A quill stamp rests next to the signature. A symbol I’ve seen before.
Sable. The person who signed the disposal records at the crematory had this stamp next to his signature.
Edon Berisha is fucking Sable.
I fist the copy of the kill ledger, the evidence I’ve sought my entire adult life. The identity of the man who ordered my family’s deaths, and the reason behind it.
My parents must’ve known danger was upon us. Grandpa crossed The Six, and the punishment was death.
Extirpation—the elimination of theentirefamily line as punishment.
And Edon Berisha took this opportunity as his Rite to join the ranks. He sent Vasil Çela and Carlos Alvarez to wipe my family from existence.
Wrath roars up my throat.
The motherfucker.
He stepped on my family’s graves to rise to power.
And he’ll pay for it—with his life.
“What are you going to do?” Sofia whispers, her face pale. “They’re ruthless. They’ll go down fighting. It’ll be a massacre. And Lana…”
My breath stalls. Edon’s signature swirls in my vision.
But the images bleed into bittersweet snapshots—hearing Lana sing Christmas songs in the shower, hand-feeding her chocolates, kissing every inch of her rose-scented skin.
Then my parents tucking little Beatrice into bed, teasing Sofia about her braces, Mom ruffling my hair when I came home from school.
I can’t give up my revenge.
Not just for me, but for others like me—torn apart by the Berishas’ misdeeds.
I once told Lana that Kian is dead, and Elias is a monster.
I’ll be the monster they all fear—just not the kind that’ll snuff out her light.
There’s only one option left.
With my heart in a vice, I make a call. The line connects.
“Get your sister. Tomorrow. You owe me.”
The line clicks dead, and a single truth sinks like lead in my gut.
I may lose Lana.
But at least she’ll stay safe, not buried six feet under. If I don’t survive, let her hate me. Better she lose me than be crippled with pain.
And if I live…
I will earn her back.
Chapter 51: OMENS AND H?ARTBEATS
The sky is unusuallydark tonight. I stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room as the pale moonlight spills through the clouds. A lone crow settles on the nearest branch, its beady eyes fixed on me.
An omen draped in feathers.
