Page 49 of Carnival Shadows

“We need to talk about your little pet project,” he says.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed. “Eden’s under control.”

“Is she?” Ty’s eyes narrow. “Because letting her wander around seems like the opposite of control.”

“She won’t run.”

“That’s not the point.” He leans forward. “She’s a liability. A true crime podcaster who’s seen too much. The smart play here is to make her disappear. Clean. Simple.”

The suggestion hits me so hard I want to murder Ty. My hands clench into fists, and I push off the wall, looming over his desk. “That’s not happening.”

“Remy—”

“No.” My voice comes out as a growl. “Eden’s off limits. She’s mine.”

“You’re thinking with your dick instead of your head.” Ty stands, matching my stance. “One anonymous tip from her and everything we’ve built here crashes down.”

“Touch her,” I snarl, “and you’ll find out exactly how much control I have over my impulses.”

The threat hangs heavy in the air between us. Ty studies me for a long moment. “You better know what you’re doing.”

I turn and yank open the door, pausing only to look back over my shoulder. “I do. And Eden stays alive. End of discussion.”

I stalk away from Ty’s office, my blood still boiling. The morning sun does nothing to calm the rage coursing through my veins. My hands clench into fists, staving off the urge to wrap them around his throat for suggesting we harm Eden.

The familiar itch creeps up my spine—that burning need to hurt, to destroy. I’ve controlled it for years, channeling it into the carnival’s criminal operations. But threatening what’s mine? That awakens something far worse.

I spot Lars working on the Ferris wheel and redirect my path. He tenses as I approach, likely sensing the danger radiating off me.

“Need something broken?” he asks.

A harsh laugh escapes me. “More like someone.” I crack my knuckles, the sound sharp in the morning air. “Ty seems to forget who handles the messy parts of our operation.”

Lars sets down his wrench. “He’s business-minded. Clean and efficient.”

“Clean?” I spit the word out. “There’s nothing clean about what we do. He pretends his hands aren’t dirty because he doesn’t often do the dirty work himself.”

The memories flash through my mind of every throat I’ve crushed, every body I’ve disposed of. Ty gives the orders, but I’m one of the ones who makes people disappear. Not because I have to, but because I want to—because something inside me craves it.

“Ty’s never understood,” I continue, my voice dropping lower. “He thinks this is just about money. But some of us need this.”

Lars takes a small step back, and I realize my hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists. The predator in me recognizes his fear and feeds on it. This is what sets me apart from Ty.

Now I have Eden. Someone who sees the monster and wants to embrace it rather than run from it, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take her from me.

Lars takes another measured step back, his eyes fixed on my clenched fists. “You’re right. Ty doesn’t understand, but Eden does, doesn’t she?”

The sound of her name cuts through the red haze of anger. I inhale sharply, forcing my fingers to uncurl.

“That’s why you’re protecting her,” Lars continues. “She sees the real you.”

“She doesn’t just see it.” I lean against the Ferris wheel’s metal frame. “She craves it.”

Lars picks up his wrench again, seeming to sense the immediate danger has passed. “Then Ty’s wrong about her being a liability. She’s an asset.”

A harsh laugh escapes me. “Since when did you become so insightful?”

“Someone has to be the voice of reason around here.” He shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Can’t all be unhinged psychos like you, Gage, and Cade.”

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