Page 50 of Vengeful King

So this guy has at least one loan shark on his bankroll. It’s not some independent grunt with a grudge. This is someone with strings to pull.

But why not just send one of his own men to do the job? It’s not like attempted hits have never happened before. They’re all kept quiet, usually failing, usually ending in the attacker getting away or being killed somehow in the action. It’s rare for an assassin to be captured.

They’re usually told that once they’re in enemy hands, they’re done. And some of them kill themselves before they can be interrogated, especially if they’re with a family that has less leniency when it comes to prisoners.

Despite everything she’s telling me, I still feel no closer to guessing who could be after me. I don’t think it’s someone new to the game, but that’s about all I know.

I watch Katrina run a hand over her arm, clearing soap off. There’s a relief in her eyes, like it feels good to have given everything up. But I can also see resignation and dread in her gaze.

Clearly, she thinks she’s going to suffer for failing. For telling me. She held out so long that there’s no other explanation.

I respect how long she held out. I respect how she handled her situation, even if it was me she was targeting. I know enough to know she isn’t a killer. She’s just a woman who was given an impossible mission.

“Is there anything else you can remember?”

She closes her eyes. “I could smell leather, a little bit. Maybe alcohol, but it was fainter.”

Nice car. Expensive taste, or drunk tendencies.I shake my head. It’s a good detail, but there’s little to go on. I have to find more.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I finally say.

She turns to look at me, gaze quickly snapping to my face like she’s looking for a lie. She won’t find one. I have what I want from her, but I still need her. I’m not going to throw her away when she’s still useful.

And besides that, this attraction is still burning in my gut. I still can’t untangle the desire I have. It may be selfish and stupid, but I’m not willing to let it go yet. I’m not willing to completely erase her. I still want her, even if it means compromising my footing to let her live.

I can see she isn’t still trying to finish her assignment. I’ve broken through the last wall she put up. I can handle her, and there’s no reason to just kill her.

That’s what I tell myself, but I know I’ll have to explain myself to my brothers. Especially once enough time passes.

They’ll ask why she’s living with me, and I won’t be able to tell them it’s because I don’t trust anyone else with her.I want her with me.

Maybe it’s a bad idea to keep her with me, but I don’t see another way out. And besides, I have a job for her to do.

“You’re going to help me figure out who wants me dead.”

Her eyes widen. In a split second, I can see terror in her eyes, burning down to her core. She knows what could happen.

She’s going from one impossible situation to the next.

Seeing this fear, I know for certain that she never could have killed me. The antifreeze was a lucky break, and the only reason it nearly worked is because I wanted her. Because I let her too close in the first place.

Looking at Katrina now, I can see she’s not meant for assassination plots and convoluted mafia games. She’s just trying to survive. For whatever reason, she has debts, and those debts are killing her.

If I hadn’t been the one she targeted, and if I wasn’t so willing to let her live long enough to get answers, she’d be dead by now. If she’d targeted any other family, she might have been dead before she left the office.

But she’s not. She’s here with me.

When the terror fades, all that’s left in her expression is the realization that she has no choice. Her lips press together, a solid acceptance setting in her features. She knows if she doesn’t help, I have to kill her.

I can’t let her live after this. Not when she knows everything about me. Not when she’s been so close to the family.

Now that I have what I want, all my anger has faded. The frustration and fury I felt before when I visited her in the basement is gone. It’s almost surprising how there’s no trace of it left, no remaining disdain. It was easy to make myself feel like she was just another monster. I’d met so many before.

But now, with the truth on the table and Katrina naked in the bathtub, I don’t feel the same. I can see her for what she is—a woman desperately trying to survive. I can’t fault that.

In fact, I have some respect for it.

I get up from beside the tub and take a few steps to my phone. I don’t look back to see if she’s drying off or still in the water; I don’t look back to see if she’s going to attack me. I know she won’t.

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