It gnawed at my soul, descending me deeper into darkness. She was my light, my hope, my heart—and I’d ruined it all before I found her.
She thought she’d awoken from her nightmares. That reality would set her free and truth would dispel the evil in her past.
But she didn’t know the worst of them was me.
The one demon she should’ve shot the moment she opened her eyes.
The charade had gone on long enough.
But I didn’t have the strength to end it.
There would be no second chances. No moving past my heinous sins.
She would steal back her love and leave me destitute.
I would have only my anger.
I would have only my vengeance.
But ultimately, I would have nothing.
Eight Years Ago
Some say everything happens for a reason. That bad things happen to good people. That evil comes for the purest of us, and destinies can change in a blink.
I call bullshit.
I say we’re all fucking puppets being controlled by others. There’s no such thing as freedom. No such thing as fate. They’re all carefully maintained illusions.
I believed the lie once. I looked forward to my future. I held hope in my heart.
Now…
My eyes are open.
And I’ll never be so fucking naïve again.
“Take it, Killian.”
My eyes snapped up to latch onto the convict who’d tried to ass-rape me the day I arrived at Florida State. The key word in that sentence being he tried.
And failed.
Painfully and miserably.
Men had jumped on me from all corners. My pants were ripped down. My body pummeled with fists.
I’d lain there—ass naked and ready to be raped—when I’d seen two roads.
So distinct and real, I’d felt the roughness of dirt beneath my fingertips and the gleam of concrete in the sun.
Two choices.
One was to give up and let my life become a series of rapings and beatings until I died from either suicide or murder.
Or…
Kill every inch of the boy left inside me who believed he might one day be free of this life. Destroy any hope of ever having a pristine office overlooking Wall Street. That dream had been stolen the moment the handcuffs sliced around my wrists.
There was no trading for criminals.
My earliest dream had become unobtainable. It was torn away, and no matter what I did I wouldn’t achieve it. So my only option was to join them.
The choice had felt like it took years to make with my bare ass in the air and men fumbling with their waistbands, but in reality it only took microseconds.
I’d chosen the second path.
The one covered in dirt and filth.
The one destined to ruin me.
“Just take the fucking tray, will ya?” The jagged scar across the convict’s cheek was only just fading after a year. I’d done that to him with no remorse or second thoughts. He’d attacked and I’d defended.
Needless to say, I’d been given a wide berth ever since. No one wanted to mess with a man who’d murdered not one but three lives, and all before his eighteenth birthday.
Not even the guards tormented me. They knew I was in here for the long haul—it was best to get along, seeing as they were my family now.
Taking the tray of slop, I grinned coldly. “Thanks, Bradley. Hope there’s no extra in my mac and cheese. Else you and me… we’re gonna have another issue to solve.”
Bradley swallowed, anger glowing in his muddy eyes. “One year you’ve been in here, Killian. You’ve got your whole life in front of you. I wouldn’t be so keen to make such firm enemies if I were you.”
I cocked my head, grabbing a plastic knife and fork from the container. “Oh, really? So I should’ve let you rape me?” I sighed dramatically. “Don’t see your logic, but I’m happy to teach you another lesson.”
Fisting my cutlery and shitty lunch, I glowered. “See ya round, Bradley.”
I stalked away before he could mutter another word. My eyes scanned the dismal excuse of a cafeteria with uncomfortable bolted stools and metal tables. Everything was metal and cream or bolts and bars. It wasn’t fucking inspiring—shit, it was downright “slice your jugular and just give the fuck up right now” décor.
Life.
I have life in this godforsaken place.
Not for the first time and definitely not for the last, my hands curled, almost cracking the brittle plastic of the tray.
So fucking unfair.
So fucking painful.
She’s dead.
Don’t think about it.
My mind turned to the dark cesspit of memories. Hatred that never failed to choke me with blackness cloaked over my shoulders.
The betrayal. The dishonor. The manipulation.
I wanted to slam my tray to the floor and let loose the rage inside.
The day I’d walked in here, I ceased to be human and lived for only one thing.
One throbbing, vicious thing.
Vengeance.
Revenge.
Every fucking word that meant getting my own back.
That was me. I ate it. I breathed it. I fucking made love to it while I jerked off in my cell. It was the only love permitted in my soul—the only substance that kept me rising from my awful cot and facing yet another day in purgatory.
The only way I could survive every day knowing Cleo was no longer in it.
“Killian. He wants to see you.” A balding man in his late fifties appeared in my line of sight, barricading me from sitting at one of the identical depressing benches.
I gritted my teeth. “Get out of my way.”