims, staring at me. There’s disbelief in her tone but also amusement.

“I’m not.” I flip the box open, revealing the ring nestled inside. The pink sapphire catches the overhead lights. “Carina, you’re the most stubborn, brilliant, and maddening woman I’ve ever met. You’ve survived hell and still somehow manage to make the world brighter. I know we’re not normal, and I wouldn’t want us to be. So… hypothetically, if you were to ask you to marry me, would you say yes?"

She stares at me for a moment. Lips parted. Eyes unreadable.

Then—she laughs. A real, full-bodied laugh that hits me like a bloody bullet to the chest.

“Nate,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re proposing in your murder room. While we still have a guy to deal with.”

I shrug. “Timing felt right.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile says it all.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it.”

She kneels in front of me, her fingers brushing mine. “I do.”

“Is that a yes?”

She leans in and kisses my lips, soft and certain. “Of course, it’s a yes.”

Behind us, the bastard groans a weak, pathetic sound.

Carina pulls back, her smile sharpening into something dangerous.

“Let’s finish this first,” she says, standing. She offers me her hand.

And just like that, we’re back in sync.