Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
I inch closer at the reminder. I'm a predator on the precipice, caught between the savage sweetness of revenge and the knowledge that it's not just my soul on the line—it's hers, too.
I press my gun to his temple, my boot connecting with the frame of his bed in a sharp kick meant to jar him awake.
"Wake the fuck up, Alessepo."
His body jolts, and his eyes snap open, bloodshot but clear. Good. He's sober now. He doesn't scream or plead for mercy. As he processes the situation, resignation sweeps through his gaze. He's stared death in the face before, perhaps not this closely, but close enough to know there's no begging your way out of it when your number's up.
He should know. He's been on this side of the trigger.
"Who—?"
I silence him by pressing the gun even harder against his temple. "The motherfucker who took your daughter from you."
"The party," he says, his voice gravelly from sleep.
"You lost her long before the party. She knows what you are and the things you've done."
His gaze flicks across my face, assessing, trying to determine what I know or if I'm fishing. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a cop."
My finger twitches with the effort it takes not to squeeze the trigger. "And you've been dirty your entire fucking career," I growl, the past clawing its way up my throat like bile. "Remember Andres and Letty Passero?"
A brief flicker in his eyes is his only response, gone as quickly as it appeared.
"I was there the night you killed them. Twenty-five fucking years ago. Don't act like you've forgotten their blood on your hands."
He blinks, slow and deliberate, that practiced, cool facade sliding over his features like a mask. Cops wear it so goddamn well. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lies, so smoothly it almost sounds like truth.
"That's fine, Alessepo. I don't need your admission. I was there. I saw it. I've lived with it haunting me every fucking day since." I smirk, an unholy, savage smirk. "Now, it's going to haunt you."
Uncertainty filters through his expression, the first hint that he's not as calm and collected as he'd like to appear. There are cracks in his armor. Miles Alessepo is starting to unravel.
Good. I hope every thread slices deep.
"I wanted to kill you, but your daughter doesn't need to live with that on her conscience. And after everything you've done, death is too easy for you," I say. I'm jury and executioner, and I'm handing down my sentence. "You took something from me. Now, I'm taking everything from you. Your daughter is already mine, and brick by fucking brick, I'm going to dismantle your little empire until you're left with nothing. By the time you fall, everyone in this city will know exactly who and what you are."
I remove the gun from his temple, the gesture deliberate. This isn't mercy. I'm not letting him off. There is no hope of redemption for him, and I'm not giving him an opportunity to seek it. He's going to plummet from his pedestal, and I'm going to make it happen.
I just declared war with the entire fucking police department.
It is what it is.
With swift brutality, I swing my arm. The crack of his nose breaking is music, the bright spray of red immediately satisfying.
"If you ever put her in danger or disrespect her again, I will kill you next time, Alessepo," I warn him, my voice cold. "So fucking slowly, you'll spend days begging for death before I let you have it." I wrap my hand around his throat, yanking him up until his eyes are level with mine. "And getting to you is fucking child's play for a motherfucker like me. There is no hole deep or dark enough to keep you from me."
He gurgles, his eyes bulging as he fights to breathe. For the first time since I entered his room, fear sweeps through his gaze. For the first time, he knows exactly how he made her feel.
Good.
I hold him for a moment, my hand a vise around his miserable throat to ensure the lesson sinks in, and then I drop him.
He's still gasping for breath when I stride from the room, leaving him groaning in the dark.
Killing him would have been so fucking easy, but it'd chain Karina to him in ways that can't ever be undone. I intend to break those chains, not forge new ones. That's the future she deserves—one free of this motherfucker and the pain he's caused her.
If I have to dismantle the entire goddamn police department to make it happen, so be it.
Chapter Eight
Karina
Coda's mouth is dangerous, his taste an addiction that lures me deeper every time his lips touch mine. I wrap my body around his, clinging to his broad shoulders as heat flashes to steam and the living room fades away around me. All that's left is him and his mouth.