Page 144 of Wounded King

She glances up, and there's a challenge in her eyes now, daring me to look away, to flinch.

"And the truth is... I like it," she says, her voice quieter now but far more dangerous. "I like the power. I like knowing I can end someone if they deserve it. I like making bad people disappear. Men who hurt women. Who think they can buy silence with blood. I like watching that moment, the second they realize I'm not who they thought I was."

She lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Maybe that makes me a monster. But if it does, at least I'm a monster that answers to herself."

"And Luciano justknew?"

"I didn't come out of nowhere, Vi," she says, in a soft voice. "People in Marcello's world… they know how to spot a wolf. Even when she's been hiding in sheep's clothes."

I look at her differently now. My best friend. My secret assassin.

And still, the only person I trust enough to watch my back.

The silence stretches, but my brain is sprinting. I always joked she was a little off. That her moral compass ran magnetic north to her own chaos. But this? This is something else.

"I used to say you were likeDexter," I mutter, mostly to myself. "Dark passenger and all that shit."

She smirks. "You did."

I huff out a stunned little laugh. "Jesus. And here I thought I was being dramatic. But… damn, Pippa. You might actually beDexter."

She tilts her head, mock-considering. "Minus the plastic wrap. That stuff's a bitch to clean up."

God.Of course,she has a favorite way to kill.

The reality of it sinks in, not just what she's done, but that she'sgoodat it. That shelikesit. And not in some twisted, out-of-control way. No, it's worse than that. It's calm. Reasoned. Controlled.

Fuck.

My best friend's a killer. No, worse, a serial killer. An assassin for hire.

I don't even know what shocks me more, that she is one… or that it doesn't make me love her any less. Damn.

I've already accepted Marcello's world, the blood, the violence, the lines you cross and can never uncross. I made peace with that the second I fell in love with him.

But now?

Now I'm staring at my oldest friend and realize she's been out there assassinating people like she's running a quiet little side hustle.

My boyfriend's a mafia king.

My best friend's an assassin.

My father is a capo.

God, my subconscious must've been having the time of its life while I was out here pretending to be normal. I lean back against the pillows and let out a low groan.

"I need a drink," I mutter.

Pippa's eyes sparkle with something that might be amusement, or relief. "I brought wine."

"Of course you did," I say dryly. "Let me guess, it's laced with cyanide?"

"Nah," she grins. "Too messy. Arsenic's classier."

And for some godforsaken reason… I laugh.

Because she's still Pippa.