Zeden.
I knew exactly what I was doing. Every single second of it.
I’d locked away whatever tiny part of me might have felt regret, guilt, anything human.
I told myself it was right.
Necessary.
She’d pushed too far this time.
She’d spoken to Enzo Rossi—of all f*****g people.
That bastard had been hunting for any crack in my armor since Marissa’s death. His sister. My f*****g dead wife.
He’d already tried to blind me once. Now he was sniffing around what was mine. Amber. Under my roof.
Under my hands.
And she’d stood there talking to him like it was nothing.
Fuck that.
I watched her curl against the kitchen counter, sobbing, body shaking so hard. It should have satisfied me.
Seeing her like this—broken, small, mine to ruin—should have felt good. Instead it clawed at so
