Page 43 of Oathbreaker

I lean closer to him, putting my left hand on his forehead.

“Michael,” I say, grasping his hair so hard I feel a few strands rip out. “I want revenge.”

With a sharp jerk, I tip his head back and cleanly slice through the muscles, ligaments, and vessels of his throat.

He chokes as his brain tries to reconcile that his death is imminent. With wide eyes, his mouth opens and closes as his brain begs for air. He continues his desperate movements, slowing until he stills. As his life force leaves his body, I feel mine returning.

Control. I am in control of everything—even life itself.

Now I’ve taken Michael Uvalde’s.

Fifteen minutes later, once Michael Uvalde’s blood has slowed its trek out of his body, I call Leo to come with the cleanup crew. The call lasts ten seconds at most, and when I hang up, I take pictures of the corpse.

It’s not a trophy. It’s insurance. I step closer to his body, ensuring I capture his wide-eyed stare—his mouth open in an endless scream.

It was too quick.

I should have toyed with him more. Drawn out his torture. The only reason I ended him here was because I didn’t want Winter to somehow learn of it.

She doesn’t need to be touched by any of this any more than she has.

I turn the commissioner’s head away, examining my handiwork, when I notice a black blob on his neck, behind his right ear.

I don’t turn on the side lamp. Instead, I take out my penlight and shine it on his face.

I stare closer at the tattoo, trying to make sense of the markings.

It’s blurry, like the ink is old and perhaps done with crude tools. But the longer I stare at it, it takes shape.

An eye.

A buzzing takes up under my skin, a blend of the drop in adrenaline and unanswered questions.

“H.” I hear Leo’s voice call out from the front of the house. In the weeks following Winter’s return to Amelia Manor, he’s been even more severe, keeping his thoughts to himself more than usual.

He rarely leaves the estate these days.

Leo walks into the bedroom with three of our men and one of Misha’s.

He sighs. “Did you have to stick him like a pig? You couldn’t have just taken him to the crypts and done this clean?” The other men move around the room, analyzing the setup.

“It had to be here.” My plan to kill Parole Commissioner Michael Uvalde for his role in freeing Adam Collins came to me quickly. As I held Winter’s trembling body in my arms, I knew the only remedy to the impotence I felt at not being able to protect her or save her was to kill.

First Michael Uvalde. Then Benjamin Brigham, Morris Winthrope, and whoever else participated in harming Winter. They will all die by my hand.

Leo gives me a stern look. A concerned look. “We’ll clean this up, H.”

And then, I leave.

Amelia Manor is quiet, just like the commissioner’s house. Except here, I feel the life between the walls. I feel Winter’s presence, even though she rarely shows herself to me these days.

We’ve been home for two weeks, and Winter and I have fallen into a simple yet distant existence. She stays in the room down the hall from mine—it’s just as big and faces the rose garden. When I brought the doctor in to insert the tracker, she barely flinched.

Every morning, I accompany our housekeeper to deliver her breakfast. She has proven she won’t interact with anyone else otherwise. I make sure to open the curtains. The next morning, the curtains are always closed.

Leo had the forethought to make sure someone covered my car with plastic, and I strip naked after I pull the vehicle into the garage.

Rio will handle burning all the evidence. I use the back staircase to reach my room, heading for the shower.

---