The toll had taken its final debt. In return for Q’s fortune, I’d been taxed too high. I’d been turned into a destitute widow.

He’s dead.

“Tess, it’s—” Franco gathered me in his arms, tugging me into his muscular bulk. I wanted to attack him. I couldn’t control the rapidly heating, freezing, churning, storm gathering inside.

I was sad. Then angry. Then weak. Then furious.

Shoving Franco away, I snarled, “Don’t touch me.”

The streetlights clicked off, giving way to the watery pink light of a new day. A new day without Q. A lifetime without Q.

Franco pulled something from his pocket. He smoothed the paper, holding it out. “He made me promise to give you this if…”

My body stiffened.

“If what? He thought he’d die? He planned for his death?”

Why did he make you sign the will?Everything—it’s all yours. He’d bequeathed everything to me. And he’d done it so fast…almost as if he operated against time.

I stole the letter. Tearing it open, I swallowed bubbles of rageful tears.

Tess,

If you’re reading this, then I guess…well, I don’t need to put it into words. You know what’s happened. Please don’t hate me. I didn’t leave you willingly. I know I have no right to ask this of you—but you can’t undo my hard work. Promise me you’ll keep living, esclave. Promise me you’ll stay alive. Franco knows what to do. Frederick will walk you through the future plans when you’re ready.

There really isn’t much else to say. I love you so f**king much. Never forget that. Never forget the connection we shared, or the knowledge I’m waiting for you. Somewhere.

Je suis à toi—

I scrunched the letter up, throwing it on the floor in a fit of temper. There was more. More promises. More requests. More declarations of undying devotions.

But I couldn’t read anymore. Lies. All of it.

Q had left me. He had no rights to me anymore. He had no right to make me promise not to enter my tower. He had no f**king right to ask me to continue living without him. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I can’t.

It’s not over.

My eyes narrowed, staring dry and tearless at the passing view. Q was dead. I’d paid my unpayable debt and now I wanted interest. I wanted what they’d stolen from me. I wanted a life for a life.

My anger filled the car interior with swirling silver rage. “I want to make them pay. I want to give them everything they deserve.”

I’m going to show them how it feels to die slowly. How it feels to be soulless.

Franco took a while to reply, picking up Q’s letter and placing it on the seat beside us. The presence of Q’s penmanship and final thoughts took up space—filling the vehicle with his merciless love. He’d taken everything from me. My heart. My mind. My soul.

I would never forgive him for that.

“We’ll make them pay,” he muttered. “You have my word.”

My mind stained red. All the fight inside to remain good and pure disappeared. I threw myself headfirst into blackness. I accepted my life had changed forever. I had no intention of staying alive without him.

I would follow Q. It was the only option. Die or live an eternity locked in a tower unfeeling. I couldn’t survive this unsurmountable grief. I couldn’t let it consume me because if I did I would be washed away forever.

I had work to do before I died.

I had vengeance to deliver.

Violence. Blood. Screams. I wanted it all. I would make Q proud. I would avenge him.

You stole him from me.

You stole any chance of a happy life.

I was beyond angry. I was catatonic with rage. Tears had no place in the black void I existed in. Only greed—greed for killing. I would steal more than their lives in return.

I would steal their murderous souls.

Our convoy of killers gathered ranks outside the high hedges ringing the hellhole where my maître had died.

It didn’t matter the sun sparkled, turning the world into a better place. All I saw was darkness. All I lived was darkness. All I wanted was death.

He’s gone. But I’m going to join him.

Franco shattered my single-mindedness, dragging me back to an existence I no longer wanted to live.

Grabbing my hand, he forcibly curled my fingers around a gun. Squeezing me hard, his face shone with ruthlessness and pain. His injuries drained him, but he survived on bloodlust—same as me.

“Promise me, whatever happens in there. You come out alive. Don’t be reckless. He wouldn’t want that.”

I promise to be reckless. I promise to ignore everything Q wants because he left me.

