Page 83 of The Colour of Revenge
Carina steps forward with the poise of a predator, her every move deliberate. Carmichael’s eyes widen in panic, and for the first time tonight, I relax.
Because my girl? She’s got this. And me? I’ve got her.
"Hi, Michael," she whispers, her voice as sharp as a blade. She stops just in front of him, towering over him despite her smaller frame.
"Naomi," he spits, his mouth tightening into a strained frown. The sound of her real name from his lips has me clenching my fists. He doesn’t get to remind her of the person she used to be, the person she wants to forget. "You've grown up."
Carina doesn't flinch. She tilts her head, considering him like he's something small and pitiful. "Bet you wish I hadn’t," she fires back, her words laced with venom.
His lips press into a thin line. "What do you want?"
She leans in, her breath ghosting over his face. "What do you think I want, Michael?"
"Money?" he blurts out, desperation creeping in.
I can’t help the laugh that bursts from me, loud and mocking. "You idiot. If she needed money, she could just ask me."
Michael's eyes dart to me, his brow furrowing. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Nate," I drawl, stepping forwards with a sneer. "Her sugar daddy." I let the words roll off my tongue with deliberate flair, earning a laugh from Carina that brightens the entire room. It’s the kind of laugh that reminds me why I’d burn the world down for her.
But then Michael speaks again. "You always were a slut."
The air changes.
My blood simmers with fury, every muscle in my body tensing as I fight the urge to pummel him right here and now. But this isn’t my moment. This is hers.
Carina’s playful demeanour vanishes, replaced with a look so cold it could freeze fire. Her lips curl into a slow, menacing smile. "I wouldn’t have said that, Michael," she warns, her tone low and deadly.
Kai, silent as ever, holds out a knife. Her knife. The pink one.
She takes it without hesitation.
Then she drives it into Michael's thigh.
He screams, his body jerking against the restraints, but she doesn't stop. She yanks the blade free and slams it into his other leg. Blood pools, staining the floor, and still, she doesn't blink.
"You always were a piece of work," he spits, gritting through the pain. "Clearly, no one broke you enough."
“Ti uccido brutto stronzo3,” Carina mutters under her breath. Then she drags the knife up his chest, slicing open his shirt. The blade catches flesh, and Michael grits his teeth, sweat beading his forehead.
"How did it feel?" she whispers. "Spending the last week looking over your shoulder? Wondering when it would happen?"
Carmichaels eyes flash wide with recognition. “That was you.”
“Yes.”
Carmichael lets out a wheezy laugh, his lips curling into a cruel sneer despite the blood dripping from his chest. "You think this makes you strong? You’re still just that scared little girl crying for her daddy to save her. Too bad he never did."
Carina freezes for the briefest of moments, her knuckles white around the hilt of her knife. Her entire body is coiled like a spring, vibrating with barely contained fury.
"You should’ve stayed broken, Naomi," Carmichael continues, his voice low and venomous. "Men like me? We’re the only thing you’re good for. If you had any brains, you’d still be on your knees, where you belong."
The words barely leave his mouth before I move.
In one fluid motion, I close the distance between us, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the chair.
"That’s enough," I growl, my voice cold as ice. My grip tightens, cutting off his air as his face flushes red.
