Twisted Together

My anger filled the car interior with swirling silver rage. “I want to make them pay. I want to give them everything they deserve.”

I’m going to show them how it feels to die slowly. How it feels to be soulless.

Franco took a while to reply, picking up Q’s letter and placing it on the seat beside us. The presence of Q’s penmanship and final thoughts took up space—filling the vehicle with his merciless love. He’d taken everything from me. My heart. My mind. My soul.

I would never forgive him for that.

“We’ll make them pay,” he muttered. “You have my word.”

My mind stained red. All the fight inside to remain good and pure disappeared. I threw myself headfirst into blackness. I accepted my life had changed forever. I had no intention of staying alive without him.

I would follow Q. It was the only option. Die or live an eternity locked in a tower unfeeling. I couldn’t survive this unsurmountable grief. I couldn’t let it consume me because if I did I would be washed away forever.

I had work to do before I died.

I had vengeance to deliver.

Violence. Blood. Screams. I wanted it all. I would make Q proud. I would avenge him.

You stole him from me.

You stole any chance of a happy life.

I was beyond angry. I was catatonic with rage. Tears had no place in the black void I existed in. Only greed—greed for killing. I would steal more than their lives in return.

I would steal their murderous souls.

Our convoy of killers gathered ranks outside the high hedges ringing the hellhole where my maître had died.

It didn’t matter the sun sparkled, turning the world into a better place. All I saw was darkness. All I lived was darkness. All I wanted was death.

He’s gone. But I’m going to join him.

Franco shattered my single-mindedness, dragging me back to an existence I no longer wanted to live.

Grabbing my hand, he forcibly curled my fingers around a gun. Squeezing me hard, his face shone with ruthlessness and pain. His injuries drained him, but he survived on bloodlust—same as me.

“Promise me, whatever happens in there. You come out alive. Don’t be reckless. He wouldn’t want that.”

I promise to be reckless. I promise to ignore everything Q wants because he left me.

Q was gone. There would be no wedding. There would be no happiness.

Why would I agree to survive in a Q-less world?

I was done fighting. I was ready to join my master in a place that wouldn’t tear us apart. I was done living in fear and terror—expecting the worst. I was done living.

But first—I would paint the sprawling villa in blood.

“I promise.” The obvious lie hung like a filthy cloud. Franco scowled.

I hefted the weight of the weapon, counting the victims I wished I’d killed. Q had stolen that right, too. He’d killed on my behalf. Now it was my turn.

Leather Jacket.

White Man.

Jagged Scar.

All of them dead at his hand. Lynx was mine. Lynx was dead already and I rejoiced knowing I’d taken his soul. I no longer had any aversion to killing. This was right. They deserved to die. And I would gladly buy a ticket to hell in order to grant closure to my pain.

He’s gone.

But soon, I would join him.

Franco sighed. “Let Blair and his team go in first. I’ve assigned Vincent to go in with you, seeing as I’ll be hobbling.” Pinching my chin, forcing my vacant eyes to meet his, he added, “I’ll protect your life with my own—just like I did him. But you have to stay alive in order for me to do that. He wouldn’t want you to—”

My stomach churned. “Don’t tell me what he wanted, Franco. He’s lost that right because he’s dead.”

Franco blanched. “Tess—you can’t let this—”

“Can’t let it what? Kill me? Ruin me? You expect me to roll into a ball and cry my heart out? I’m past being told what I can and can’t do. Stay out of my way, Franco. Let me find peace my way. Otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what I’ll do.” Clutching my gun, I snapped, “Leave me the hell alone!”

His face darkened but understanding crossed his features. “I know the rage you’re feeling. I know it’s swallowing you whole. But, Tess—don’t run in the opposite direction of who you are.”

I growled low and long. “Shut up. Just shut up!”

You know Q wouldn’t want this.

I shut myself up. I didn’t want any thoughts or doubts. I wanted to stay in the clean clarity of vengeance.

Franco patted my shoulder. “I get it. I do. And I won’t say anymore. But if you do this, you will never run from fear again.”

I stroked my gun, counting the seconds till I could fire it. “If I do this, I become fear.” I locked eyes with him. “I’ll no longer be afraid. They’ll be afraid of me.” I’d never be a victim again because I would no longer have anything precious to tear from me. I was empty. I would stay empty until I died.

In a way that gave me power. Unlimited power I intended to wield on them. They’d turned me into a monster. They’d turned me into Q.

“I agree.” Placing a hand on mine, he murmured, “Just don’t forget you’re human, too.”

I ignored the hidden messages. I didn’t pay attention to the hint that I shouldn’t throw myself completely into my murderous rage. I didn’t care if I lost myself. There was no one waiting for me to return this time.

A man in black military wear broke away from the milling shadows of Q’s entourage. Coming toward us, he moved with stealthy confidence. His hands were free but two guns rested on his hips; multiple knives hung across his chest in a scabbard. Pulling the black beanie further over his blond hair, he said, “Ready when you are, sir.”

Another man, taller with a rifle slung over his shoulder, appeared with a stick. Passing it to Franco, he grinned wryly. “Never provided a walking cane to go into a rampage but I think you need some help getting about.”

I wanted to throw up. Jokes! They were making jokes?

How can they? Tears sprang up my spine, clawing their way painfully through my coldheartedness. I didn’t want them. I didn’t want caustic healing in the form of tears. Empty. Stay empty.

Franco bared his teeth. “Get that piece of shit away from me. I’m doped up to my eyeballs with painkillers. I can run while I don’t feel it.”

The man tossed the stick to the verge. “Your funeral.”

The image of Franco dead cleaved my wounded heart. No, I wouldn’t let anyone else die. I was done losing people I cared for.