Page 45 of Revenge

I spot Benedict hiding behind two of his mercs. He has a gun in his hand but holds it awkwardly. He’ll probably shoot his own foot before he fires on me. I take down the two men guarding him.

“No!” Dahlia screams. She’s thrown on a robe and is coming up the stairs behind me.

“Get back in the cabin,” I snarl. “It’s not safe out here.”

“Dahlia!”

My attention is drawn away from Benedict by three of his men rounding the corner. I shield Dahlia’s body and take them out.

Before I know it, Dahlia has darted past me and is running for her father. “Daddy! You got my message!”

The ship spins. Or maybe I’m spinning. Something is fucking spinning.

Dahlia sent a message to her father last night. That’s how he found us here.

Betrayal stabs deep in my heart, igniting my old rage. My old need for revenge. Yes, I’m a brute, a true monster, but the Kings are what made me this way.

I lift my pistol and point it right at Benedict’s head. I’m an excellent shot. Not one of my bullets has missed its mark thus far. One twitch of my finger, and he would be dead.

He’s hustling Dahlia to the rail and pointing over the side. There must be a motor boat pulled alongside ours. How it got close without my men spotting it is unfathomable to me.

I follow them with my gun arm extended, Benedict’s head clearly in my sight.

My wife–the woman I just made scream with pleasure–has one leg over the railing. She glances back at me, and her eyes round with terror. “No!” her scream rings with so much horror that I draw my hand up, pointing toward the sky instead of her father. “Please, Antonio–”

She doesn’t get to finish the plea because her father fires wildly at me.

I’ve reached them by now.

Benedict shoves Dahlia off the rail, and we both stand there a moment, peering off the side at her flailing body plummeting down.

I’m holding my breath, afraid she might crack her head on the boat below, but she misses it, plunging into the water.

I slam my hand down on Benedict’s wrist, causing him to lose grip on the pistol. It fires wildly as it falls to the deck and slides away from us. I press my gun to his temple.

“Antonio!”

The sound of my name on my wife’s lips makes something deep inside of me shudder with recognition. Despite her betrayal, it’s all still there–my desire to please her. To make her happy.

I tear my glance away from her father to peer over the rail. She’s swimming beside the boat, one arm tossed over the side to steady herself.

She catches my gaze. “Antonio, no. Please.”

She’s begging me.

As I desired.

As I predicted.

But not the reason I’d hoped.

Fanculo.

I jab the pistol into Benedict’s flesh. “Jump,” I snarl.

He scrambles to comply.

“Jump,” I repeat. “If I see you again, you’re a dead man.”