Her expression shifts, confusion forming in her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away. She just waits as I continue. “Thank you, my beautiful girl, for understanding me.”
Her lips part as if to speak, but the words don’t come and I can feel my throat tightening, the raw ache of emotion welling up as tears burn hot behind my eyes.
“You saw me, and that’s all I ever really wanted,” I whisper as my tears spill over, trailing down my face and falling onto her skin like fragile confessions. “You saw through it all—the fucking darkness, the diagnosis, the murder, the madness, the train wreck of my fucking life.”
My gaze drops to her lips again, my thumb sliding across the soft curve of the bottom one and her hands tighten just slightly on my wrists. “You, Raven. You are what home should have felt like. Safe. Loved.”
I see the emotion in her eyes—the heartbreak, the understanding, the quiet pain. It’s too fucking much.
My eyes squeeze shut as if I can block it out as if that’ll make this any easier. “I’m sorry for putting you through the things I did.” The words are bitter on my tongue, an apology that feels too small for what I’ve done to her. I sniffle, forcing myself to open my eyes and meet hers again, to tell her the truth.“You’re just… everything I ever fucking wanted. Everything I ever needed.”
A tear slips from the corner of her eye, trailing down her cheek, and something in her softens—her defence, her hurt, maybe even her suspicion. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. I can feel her aura, the way it holds me together even as I’m falling apart.
“At first, I wanted to dull your light, kitten. I hated how it clashed with my fucking darkness,” I shake my head once. “But please, don’t ever stop shining bright for me.”
Before she can respond, I press my lips to hers, hard and desperate, my hands shaking as they cradle her face, my thumbs brushing away the dampness of her tears. I kiss her again, and again, each time as if it will be enough to explain what my words can’t.
And then, before I let myself sink any further, I pull back. My hands drop from her face, the warmth of her slipping away like something I don’t deserve to fucking hold.
“Ty…” Her voice is weak behind me, almost pleading, but I don’t look back.
I grab my axe, swing the door open and step out into the night, leaving it unlocked for the first time.
…
The mansion looms in front of me, a monolith of sleek, black stone against the endless void of night. It looks like it belongs to a fucking kingpin.
My mind drifts back to Raven—her innocent face, those piercing eyes that see too much, the way she stirs something in me I didn’t know I could ever feel. How she keeps digging into the hollow parts of me, pulling at things I didn’t even know were there.
I was so close to staying. So close to stopping myself from doing this.
But I can’t.
My mind, my soul—if I even have one—they’re too far gone. There’s no peace for me until this is done. Until I get answers. Until this cunt is dead and I can finally stop choking on the questions that haunt me every time I close my fucking eyes.
I squeeze them shut now, just for a moment, and her face is there again, softening the edges of my rage. It makes me want to fucking scream.
I shake my head sharply, growling low under my breath as I push her out of my thoughts.
This ends tonight.
I crouch behind a tree at the edge of the property, the bark rough against my gloves, and I scan the back of the house. The pool lies still, an eerie mirror beneath the faint glow of garden lights. Somewhere in the distance, the sharp barks of dogs cut through the silence.
My gaze locks onto movement through the wide downstairs windows. A figure drifts past—him. Dressed in a velvet red robe and silk pants, he looks as if he doesn’t have a care in the fucking world. A cigar smokes between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air, while a glass of whiskey glints in his other hand. A book is tucked against his side like this is just another quiet night for him.
I bite down on my teeth. It’s him. No mistaking it. I remember that ugly face. Ricco.
The night feels too still, too calm for the vicious murder that’s about to take place. I unzip my bag slowly, keeping my eyes locked on his silhouette. My gloved hand finds the handle of my axe before I rise, pulling it free. He moves toward a chair now,settling himself in front of a roaring fireplace visible through the glass. He lounges there, oblivious. My pulse quickens, the blood in my ears a steady drum.
This is it. The moment I’ve fucking planned for. There’s no turning back.
I leave my bag behind and creep toward the mansion, sticking to the walls like a ghost slipping between shadows. My steps are soundless on the damp grass before I move along the side of the mansion, scanning the windows and doors for weaknesses.
The glass door I first spot is locked—figures. My gaze shifts upward, catching a balcony with French doors, not to high up for me.
I tiptoe, sliding my axe on the balcony floor before grabbing the smooth edge, then haul myself up, my boots scraping slightly against the wall as I climb. The muscles in my arms strain, but I make it, swinging my leg over the railing and landing in a low crouch. The French doors are locked too, but the latch is old, decorative rather than functional.
I lean down, grabbing my axe and slip the blade between the seam and twist until the latch pops with a click. Quietly, I push the door, slipping inside like a phantom.
