Page 3 of Final Vendetta

Because this was the moment I realized the true cost of my need for revenge.

Henry swallowed hard, his voice barely audible as he uttered the one name I didn’t want to hear.

“Imogene Prescott.”

Chapter One

Gideon

The city lights zoomed past the window as we careened down the freeway, Henry’s hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

I struggled to process what led to this moment, my mind a blur. All I could see was the image that had flashed across the television screen mere minutes ago.

James Turner’s car speeding recklessly through the streets of Santa Monica.

The crunching impact as he slammed into another SUV.

The twisted metal wreckage that had become of the car.

Henry’s hesitant voice telling me the car he hit belonged to Imogene.

“Breathe, Gideon.” Henry broke through my thoughts, his eyes sharp with worry as he glanced my way. “It’ll be okay.”

“Okay?” I scoffed bitterly.

My voice didn’t sound like my own. It sounded far away. Like all of this was a horrible dream.

How I wished that were true.

“Imogene is hurt because of me, Henry. I don’t even know if…”

I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud, my biggest fear clawing its way through me from the inside out.

For the first time since this nightmare began, my carefully constructed façade had begun to crumble. I’d spent years learning how to keep every emotion and impulse buried beneath a mask that never slipped. But tonight? My chest felt like it was caving in.

I’d been so damn focused on settling the score, blinded by the need to make those who’d taken everything from me pay. But in my obsession, I hadn’t seen the potential price someone else might pay.

I hadn’t seen the priceImogenemight pay.

She’d left me because of this, walked away from the darkness I’d let consume me. I convinced myself it was for the best. That I was on a suicide mission anyway.

Now, there was a very real possibility Imogene could be dead.

Because of me.

The thought made me sick.

I gripped the seat tightly as dread gnawed at my insides. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. This wasn’t what I wanted when I started down this road.

“We don’t know anything yet,” Henry tried to assure me in the calm, collected way he did everything. “Just stay positive.”

I pressed my hands into fists, resisting the urge to slam them into the dashboard as Henry raced down another stretch of road. Everything about this night felt like a punishment, like karma coming back to collect what was due. Each second brought a fresh wave of panic, outrage, and guilt crashing over me. I was unraveling, the pieces of who I was scattered like debris on the side of that road with the remnants of Imogene’s shattered car.

When we screeched to a stop in front of the hospital’s emergency entrance, I flung open the door and sprinted towardan ambulance that had just arrived, red and blue lights casting harsh shadows across the pavement.

My heart thrashed in my chest as I watched the hospital staff rush toward the ambulance, hurriedly pulling out a stretcher.

And lying on that stretcher, Imogene’s broken body was barely recognizable.

---