Page 68 of Brutal King

But I barely register any of it. Not the escaping teen or my angry sidekick. All I see is Clive’s body, the blood pooled beneath him.

And I feel… nothing. There’s no relief. No joy.

There never is.

“Even dead, they don’t bring me peace,” I whisper to myself, but Skye hears me.

“That’s because revenge rarely does,” she sneers. “You’re killing people for nothing.”

I look at her numbly. “What would you know of revenge? Have you ever tasted it?”

“No. But I don’t need to to know it’s not as sweet as they say. All it does is leave you hungry for more. You’re living proof.”

For a moment, I’m left speechless. She’s struck a nerve I wasn’t aware I had. A fear that it doesn’t matter how many of them I kill, I’ll never find satisfaction. That I’ll be unable to fill the void my father left.

It enrages me, beyond what it should, that she would make the suggestion when I’m already so unsure. Will I be forever hungry for revenge, even after all I’ve done? Can I live with it?

I force a smile onto my face. “Ah, but it is. In fact, I’m going to give you a little taste right now.”

From my back pocket, I tug out my Glock. I pull back the hammer and place my fingertip on the trigger. Before I can manage to aim it toward Arran’s head, Skye tears herself away from the man holding her and is on me, beating at me with all the rage of a wild animal protecting her own.

Somehow, I manage to throw her off. I aim the gun at Arran, but she stands in front of him. “You’re done here, Gideon. You got what you came for. You fucked with all of us. Now go.”

“Get out of the fucking way,” I yell. If killing Clive wasn’t enough, maybe Arran will be.

“Skye, what are you doing? Move!” Arran attempts to push her with his shoulder.

“Move, Skye,” I demand as well.

“No!”

I stare at her intensely, threatening her with my firearm. But she doesn’t budge. She’s willing to give her life for him without fear.

And I can’t bring myself to hurt her.

Scarlet returns to my side. “Luca and his men are pulling down the street. Maisie’s headed toward them. We need to go.”

“How the fuck do they know where we are?” I look at Arran, and he shrugs, but there’s a smugness in his gaze that tells me he had something to do with it. I shove the gun back into my holster. “Keep your head down and you’ll live. Take Clive’s place, and you’ll end up buried beside him.”

I toss two pennies into Clive’s blood. With that, we retreat out the back.

When Father took his revenge on the men that killed my mother, he came back strong and full of life. There was a lightness to his step as I followed him through the house and we made plans for the future. Everything would be different. Life would be better. My mother could move on.

Yet, when I return to Kingsbrook, I’m empty and numb in spite of my success. Clive Maxton is dead. I’m one step closer.Yet, like with all of the ones before him, I feel none of the pleasure that should have been my reward.

The fire in the great room is roaring, casting a warm glow all the way into the foyer. It doesn’t touch the chill that’s filled me since the events that took place a few hours ago.

Something like shame and regret begin to form in the pit of my stomach as I recall the way Skye shook and her sister cried. I tell myself that there was a lesson for everyone involved, though now that the anger is gone, it’s becoming harder to remember just what that was. I tell myself Clive deserved it. That it doesn’t matter that like me, he seemed to think his actions were justified.

I tell myself those things even as I begin to question everything. Shouldn’t it be different by now? Feel different?

I remain there for a long while, staring into the hearth, wondering where the relief is. If it will ever come. The answer eludes me and the temperature inside me plummets.

I’m shaking, my entire being caught in a seismic episode caused by sudden doubt.

Unable to bear the chill and hollowness any longer, I go to Sofia’s room. She’s curled up on the window bench, the comforter drawn up over her shoulders. I lift her into my arms and she stirs.

“You’re back,” she whispers sleepily. “What’s wrong? Luca?”

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