There isn’t a word strong enough to name what I feel for him. Hatred doesn’t cut it. Rage isn’t enough.
It’s poison.
Pure and slow.
Curling around my spine, inching toward my heart. I don’t care about his whore—Xena. Steve’s ex-girlfriend is the object of all my hatred and his very undoing. Right now, I only care about him, about watching him suffer. What I have planned for him will be slow. Careful and thought out. Months of stalking, giving him enough unease to make his skin crawl. I want him to be aware that he’s the hunted and can’t do anything about it. Just like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered, always looking over his shoulder, not knowing when I’ll strike. I should’ve come back sooner and ended this before he had the chance to hurt another person I love. But instead, I told Vik to let it go, to stop chasing ghosts.
Boy, was I wrong.
What can I say? I wanted more for us, more than revenge. I thought I had a future with Tokyo. The girl I saved. The one I bled for. Turns out, I was wrong about that, too. I guess blood does run thicker than water. So, here I am, standing in the blizzarding cold, reminiscing about the past. About the pain that burns bright inside me, leaving me with a void that’s impossible to fill. While I was out here grieving, Roman was out here living. A scoff escapes my lips as memories flood my mind. Tokyo on her knees for a man I believed was her half-brother. He wasn’t, but you can imagine the shock when I saw it with my very own eyes from outside the window. Silly of me to chase someone as fleeting as a butterfly, but I’ll rip out her wings because this timethere’s no escaping me. My hands clench into fists, my heart painfully tugging at the memory that plays behind my eyes. The girl I loved was too busy fucking herhalf-brother to think of me.And for that, she will pay.
Maybe there’s something in the water that is turning all these women into incestuous bitches. But I don’t care, not anymore. All that matters now is revenge. I entered the game too late, but I’m determined to win. To kill them all. Now that my pawns are in place, it’s time to make my move.
And my first move will start with the woman I loved the most… Tokyo. She will be the angel to deliver them to penance. I’m done caring about bonds. All that matters now… is ending it. Killing every bird with one final stone. And then burn the nest down with it. With a smile on my face, I watch as Roman removes the dead bird from his door, scanning around to find the culprit. A smile tugs at my lips at the sight of him, confused and panicked.
Unlike Vik, I don’t act — I think.
Let them enjoy their love… her sobriety… their small taste of victory before it all comes crashing down. I continue to observe through the trees as Roman buries the bird—a secret his whore will never know—and then wipes his door clean, like that could wash away his sins.
My hate.
But it won’t. My hand digs into my pocket, pulling out my mint gum, and popping it in my mouth before starting back toward my truck.
“Merry Christmas, Roman. I’ll be seeing you soon,” I whisper to the woods that watched him kill my brothers—but this time, I won’t make the same mistake.
I’ll bring him to my domain….
Let’s see if he can survive Fright Night.
My playground.
Chapter One
Tokyo
Present Day
Cedarvale
“You know, kid… I wasn’t ready for you. I wish I were better. But hey—maybe I was put in your life to teach you what not to do.” My mother says as she takes a drag of her cigarette, the purple bruise blooming across her cheek like a sick flower. Her long hair falls around her, trying to hide it.
But I see it. I always do. “Yeah,” I reply sourly. “You’re doing a great job.”
Rizz doesn’t look at me. Just blows smoke toward the cracked ceiling before taking a sip of her coffee like it’s holy.
“One day, Tokyo, you’ll thank me for making you strong. Making you so resilient.” Her eyes focus on me before her plump lip curls into a half smile, slanted, and her eyes are already halfway gone. “That you won’t even miss me when I’m gone.”
The memory fades like ash, leaving nothing but a dead trail in its wake. The memory tastes sour in the back of my throat, and the ache in my chest. A cruel feeling, that reminds me that I’m truly alone by choice—I guess. My grip tightens around the shifter as my foot presses on the gas. The thought becomes distant as the wet roads sharpen in its place. Wind slams through the open window as I downshift, foot hitting the clutch and tires screeching sideways through the curve.
I guess Rizz was right.
She did make me resilient but also detached. Quick to leave and selfish. Thanks to her neglect and the men who came after, who beat her, defiled us, and burned whatever softness was left.
I’m resilient.
I’m selfish.
But I’m still here.
