Page 63 of The King of Hearts (The Raven Group #1)

I know I’m not totally sound of mind. My experience in Henry’s basement and his creepy obsession should have left me running scared when I opened that first box containing a heart, even more so when Ryker approached me in my room right after.

Any normal person would have. I don’t know what it is about the enigmatic Ryker.

I only know he makes me feel safe, something I haven’t truly felt since before Henry.

Seeing that heart and knowing Ryker killed the person it belonged to because he said some nasty things and barely touched me proved that he would protect me at all costs.

Instead of hurting me to get what he wants—which is what Henry did—he’d hurt everyone else. No one is safe from his wrath when it comes to me.

I like that. I really like that.

“Baby,” he calls, and I blink back into focus.

“What?”

He reaches beneath the cabinet for the jug of formaldehyde and plops it on the counter. Next, he grabs an empty jar situated beside the ones filled with hearts. I grab the top and slide the jar toward me, then screw off the lid.

“The heart you gave me at the cliff, who did it belong to?” I ask as I shove Joseph’s heart through the jar’s opening. I have to squish the sides a bit because the heart is a little too big.

“Shane Ballot.”

I frown because the name doesn’t sound familiar.

“He was recently hired to kidnap you. Your father found out and had him captured. Once he extracted all of the information out of him that he could, I went behind his back and killed him.”

The heart falls in the jar with a thump, and I pour the vinegar and burnt match-smelling liquid on top.

“I don’t understand. Who hired him?”

The muscle beside his eye twitches. “He didn’t know. The person never showed his identity to Shane.”

I screw the lid on and set the jar beside the other ones. Ryker takes out another jar and passes it to me.

For some reason, the fear I should feel isn’t there. It’s strange, after everything I went through as a teenager, the terror I felt after being in Henry’s basement, and the same terror I felt receiving those notes years later, I should be scared out of my mind.

But I’m not, and I think it has everything to do with my new husband. I feel safe with him. I know with every ounce of certainty that he won’t allow anyone or anything to hurt me.

I drop that subject for now, but I intend to revisit it later.

“When did you find out?” I ask instead.

“That you’re The Butcher?”

I pause and flick my gaze to him. “Yes.”

“I knew from the beginning,” he reveals, shocking me. “You were never alone when you killed those bastards. I was always there, hiding in the shadows.”

Now that I think back, I remember feeling a presence nearby.

Every single time, needles pricked the back of my neck, like someone was watching.

The first couple of times, I almost stopped my task because of the weird feeling, but ultimately, I discounted it as being paranoid.

In time, I grew to find comfort in the sensation.

“Why?” He raises a brow at my question. “Why were you always there?”

“Do you honestly think I would let you do it alone? That I would allow you to put yourself in danger?”

Irritation heats my cheeks, and I shoot him a glare. “I’ve always managed just fine. The paralyzing agent I use makes them not a danger.”

He steps closer, invading my space. “It’s those moments before you inject them, Vicious.

A single moment could change everything.

One well-placed punch and it would be over for you.

There’s not a chance in hell I was allowing that to happen.

You’ve been lucky so far. I wasn’t going to test that luck. ”

“I always had Marcelo with me.”

“Wasn’t good enough. I trust my guard with your life only to an extent.”

I know what he’s saying is true, but it still irks me. Being an independent woman, I don’t like the thought of depending on a man, but I’m also a realist. Most men are physically stronger than women, and the possibility of being overpowered is very real.

Only Marcelo knows of my extracurricular activities.

In the dead of night, when I leave the island by the private boat I have hidden on the opposite side, he always accompanies me.

When I hunt my victims down, he’s there, but always in the background.

I don’t allow him to assist me in any way, preferring to take on that bloody task on my own.

I don’t say anything to his comment and start the process of preserving Joseph’s severed dick.

I don’t know why I keep these things. It’s not like I take them out and admire them or anything.

They get put in a jar and set on the shelf, and the only time I see them again is when I add another one.

Maybe it’s because they represent my power over the people I took them from.

The power of the women they’ve hurt. All of my victims are perpetrators of sexual acts against women.

