Page 3 of Veiled Vengeance

She sobs, and I kneel down next to her. Leaning in close, I plant a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’ll never let you forget me.” Then I raise both arms and plunge the pruning shears into her stomach.

Her mouth opens with a silent scream. Pain is written across her face.

Good. My Flower needs to feel my pain.

She blinks a few times, and her eyes are no longer honey, they’re chocolate.

An enraged scream blows past my lips, and I bring the pruning shears down into the body of the woman below me over and over. Almost every surface in the shop drips red, and Natalie’s eyes remain open and lifeless as she lies there, on the ground.

A groan draws my attention to the man rolling over the broken glass. Chad attempts to crawl towards the door, so I stand and grab his foot, pulling him next to Natalie. “You lied!”

He holds his hands out in front of him, hoping to ward me off. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m really sorry. Please. I’ll—I’ll make it up to you.”

“Too late.” I grab his hair at the crown of his head and pull back, exposing his neck. Then I drag the point of the shears across his exposed skin. Arterial blood sprays my face.

A tattered breath passes through my lungs as I pocket the shears and pull my handkerchief out of my suit pocket.

What the stupid shows on TV don’t tell you is that blood doesn’t wash off easily, and now my suit is ruined. I wipe the handkerchief across my face and leave the shop.

My driver is leaning against the car but jumps when he sees me. His lips part in surprise. “Are you okay, Mr. Cole? Should I take you to the hospital?”

I shake my head. “Back to Teterboro.”

“Are you sure? You’re covered in?—”

My jaw tenses. “You’re not paid to ask questions. You’re paid to drive. Now drive.”

“Yes, Mr. Cole.”

I sigh, sinking into the leather seat.

It’s too bad he’s seen too much.

CHAPTER 1

SPENCER

Ican’t feel anything.

I think this is what psychologists call disassociation. I’m unable to scrounge up an ounce of care—not even for Iris, my friend. I should be strong for her; she’s been one of my main supports this year. I should tell her that I will get us out of this. Ihaveto get us out of this.

“Iris?” I hiss at her. She still isn’t awake, but moans.

“Ignore her, Flower.”

“Iris, wake up,” I try again.

The sun is now firmly over the horizon. The light illuminates the discoloration on Asher’s and Iris’s skin. The dry blood on Asher’s temple, nose, and lip has turned a dark rust hue. The heat from the summer air hugs the windows from the outside, but the chill of the room clings to my skin, covering my body in goosebumps.

Asher looks to me with his one swollen eye. Pity fills his face as he cautions me. “Spencer, no.” He shakes his head, warning me to stop.

Stop what? Stop trying? I can’t. My mom . . . No. Not yet. I’ll think about that later.

Anthony turns his back to me while he takes a phone call and gives more orders to his men.

“I’m going to get us out of here. Don’t worry,” I assure him in hushed tones.

“Rio and Zane will come for us—we discussed this. We just need to survive until they get here.”

---