When I look up, a tear hangs on his fair lashes. That’s when I see that behind the cheater, the abuser, the man who ruined me, my baby-brother’s killer, is still the thirty-year-old guy I once fell for. His eyes flicker as mine turn off.

“Kill me,” I whisper. I mean it. I’ve nothing to live for anymore without Nate and Preston.

He kisses my lips and I let him, because it doesn’t matter anymore.

“No, Diabla. That wouldn’t be fair. Know what is fair? Russian Roulette. A game of chance and dare. Now, there’s only a single round in my revolver. Then again,” he says and brushes the barrel softly across my cheek, whispering into the shell of my ear, “It’s my lucky bullet in there. Life or death? Decisions, decisions. Where do you want me to aim the gun?”

“Temple,” I swallow. I want it to be quick.

“Not very original, but whatever tickles your fancy.”

I feel the gun sliding against my sweaty temple effortlessly, plowing into my flesh like a nasty migraine, and squeeze my eyes shut.

The sound of the spinning cylinder dances in my ear, so terribly close, and I hold my breath, the air trapped in my lungs. I want to die. I need to rest. I need my peace. Maybe it won’t be in the form of Nate, but at least it’d be quiet. At least I’d be safe.

The cylinder stops spinning and everything is illuminated by the silence.

Click.

Am I alive?

I don’t know.

I feel my body quivering frantically, sweat and my own urine making me glide across the floor. But I also feel pain. I need to do something. Try and lift my hand or blink. Why is it so hard to move? My brain commands me to do something, but my body doesn’t comply.

My brain. It still works. The realization sends shivers down my arms.

I’m alive. I’m going to be okay. If Nate makes it out of this room with me. If not, the bullet might have been the best thing that could’ve happened to me.

“Camden,” I plead. He knows what I’m asking for. Uttering it aloud is unnecessary.

“This guy doesn’t deserve you.” Camden throws himself back on the recliner and pats his pants for his pack of smokes. Lighting up one, he sends a rancid cloud to the ceiling. “Besides, he’s probably dead.”

“It’s over. Everybody got what they deserved. Let’s just move on.” I prompt. Other than you. You get to walk away unaffected. I killed his dad, but Camden only ever cared about the money and the power. The thought of letting him walk away from this makes sour bile tickle my throat, but I care more about Nate.

“I want you out of my life and off this island, Prescott. And I’m willing to pay. One hundred grand. In cash. If you walk out of here and promise not to retaliate. See this as my farewell gift to you. . .and as my apology about Preston.”

He’s going to let us go. He really does love me in his own, screwed-up way.

My voice shakes. “I promise.”

“So now,” he says, while his hand snakes to my jaw, his finger tucked under my chin, angling me to face him. “All I need is a souvenir.”

“Anything.” I feel his other fist gripping me from the base of my hair and dragging me to his crotch. For a second, I think I know what he means and am tempted to bite off his dick. It was bad enough to go through this when my heart didn’t belong to anyone but myself. But with Nate lying here, I’d never be able to do it.

“Something of yours,” he continues, twisting my head to face him. I collapse backward and reposition so that I’m sitting with my body facing his. He likes that. His smile suggests victory.

“What?” I keep peeking behind him, trying to catch glances of Nate.

“An arm? An ear?” he wonders aloud. “A finger.” He grabs my palm and strokes it, his scowl melts into a grin. “You always had beautiful fingers. Thin, delicate. . .and mine.”

White dots fill my vision. He wants one of my fingers? How the hell would he. . .I know exactly how. I get it now. Camden wants to punish me. Not for what I did to his father and Sebastian. He wants to see me tortured for giving my heart to someone else.

“This is punishment for Nate, isn’t it?” I grit out.

He nods once. “Smart girl.”

“You asked for someone else’s hand,” I argue. “The wedding might be postponed, but you’re still going to take her as your wife.”

“Marriage of convenience,” he says simply and pats my cheek, like I’m a loveable puppy. “She’s a bloody Lady. And a rich one, at that. But my heart will always belong to you.”

Yeah, but your dick was everyone else’s. But I don’t care anymore. I just want to crawl to Nate and mourn him quietly. Screw my fingers.

“Take a finger, Camden. Just be quick.”

He gets up from his chair. “I was never one to stall when it comes to violence.”

The minute he strides out of the room, I slither toward Nate’s prone figure. There’s so much blood around him, his white shirt is soaked. I’m crying and grabbing on to his cold cheeks, begging him to say something, but he’s limp. There’s a faint pulse in his neck. I need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. I don’t have my phone on me; Camden tossed it out of his car when he took me, and if I yell from the window for help, my ex-boyfriend might backtrack on his offer.