Q was gone. There would be no wedding. There would be no happiness.

Why would I agree to survive in a Q-less world?

I was done fighting. I was ready to join my master in a place that wouldn’t tear us apart. I was done living in fear and terror—expecting the worst. I was done living.

But first—I would paint the sprawling villa in blood.

“I promise.” The obvious lie hung like a filthy cloud. Franco scowled.

I hefted the weight of the weapon, counting the victims I wished I’d killed. Q had stolen that right, too. He’d killed on my behalf. Now it was my turn.

Leather Jacket.

White Man.

Jagged Scar.

All of them dead at his hand. Lynx was mine. Lynx was dead already and I rejoiced knowing I’d taken his soul. I no longer had any aversion to killing. This was right. They deserved to die. And I would gladly buy a ticket to hell in order to grant closure to my pain.

He’s gone.

But soon, I would join him.

Franco sighed. “Let Blair and his team go in first. I’ve assigned Vincent to go in with you, seeing as I’ll be hobbling.” Pinching my chin, forcing my vacant eyes to meet his, he added, “I’ll protect your life with my own—just like I did him. But you have to stay alive in order for me to do that. He wouldn’t want you to—”

My stomach churned. “Don’t tell me what he wanted, Franco. He’s lost that right because he’s dead.”

Franco blanched. “Tess—you can’t let this—”

“Can’t let it what? Kill me? Ruin me? You expect me to roll into a ball and cry my heart out? I’m past being told what I can and can’t do. Stay out of my way, Franco. Let me find peace my way. Otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what I’ll do.” Clutching my gun, I snapped, “Leave me the hell alone!”

His face darkened but understanding crossed his features. “I know the rage you’re feeling. I know it’s swallowing you whole. But, Tess—don’t run in the opposite direction of who you are.”

I growled low and long. “Shut up. Just shut up!”

You know Q wouldn’t want this.

I shut myself up. I didn’t want any thoughts or doubts. I wanted to stay in the clean clarity of vengeance.

Franco patted my shoulder. “I get it. I do. And I won’t say anymore. But if you do this, you will never run from fear again.”

I stroked my gun, counting the seconds till I could fire it. “If I do this, I become fear.” I locked eyes with him. “I’ll no longer be afraid. They’ll be afraid of me.” I’d never be a victim again because I would no longer have anything precious to tear from me. I was empty. I would stay empty until I died.

In a way that gave me power. Unlimited power I intended to wield on them. They’d turned me into a monster. They’d turned me into Q.

“I agree.” Placing a hand on mine, he murmured, “Just don’t forget you’re human, too.”

I ignored the hidden messages. I didn’t pay attention to the hint that I shouldn’t throw myself completely into my murderous rage. I didn’t care if I lost myself. There was no one waiting for me to return this time.

A man in black military wear broke away from the milling shadows of Q’s entourage. Coming toward us, he moved with stealthy confidence. His hands were free but two guns rested on his hips; multiple knives hung across his chest in a scabbard. Pulling the black beanie further over his blond hair, he said, “Ready when you are, sir.”

Another man, taller with a rifle slung over his shoulder, appeared with a stick. Passing it to Franco, he grinned wryly. “Never provided a walking cane to go into a rampage but I think you need some help getting about.”

I wanted to throw up. Jokes! They were making jokes?

How can they? Tears sprang up my spine, clawing their way painfully through my coldheartedness. I didn’t want them. I didn’t want caustic healing in the form of tears. Empty. Stay empty.

Franco bared his teeth. “Get that piece of shit away from me. I’m doped up to my eyeballs with painkillers. I can run while I don’t feel it.”

The man tossed the stick to the verge. “Your funeral.”

The image of Franco dead cleaved my wounded heart. No, I wouldn’t let anyone else die. I was done losing people I cared for.

“You’re not coming,” I whispered. A whisper was the only decibel I dared converse at. Everything inside boiled like a pressure cooker, building and building, steaming and steaming until my anger frothed and overflowed. The next time I spoke loudly, I would explode.

