A tremor rumbles through me, and I press a hand to my chest.
“They are gone. I didn’t get to say goodbye. How could this happen? How could someone just walk into their house and murder them? How can they be gone just like that? How could I not cry when I stood there watching their caskets lowering into the ground? How could I not cry with my brother and father? How could I not glance at Diesel and tell him it’s okay for him to cry too? How could I feel the loss of them, the pain of others, and nothing at the same time? How could I worry about others and not myself?” I scream the words, choking on sobs.
Many lives have been turned upside down just like that, and Seth Mitchell made me realize how quickly things can change. That within a blink of an eye, lives are snuffed out.
How?
My thoughts take root in my head as tears threaten.
I shake my head and cover my face, trying desperately to hide from what’s coming.
It’s impossible anymore.
“I want my family back,” I scream.
My entire body shudders with sobs as I fold over my knees. Tears burn my cheeks. Each drop leaving a hot trail of agony as my shoulders shake, and the sadness I will never see them again seers through my body. It burns, hurts, and the emptiness in my heart boils past the seams I will never stitch back together.
A guttural cry wrenches from my throat when suddenly, Seth lifts me off the floor, and his strong arms cradle me like a baby.
“I’m broken. I’ll never be the same again.”
“No, angel, you are human,” Seth whispers, wiping the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.
“You’re brave, angel. I’m here. Victoria. I’m sorry. So, fucking sorry.” His voice is so gentle that I cry harder.
Despair squeezes my chest in excruciating pain.
Unbearable.
Brittle and raw.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, gasping as I try to catch my breath, although I can’t. The tears keep coming and coming.
They won’t stop. I cry and cry for the four lives that I loved and lost, and with each tear, Seth’s thumbs continue wiping them away.
We stay there, him caring for me until my body gives way from exhaustion—my grief consuming until I’m wrung out and barely awake.
As I drift to sleep, I can’t help thinking if I give in to Seth and let him all the way in, I’ll sacrifice who I am to accept who he is.
The killer with no conscience who will leave at all hours of the day and night to take care of whatever business is demanded of him, and I’ll never know where he is. That means sharing some things with me and leaving other things out.
That means bloodshed.
That means changing my way of thinking when it comes to the Empire.
Concede to everything Seth is when he walks out the door, and let go of my biggest fear, which he’s as much a part of as my father, brothers, and friends.
Death.
I don’t think I can be that person, no matter how much my heart wants me to be.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Seth
I hate cold weather. Mostly at six o’clock in the morning when the bite of the wind sinks right into my bones until they’re ready to snap. It doesn’t matter that I’ve had the heat on blast or how warm my blood is. The chill attacks my face, making it feel tight. My lips quiver, my teeth chatter, muscles hurt.
This goddamn shit is for the birds.
Despite how I might never get used to it, and as I reach my destination. My sluggish, exhausted mind wakes from lack of sleep, as well as knowing I’m about to kill someone. I’ve hit my second wind, making me look forward to doing a job I wasn’t expecting to do.
A kill I’ll gladly add to the list.
One of Roan’s soldiers committed a crime. Breaking one of Roan’s laws. He went against everything The Diamond Empire believes in when it comes to a woman.
From the information emailed to me, the coward has been beating the hell out of his girl Scarlet for years. To me, that’s a crime deserving of death because a man like that doesn’t change. I’ve seen enough of the narcissistic pieces of shit in my lifetime. They are nothing but Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
According to Scarlet, who is tucked away safe in Roan’s shelter for women, the cowardly little weasel came home drunk last night, started smacking her around, and when she pulled out a gun, he went ballistic. Snatched it from her hand, beat her, and plowed the butt of the gun into her face before passing out. Once he did, she grabbed their kid and left.
Violence claws below the layers of my skin, dark rage twitching the muscles in my fingers, causing me to grip the steering wheel tight, fueled by bottled-up wrath and mercilessness.
Ruthless.
It just so happens those types of men make me want to shed my skin to expose my beast. To do onto them as they’ve done to others.
To beat them to a bloody, disfigured pulp.
Mutilate and maim just enough to leave them breathing, leaving their pea-sized brain fully aware of the excruciating pain coursing through their body, all the while every organ slowly shuts down, not quite ready to let go and die.
This man will have it a hell of a lot worse than I’d conflict on just any kill, mostly when I’m not able to touch Victoria quite yet in the way I want. Meaning, I’m starting with the prick’s hands.
A few hours ago, I left Victoria sound asleep after she gave me a side of her I don’t think many have seen, trusting me with it, opening herself wide.
I felt her misery seep into my bloodstream.
Wrapping me in all her heartbreak.
It took every bit of restraint I had not to catch her before she fell to her knees—the woman crushed beneath an avalanche of grief.
And, fuck, when she started
