Page 15 of The Colour of Revenge
How dare he?
How dare he remind me of that time?
How dare he make me seem weak?
The anger inside me ignites. Hotter. Brighter. Deadlier.
I don’t fight it.
“What did you do, Gareth? What led you here?” I spit the words like venom, my rage boiling beneath my skin as I stalk towards him.
His lips part. “I... I...”
“Spit it out!”
The shout is sharper, louder than I intended, and my breath catches. My hand tightens on the knife, pressing harder against his collarbone. Not enough to break the skin. But enough to make him flinch.
Enough to make him afraid.
He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I betrayed you.” His voice cracks. His eyes—wide and desperate—search mine, looking for something.
Looking for mercy.
There isn’t any.
“How?” My voice is quieter now but no less sharp.
His gaze flicks to the knife. Then back to me.
“I helped your father sell you.”
My grip tightens.
“I told you I’d protect you. Then I drove you to Winslow.”
His confession slams into me. A knife to the ribs.
I already knew. But hearing it? Feeling it? It’s something else entirely.
It’s a different kind of wound.
I smile. Sweet. Soft. Fake. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
Relief floods his face. His shoulders sag, his breath stuttering. He thinks honesty will save him.
He’s wrong.
My fingers ghost over the ropes, binding his wrists. He sighs in relief. He thinks he’s safe.
The knife slams down.
I don’t mean to drive it so deep. But I do.
A scream rips from his throat, raw and high. It cuts through the room.
I freeze.
The blood pours from his hand. Crimson spills onto the floor, staining the linoleum. The copper tang fills the air.