And I would murder the man who’d killed Q. I would be cataclysmic.

Franco shook his head. “I’m coming. The moment we find Mercer, I’ll crash, but until we have him, I’m not stopping.” Pointing at the two men, he ordered, “Blair, you’re to go in first with five men. Do the preliminary sweep, clear any threats. Peter, you’re in charge of Beta squad, head in two minutes after Alpha. Round up any slaves, staff, non-immediate threats to be sorted later.” His eyes fell on me. “I’ll bring up the rear with Vincent and Tess.”

“Roger.” The two men, one black-haired, and one blond, nudged knuckles before fading back to their teams to relay the orders.

He’s trying to protect me.

Too bad. I wanted to be on the frontline. I wanted risk and danger. I wanted something to hurl this rage onto.

My heart fizzled with anger. “I’m not going in last.”

Franco frowned. “You are. You’ll still have your revenge, Tess. But this is the safest way. You’re the owner of everything Q built. Don’t ruin his legacy by killing yourself.”

The way he ruined me by dying?

I gritted my teeth, cuddling my gun as if it was my only lifeline. “You can’t stop the inevitable,” I mumbled so only the wind heard me.

Franco froze. “What did you just say?”

The inevitable will happen—I’m going to find him—where he’s waiting for me.

“Nothing.”

The first team, all dressed in identical black gear, armed with every arsenal available, darted out behind the hedges, heading toward the large driveway.

No! Wait.

I wouldn’t hang back like a helpless woman. I deserved to mow down the killers of my lover. It was my right.

Out of everything Q had done to smash my tower—it was his death that finally released me from the rubble. The bricks, always teasing with erecting, had magically disappeared. My mind was a wasteland—completely grey and barren. I was exposed to every emotion and I only felt one.

“Esclave, don’t do this. Remember everything I did.”

Q’s beautiful face consumed me—his strength, his smile.

But then he morphed and changed.

His vibrant eyes covered with a filmy white.

His tattoo hung off him in tatters.

Oxygen turned to reeking dust. My hollow heart rapidly filled with grief. It oozed through me, stealing my anger every second I stood doing nothing.

Not yet.

I refused to break down.

Not yet.

The last man disappeared; I couldn’t stand still any longer. I took a step toward the driveway.

Franco imprisoned my elbow. “No. You’re going in with me. Three, four minutes, Tess. Patience.”

Three or four minutes. That was an eternity. Time had stolen Q from me. Only minutes from our arrival, and the heartless bitch decided it was too many minutes too long. In another few minutes I might be useless with sorrow.

I obeyed time no longer.

My legs itched. My lungs gulped air. I prepared for battle.

Run.

Run. Run!

I took off.

“Tess, no!” Franco tried to grab me, but his broken body was no match for my quick paced rage.

I careened around the hedge, flying toward the open door. The soft puffs of silenced guns broke the hushed virginity of the morning.

The massive granite pillars glittered in the sunlight. Pansies and merry flowers bordered the doorstep, looking innocent, harbouring evil inside. The disguise was good. But I knew the truth.

They would die. All of them.

My hands didn’t shake. My heart didn’t stutter. I leapt over the threshold, trading sun for shadows.

“Tess!” Franco yelled.

I didn’t stop. This was the beginning of my anarchy.

The décor was all red and black and morbid. Q’s team crawled through rooms, dispatching traitors with a scope and trigger. Their black attire made them look like spiders, casting a web of retaliation, taking over their prey.

“Clear!” someone yelled, followed by a gunshot to the right. I didn’t know where to look. Men’s shouts sounded—then cut short. Running footsteps stomped—then thudded to a halt.

All around me men died—dispatched with precise coordination.

They stole my right! They took away my destiny—ending the men’s existence before I could.

The crackle of someone’s walkie-talkie slammed me into motion. They may have killed a household of bastards, but they hadn’t found Q. No alarm sounded—no raised voices.