After twisting the lid in place, I put it back on the shelf with the others.

Joseph’s brings the total to seventeen. The authorities only know about less than half of them, and that’s only because I purposely left my victims to be found.

The rest are resting at the bottom of the ocean, cut into pieces and stuffed into thick black trash bags.

“You’ve got one more,” Ryker says.

I turn from the cabinet, regarding him curiously. “What?”

“To add to your collection,” he replies.

He walks to the living room and picks up a matte black box that’s sitting on an old, rickety coffee table.

It’s the same size and shape as the ones he sent when he was playing my devil.

He brings it over and sets it on the counter in front of me.

With my brows pulled down, I pull the tail of the black silk ribbon, and the bow falls apart.

I crack the lid open and peer inside. A heart rests on a bed of black tissue paper. Beside it is a sawed off dick.

My eyes fly up to Ryker. “Who did you take this from?”

“Manny Stewart.”

“Who?”

“The man from the coffee shop.”

My brows drop. “But I thought he got away?”

“No. Marcelo knocked him unconscious and tossed him in a dumpster to retrieve later that night.”

As utterly perverted as it sounds, my heart warms. Who knew getting a bloody heart as a gift would make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I lay my hands on his chest and tip my head back to look at him. “You say you’re my wrath and would protect me from anything. That fear isn’t an emotion I need to worry about. But there is something I do fear. It scares me so much my bones rattle with it.”

His eyes turn a molten silver. “What?”

“My family,” I say quietly. “The members of The Raven Group. All the people we’ve helped over the years.

” I dig my fingers into his chest, fisting the soft material of his shirt.

“You need to destroy the evidence you gathered and contact the person you were going to use to expose our secrets and have them destroy their copies.”

“Baby.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I destroyed it an hour after you arrived in my home that first day.”

My brows jump up, nearly touching my hairline. “You did?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You still needed to believe it.”

“But how did you know I wasn’t going to back out of the marriage?”

Not that that would have stopped him. He may have destroyed the physical evidence, but Ryker is savvy enough that he could have gathered more. Even if he didn’t have physical proof, he could have gone to the authorities with his story, and it would have been enough to open an investigation.

“Because I knew you would protect your family and everyone associated with The Raven Group at all costs. Even sacrificing yourself.”

“Would you have really exposed us?”

“Yes.” No hesitation whatsoever.

A lead ball sinks in my stomach, falling to the pit of my belly with a hard thunk. “You would really hurt me like that? Sacrifice my family and friends?”

“I’d sacrifice anything and anyone. Haven’t I proven this over and over?”

“I’m part of The Raven Group. I would have been prosecuted along with them,” I tell him, something he has to already know.

“Not true. I would have taken you away.”

A part of me wants to slap his face and scream my hatred for him.

I would never forgive him if he was the reason my family went to prison.

I would hate him forever, and there wouldn’t be anything he could do to change it.

That’s the rational part of me. The small bit of sanity that still resides inside. The angel on my shoulder.

The devil on the other side whispers in my ear to ignore that he was going to expose my family had I not agreed to his terms, and focus on the part where he said he destroyed the evidence and that it’s no longer a threat hanging over our head.

That it hasn’t been for over a week. The dark part of me that kills people in cold blood and enjoys the pain that Ryker dishes out.

That luxuriates in his unhealthy fixation with me.

The devil celebrates its win when I push hard against Ryker’s chest. Not expecting the move, he actually takes a step back. I come for him, pushing his chest again and again, until the back of his legs meet a kitchen chair. I flip it around so it faces the sofa.

“Sit,” I order.

I’m surprised but pleased when he falls into the chair.

“What are you doing, Vicious?” he asks, his head tilted slightly back and to the side, his expression curious.

“Taking control.”

One side of his mouth curves up into a half smile.

“That so?”

I nod.

“And you think I’ll allow it?”

“Yes.” I step up to him and he helpfully spreads his legs so I can move between them. “Because it’ll make me happy.”

His hands move to my outer thighs and slide up to my hips. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”

My head bobs up and down. “Yep.”