Page 188 of Viper

Reaper shakes his head. “No Father. That’s the cost of being your son. And you have cost meeverything.”

I close the gap between us, my hands trembling with the effort to hold back the storm brewing inside me. “That woman is the only good thing I’ve ever touched. You better pray to any god who will listen that she’s alive.”

“Or what, mysyn?”

“Or I’m going to personally send you to hell.”

Chapter 59

Reaper

October 31st, Halloween Night, Age 35

Whenallthat’sleftis vengeance, you become addicted to it.

The compulsion consumes you. It’s a poison that leaks into your soul, staining everything. Your life, your intentions. Revenge becomes you. It’s all you eat and drink until you’re bloated and weighed down by the heaviness of the need to destroy.

I’ve been haunted by Rune Gavin for far too long. He’s a cancer who’s plagued me. A constant background noise that’s deafening. But it’s only been in the last five years that I’ve wanted to kill him.

Kill.That’s too easy. Too quick.

I want to eviscerate him. Flay him alive the way he did my brother.

Not too far from here, Rune sits smug in the knowledge he wrecked my life. He thinks he’s won.

My gaze lingers on the large windows framing downtown, wondering if Rune caught wind of their plans tonight.

I doubt it.

That tiny little redhead, with a smile bright enough to make my heart stop, has mastered the art of sneaking around.

“You have this under control?” Father asks, his tinny voice cracking through the speakers.

The sound grates over my skin, and I tap the volume button on the keyboard to lower it, wishing I could end this call already, but he insisted on reviewing the mission before tomorrow.

Anal retentive bastard that he is.

Through the video feed, I watch as Father taps a shiny black pen on his desk, the smacking sound cutting through my head like dull glass. “The target has a meeting in the morning with Rune. The Julian girl will be with her as usual, which could be problematic.”

I lock my eyes with his through the video feed. They’re such a pale wintery blue that even via video, the icy coldness in them chills my blood. Surrounded by wood paneling, ornate 18th-century furniture, and velvet drapes that frame the window behind him, he is a picture of obscene wealth. A true oligarch with more power and money than most small countries. Not even Rune knows the vastness of the Byrns’ name.

Yet here we are, his four sons, currently living in a refurbished factory, never having a place to call home. Not since we left that fucking concrete hell years ago. If the school could be called a home.

It was a literal prison.

One we remain locked in. Even with the bars removed, the sense of freedom—that we can go anywhere, do anything —is just smoke and shadows. We’re still chained to Fallon.

We will be as long as Rune breathes.

“I have it under control, Father. No need to fret.”

His brows dip in response to my agitated tone. “I can trust you to extract the target tomorrow?”

My gaze immediately moves from the computer screen to the wall of images and other intel we’ve collected over the years and lands on the picture of her. The single snapshot I took the day I saw her in the park four years ago.

It had been the first time I’d laid eyes on her in a long, long time.

She was nothing like I remembered.