With Visions of Red: Book 3 (The Broken Bonds 3)

“This is careless,” he accuses. “So unlike you. Where will you dispose of me?”

“I’ve been thinking about that for a while.” I walk a circle around him. “But it wasn’t until you abducted Avery that the answer presented itself. You didn’t think ahead on that one.” I tsk. “A medical examiner? What if she escaped? Up until the end, you had it all worked out. Simon was supposed to kill Avery and go down for all the murders. All the evidence pointed to him, on his own boat. But what if Avery overpowered him?”

“Impossible. I broke that bitch.”

“But you didn’t count on us getting to her first.” I look down at him. “And here’s the kicker: what if once Avery was free, she became the lead M.E. processing your death?”

His eyes widen, the horror of his oversight gripping him as quickly as the toxin.

“For a woman ripe with vengeance—justified vengeance—a shellfish toxin is easily enough explained. I doubt anyone will question Avery’s COD report. Especially when your stomach contents will match the menu of the very bar where your credit card was last used.”

He clutches his throat, trying to talk. I fill in the gaps for him.

“Too bad you’ll be dead and unable to feel Avery slicing open your stomach…filling your bowels with evidence. But just try to picture the smile on her face. Just do it. I’m sure you can recall what she looked like before you stole it from her.”

Sometimes, we can be mistaken. I discovered that, once Avery began her recovery, we could talk openly about our newfound connection. There may come a day when her healing journey leads her to a place of remorse for the man who tortured her—but until then, she’s bound to secrecy within our world.

With a shaky hand, he beckons me near. One last indulgence, I suppose. I drop down beside him and draw close. “What did you say to him?” he asks, his voice a low rattle. “What did you say to Connelly…there at the end?”

I lean in closer to his ear. “I’m the master.”

Yes, I’m the master now. My mentor revealed the killer within—she may have forever lain dormant if not for him. But that was the trigger…my trigger. For years, the behaviorist in me tried to dissect it. One in eight abused become the abuser. That’s a fact.

I’m the one.

I’m the monster.

Colton once said that I had something taken away from me—but that’s not entirely true. My abductor took, but he also gave me the cruel truth of my nature. He unleashed it. He was the catalyst.

Only now, I’m strong enough to resist submitting to it.

A faint smile brushes Price’s mouth. Then just as quickly, his eyes no longer see.

I slip on a glove and lift the cuff of his suit. It’s a bit overzealous of Price, a bit obvious in his choice. The selection of a sword meant to impress me, but really, it’s just a sad extension of his impotent phallus.

Still, the miniature flamberg will look good on my trophy shelf.

* * *

At the foot of my bed, I watch the rise and fall of Colton’s chest. The moonlight peeks through the slats in the blinds, casting shadows in the room. The alternating light and dark falls across his body, accentuating the dips and arches of his exquisite form.

I push the shoulders of my dress down my arms and step out of my dress. Reaching behind my neck, I undo the clasp of the necklace and then place it and the USB drive in the drawer of my nightstand. Slipping between the cool sheets, I press up against the curve of his back. His body heat warms me instantly, and the harsh chill covering my skin subsides.

I feel the shift in his breathing against my breasts. He stirs, shifting the covers over us as he turns to face me. His warm breath caresses the top of my head, and I tuck myself in the perfectly-designed-for-me nook between his chest and the bed.

“You should’ve told me,” he says, the deep baritone of his voice a low boom in the too-quiet room.

“You would’ve tried to make me stay,” I reply.

“Fuck right.”

“Or you would’ve tried to kill him yourself.”

“Absolutely.”

I tilt my head back, meeting his dark gaze. “Emotion can’t play a part, Colton. That leaves behind a traceable, messy trail.”

His hand spreads against my back, the pads of his coarse fingers massaging the muscles along my spine. “Then why take the chance at all.”