Page 77 of Carnival Mayhem

Flora hums softly under her breath—some Christmas carol that seems oddly fitting despite our macabre activity. Colt shoots her an amused look but doesn’t comment; he just keeps working with that hint of a smile on his lips.

“Pass me that bag,” Colt murmurs, and Flora hands it over without breaking her rhythm. We’ve done this cleanup routine countless times before, Colt and me, but having Flora here feels right. Natural. She was always meant to be part of this, too.

I gather the tools while Colt handles the heavier items. As we finish our work, the floor gleams under the harsh lights. Not a spot is missed, and not a trace is left behind.

Flora stands between us, her shoulders relaxed, her head held high. Pride swells in my chest as I watch her. She’s transformed from the scared girl who first came to us into someone stronger and darker, making us more complete.

I catch Colt’s eye as Flora notices the metal hooks embedded in the wall. Her curiosity was bound to surface eventually.

“Why does the carnival have a place like this?” Flora asks, examining the drain in the center of the concrete floor. “It’s pretty... specific.”

“Sometimes the carnival needs private spaces,” I say, keeping my tone casual while I wrap the last of our tools in plastic.

Colt snorts. “That’s one way to put it.” He tosses me a fresh rag, and I catch it without looking.

Flora raises an eyebrow, her hands on her hips. “Private spaces with industrial-grade cleaning supplies and reinforced doors?”

“Observant little bird,” I say, impressed by her attention to detail. She’s sharp—maybe too sharp for her own good.

“Just part of carnival life.” Colt steps behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. His deflection technique needs work, but Flora melts into his embrace anyway. “Speaking of which, we should get back. You’ve got silk practice in the morning.”

“Nice try.” Flora turns in his arms, poking his chest. “You two are hiding something. This place isn’t just for... personal revenge.”

I exchange a look with Colt over Flora’s head. His jaw tightens.

“She’ll figure it out anyway,” I say to him, ignoring Flora’s narrowed eyes. “You know how she is.”

“Ty won’t like it.” Colt’s arms tighten around Flora’s waist. “We’re not supposed to?—”

“I’m right here,” Flora cuts in, jabbing his chest. “Stop talking about me like I’m not in the room.”

I step closer, running my fingers down her arm. “You’re right. No more secrets between us.”

“Nash—” Colt starts, but I shake my head.

“Fuck it. Ty can deal with it.” I cup Flora’s face, making her look at me. “We move product and use the carnival as a facade. Drugs, mainly cocaine. This lockup? It’s one of many in all theareas where we deal. It’s reserved in case we need to handle problems during deals.”

Colt sighs. “Way to ease her into it.”

“Would you rather I sugar-coated it?” I keep my eyes on Flora’s face, watching for any sign of fear or disgust. “We can’t keep things from each other. Not anymore. Not after everything.”

I study Flora’s face, searching for any hint of revulsion or judgment. But there’s only determination in those hazel eyes as they meet mine.

“I want in,” she says. “Not just watching from the sidelines. I want to be part of everything you and Colt do.”

Colt’s arms tighten around her waist. “Angel, this isn’t?—”

“Don’t.” Flora cuts him off. “Don’t tell me it’s too dangerous. I’ve proven I can handle myself.”

She’s right. How she dealt with Tommy and Jake showed us exactly what she’s capable of.

The way she handled those barrels of acid without hesitation still amazes me. Most people would have balked at the task, but not our girl.

She’d helped us roll the heavy containers into position, her delicate features set with determination. When I explained that burial wasn’t an option due to the frozen ground, she simply nodded and asked for thick gloves. There were no questions, no squeamish reactions—just pure acceptance and efficiency.

The memory of her methodically helping to dismember the bodies and put them into the corrosive liquid makes my chest tighten with pride. She didn’t flinch at the sizzling sounds or the acrid fumes. Just stood there, steady and focused, as what remained of her tormentors dissolved into nothing.

Colt was worried she might break down, but Flora proved stronger than we expected. She watched the process with an almost clinical detachment, those hazel eyes clear andunwavering. When the job was done, she simply peeled off her protective gear and asked what needed cleaning next.

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