Page 112 of The King of Hearts

I know I’m not totally sound of mind. My experience in Henry’s basement and his creepy obsession should have left me running scared when I opened that first box containing a heart, even more so when Ryker approached me in my room right after. Any normal person would have. I don’t know what it is about the enigmatic Ryker. I only know he makes me feel safe, something I haven’t truly felt since before Henry. Seeing that heart and knowing Ryker killed the person it belonged to because he said some nasty things and barely touched me proved that he would protect me at all costs.

Instead of hurting me to get what he wants—which is what Henry did—he’d hurt everyone else. No one is safe from his wrath when it comes to me.

I like that. Ireallylike that.

“Baby,” he calls, and I blink back into focus.

“What?”

He reaches beneath the cabinet for the jug of formaldehyde and plops it on the counter. Next, he grabs an empty jar situated beside the ones filled with hearts. I grab the top and slide the jar toward me, then screw off the lid.

“The heart you gave me at the cliff, who did it belong to?” I ask as I shove Joseph’s heart through the jar’s opening. I have to squish the sides a bit because the heart is a little too big.

“Shane Ballot.”

I frown because the name doesn’t sound familiar.

“He was recently hired to kidnap you. Your father found out and had him captured. Once he extracted all of the information out of him that he could, I went behind his back and killed him.”

The heart falls in the jar with a thump, and I pour the vinegar and burnt match-smelling liquid on top.

“I don’t understand. Who hired him?”

The muscle beside his eye twitches. “He didn’t know. The person never showed his identity to Shane.”

I screw the lid on and set the jar beside the other ones. Ryker takes out another jar and passes it to me.

For some reason, the fear I should feel isn’t there. It’s strange, after everything I went through as a teenager, the terror I felt after being in Henry’s basement, and the same terror I felt receiving those notes years later, I should be scared out of my mind.

But I’m not, and I think it has everything to do with my new husband. I feel safe with him. I know with every ounce of certainty that he won’t allow anyone or anything to hurt me.

I drop that subject for now, but I intend to revisit it later.

“When did you find out?” I ask instead.

“That you’re The Butcher?”

I pause and flick my gaze to him. “Yes.”

“I knew from the beginning,” he reveals, shocking me. “You were never alone when you killed those bastards. I was always there, hiding in the shadows.”

Now that I think back, I remember feeling a presence nearby. Every single time, needles pricked the back of my neck, like someone was watching. The first couple of times, I almost stopped my task because of the weird feeling, but ultimately, I discounted it as being paranoid. In time, I grew to find comfort in the sensation.

“Why?” He raises a brow at my question. “Why were you always there?”

“Do you honestly think I would let you do it alone? That I would allow you to put yourself in danger?”

Irritation heats my cheeks, and I shoot him a glare. “I’ve always managed just fine. The paralyzing agent I use makes them not a danger.”

He steps closer, invading my space. “It’s those moments before you inject them, Vicious. A single moment could change everything. One well-placed punch and it would be over for you. There’s not a chance in hell I was allowing that to happen. You’ve been lucky so far. I wasn’t going to test that luck.”

“I always had Marcelo with me.”

“Wasn’t good enough. I trust my guard with your life only to an extent.”

I know what he’s saying is true, but it still irks me. Being an independent woman, I don’t like the thought of depending on a man, but I’m also a realist. Most men are physically stronger than women, and the possibility of being overpowered is very real.

Only Marcelo knows of my extracurricular activities. In the dead of night, when I leave the island by the private boat I have hidden on the opposite side, he always accompanies me. When I hunt my victims down, he’s there, but always in the background. I don’t allow him to assist me in any way, preferring to take on that bloody task on my own.

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