Revenge is an euphoric thing. Trust me on this. Nothing compares to the release you get when you ruin someone’s life. When they’ve stolen important things. Things that didn’t belong to them. Things I revel in making them pay for.
What? Have I offended you? I’m not here to appeal to your delicate senses. I have no intention of placating your wishes or living within your personal belief system nor do I care if you hate me. And you will hate me. Because I’m a brutal, savage, cold-blooded murderer and I’m here for my revenge.
I’m Ethan Moonsong...And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most sacrificing man to the most feared and why I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
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I decided that night I no longer cared to get myself
under control. I decided I wanted a drink instead.
“Vi, one more?”
“Sure,
darlin’.”
I nodded when she set down the glass and walked toward
another customer.
“I’m
surprised you’re in here again,” I heard over my shoulder, and I tensed.
“What
are you doing here?” I asked Finley.
“Lookin’ for your dumb ass.”
“Why?”
I asked as she sat down beside me.
“Oh, I
don’t know, maybe because I’m an idiot? Maybe because I’m bored?” She sighed.
“I don’t know.”
The
bell above the door rang out and we both turned to see Spencer Blackwell and
Cricket Hunt walk in holding hands as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
I
narrowed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. “What the fuck are they
doing here?” I asked no one.
My eyes
locked in on them as they moved to the opposite side of the large room. They
had no idea I was there. They sat together, totally unaware that their mere
existence in that moment bruised me more brutally than I’d felt in a long time.
I studied Caroline, the palm of my hand absently rubbing at the knot in the
center of my chest. My Caroline. She had no idea just how much she’d worn me
out since we’d broken up, worn my body and my soul. I felt too heavy to carry
around since she’d gone from me. Far too heavy. She’d been unintentionally
cruel, but cruel nonetheless. So I swallowed back the lump in my throat, a lump
she’d put there with our childhood memories, our laughs, our love. The ache.
The awful ache she caused me.
I continued to watch her. She was laughing, so happy, and
very much in the moment with him. And that’s when I saw it. Saw what Finley and
everyone else saw. She had never looked at me the way she was looking at him,
and I was suddenly sick with jealousy and a terrible, terrible hatred. His hand
wrapped around the back of her neck and I snapped. My hands trembled on the
surface of my glass and I breathed from my nose in seething anger.
Finley whipped her head my direction, her eyes wide.
“Let’s go,” she pleaded.
“Get out of here,” I ordered her.
“No,” she whispered, placing her hand on my own.
I peered into her eyes. “Just. Go.”
I stood up and threaded my way through the bodies. There was
nothing planned, no finite idea, but I knew I wanted to get to my truck, the
passenger side, the glove box. I shoved through the bar door and into the
summer night, my blood pumping through my veins. My truck was parked in the
space closest to the street, and each footstep it took to get me there felt
like an eternity. I clomped through the gravel lot and threw open the passenger
door. I’d forgotten that the glove box had been locked. My hand found my pocket
to dig out my keys but they were stuck at odd angles, making it difficult or
maybe it was that I was too drunk to remove them with any kind of finesse. This
made me pause, but my body couldn’t catch up with the thought and I pitched
forward, my hand clumsily finding the edge of the roof of the cab. I swayed and
the memory of his hand on her neck renewed my fury.
“I told you you’d feel my wrath, Spencer Blackwell,” I
spoke to no one. “And I never break a promise.”
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And don’t miss the first two books in the Seven Deadly series!
VAIN
GREED
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Fisher is the author of The Seven Deadly Series, The
Sleepless Series, and The Leaving Series, and was a semi-finalist in Amazon’s
Breakthrough Novel Award.
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