What did she want from me? And more importantly, what did I want from her? —Kill, age sixteen

Holding her in my arms was sheer fucking torture.

Watching our old home disappear into smoke was a triumphant honor.

I was both happy and sad. Relieved and terrified.

Cleo was safe. Dagger Rose was destroyed. But my father was still out there … plotting my demise as I plotted his.

These cat-and-mouse games had to stop.

I thought of all the times I could’ve dispatched him. I could’ve slaughtered him the moment I was released from jail. But where was the glory in that? Where was the joy in delivering an easy death to a man who deserved agony instead?

I wanted to make him pay.

So, I’d worked tirelessly on plans and elaborate conquests, concocting ideas to bring him to his knees.

I wanted him suffering.

I wanted him to beg me to chop off his head with my rightful vengeance.

That pleasure belonged to me. I was owed that.

So why did I feel as if I’d failed Cleo all over again?

Why had she paid another fucking price in my quest for perfect revenge?

Because something deeper than revenge now rules you.

Cleo eclipsed everything. She was my Sagittarius, my soul mate, my best friend. Not only had I failed her once and persecuted us to eight years apart, but she’d also been harmed twice at my father’s hand. She’d suffered more than she ever should and it was all because of me and my need to settle the score.

I wanted to forget about my goal—to halt the guillotine hovering over both our futures—because if I didn’t, if I continued chasing death, then I didn’t deserve her.

And I want so fucking much to deserve her.

While I’d been busy preparing for Rubix’s death, he’d been busy preparing mine.

Twin graves.

Twin murders.

And if he won, he would take Cleo.

That can’t fucking happen.

This wasn’t about my need for perfection anymore.

This was about ending it so Cleo was safe.

There was no time for pleasure or precision.

War was no longer coming.

It was here.

Chapter Nine

Cleo

Mom had taught me how to apply lipstick and mascara.

She said makeup could be used in all forms of warfare. She said I could use it against Arthur. To make him fall, make him stumble. She said I had all the power. But I didn’t agree. No matter what weapon I chose, I couldn’t break through his walls. I couldn’t get him to admit the truth. He hid behind secrets—trying to protect me with silence. He didn’t understand that he hurt me more by ignoring what was between us, rather than facing it and giving me a chance. —Cleo, diary entry, age thirteen

“Where did you get this car from?” I asked as Arthur gently placed me on the beige leather backseat. The front consoles gleamed with newness and a Mercedes logo glittered on the steering wheel.

Arthur gave me half a smile, tucking the duvet around me and brushing hair away from my blood-sticky cheeks. “No idea. It’s Grasshopper’s new … acquisition.”

My ears pricked at the half-truth. “He stole a car?”

His eyes narrowed. “Seriously, after everything that’s just happened you’re pissed over a boost?”

Trying to soften my shock, I smiled teasingly. “Just because you have money doesn’t mean you can take anything you fancy.”

He relaxed, light returning to his strained gaze. “I think you’ll find that’s exactly what having money means. Look it up—I’ll bet you that’s the definition in the dictionary.”

Rolling my eyes, I winced as my head throbbed in response.

Note to self: don’t roll eyes.

“What do you bet me?” I never looked away from him. The moment stretched like a kitten, aged like a fine wine. It was so nice to just be … to enjoy a tiny respite of normalcy.

How long had it been since Rubix took me?

Time felt both longer and shorter.

The past eight years had faded to inconsequential along with every other second that we were apart. Vibrancy only entered my life when he was in it.

“I bet you …” His voice trailed off, thoughts flickering like colors in his gaze. “I bet you an orgasm.”

“A what?” I giggled, ignoring my hammering head.

“You heard me.” He glanced at my lips. “I’ll show you that wealth means you can have anything you want. If I’m wrong and you win, I’ll give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had. I’ll obey whatever you ask. I’ll do whatever you need.”

My heart faltered in favor of a quivering clench. “And if I lose?”

His lips turned up into a wicked smile. “If you forfeit and I win, you have to do what I want. Submit to whatever I desire.” His arms bunched as he planted them on either side of me. “Let me rule you.”

Rule me now.

I shivered as the air crackled with belonging.

I was mostly naked, Arthur was in pain, and Dagger Rose was in flames behind us, but our desire was a stronger force—knitting us together after our time apart.

I’d never get used to the intensity between us.

Untangling my hand from the bedding, I held it up to strike our bargain. “Deal.”

Arthur shook his head, amused. Taking my hand, he shook firmly and rolled his shoulders to slide backward out of the door. “Deal.”

He looked happier than before—less burdened and bruised, but his gaze still held acres of pain. “Oh, and, Buttercup? I already know what I’ll make you do when I win.”